


Lean On Me

by Monkeygirl77



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amara is known as Aunt, Angel Family, But he can be grumpy sometimes, Castiel can suck it, Choir Master Lucifer, Chuck can suck it, For the most part, Found Family, Gabriel's a douche though, Gabriel's kind of a douche, God is known as Father, Grigori, He's not winning that battle, He's rarely seen in this, He's taken up gardening, He's the reason Raphael is usually on the grumpy side, Healer Raphael, Healers, Heaven's has a complex hierarchy structure, I allow it, I dont know who he is, I like Amara, Isa is Raphael's son, Isa thinks he has nine lives, Lucifer just kind of floats in the background, Messengers, Michael is not a douche, Nephilim, Parental Archangels, Raphael has been trying to teach him that he does not, Raphael is not a douche, Retired Michael, Sorry Not Sorry, Thaddeus is not a bad guy, Though she rarely makes appearances, Tickles, Virtues, and why he has worry lines on his forehead, chosen family, he's a complex individual with a complex back story, i don't like him, lots of tickles, not really - Freeform, powers, tickle monsters everywhere, warriors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 288
Words: 505,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygirl77/pseuds/Monkeygirl77
Summary: They're a complex bunch of individuals, the Angels, related in title only, they build their own little families within their own massive family. There's a complex backstory for everyone, enemies turn out to be victims, and vise versa, their society is complex in structure, but they make it work. (Or in other words, just a bunch of angel family fluff because we need more of it)
Comments: 412
Kudos: 33





	1. Mending The Mind (Nisroc & Thaddeus)

Aeshma smiled at him in greeting as she opened the grand door for him, allowing him entrance into his Prison, he returned the smile, stepping into the dim entry way, greeting Temeluch as the door was closed behind him. Temeluch greeted him in kind, softly, a whisper under the loud complaints coming from down the hall, through the opened door at the end of the hall. He left him standing at his position as he stepped down the hall for the cell of the prisoner he'd come to see.

He'd had some suspicions when it came to this particular prisoner, he'd raised them himself, he had most certainly not raised them to be what they had turned into, that was without doubt.

The angel in the cell was curled up on the stone cot, the thin mattress, curled in the thin blanket they were given, staring at the stone wall across from him. Shoulder length hair a mess, it needed brushed something bad, there were knots the size of quarters littered throughout, the prisoner was dirty, needing bathed something fierce, which was an odd occurrence, the prisoners were taken to the washroom once every other day to clean up. The simple white tunic hung on his thin frame, he'd lost weight since he'd been put in this cell for isolation, and he hummed, he'd get to the bottom of this matter, prove his wonderings to be wrong and continue on his way.

Maybe.

He clears his throat to get the other angels attention, and his head turns quickly, eyes shooting from the wall to the bars of his cell. His eyes widen I surprise, jumping up from his cot, nearly tripping over the blanket wrapping around his ankles. He rushes the bars, reaching through, and the other takes a step back out of his reach. "Nis! Nis, are you still mad at me?"

"Mad at you?"

"I've been asking to see you, but you never come, I thought you were mad at me still, I remember you being really mad."

Nisroc examines the angel before him closely, narrowing his eyes slightly, stepping forward again for the younger angel's benefit, he curls his fingers into his tunic and clutches on tightly. "Why would I be mad at you, Thaddeus?"

The old Prison Warden stares at him with wide eyes, shaking his head softly. "I…I don't know."

"You don't know?" He frowns lightly when the younger angel shakes his head. "What do you remember, Thad?"

Thaddeus stares off slightly, getting lost in thought, and shakes his head. "Naomi…. She wanted to see me…And then there was a bright light and it hurt…And then you were mad at me….You were really mad at me….and then it hurt again….." He cringes slightly, looking back up to the older angel, to the one whom had raised him, who had never steered him wrong. "Nis, Nis what's going on? Why am I here? I don't want to be here, it's dark and scary and there's no one to talk to, please get me out." He tugs desperately on the front of his tunic. "Please get me out Nis. I don't like it here."

He reaches through the bars of the cell, caressing the younger angel's cheek lightly. "Thad, I need you to think really hard for me," the younger angel nods. "What's the last thing you do remember?"

"Umm…" Thaddeus makes a face, thinking hard, his eyes clouding over slightly. "We were on the verge of war. The Morningstar had just betrayed us. Father was gone. And then….Then Naomi…And then….Then everything gets really fuzzy…Everything's really fuzzy….I can't remember….I can't remember _a lot_." He reaches up with his other hand, his fingers curling around the new Warden's wrist tightly, his tone taking on a desperate edge. "Please, Nis, please get me out. I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry, I'm really _really_ sorry. I swear I won't do it again, Nis, I swear on my name, I won't! Please don't make me stay here anymore! I don't like it in here! It's scary! Please don't make me stay!"

"Thad, the last thing you remember is The Fall?"

The younger angel nods frantically, he doesn't understand why he's being asked these questions, he recalls seeing the Morningstar again, later, but not much after that, he can't recall a lot of things, everything's too fuzzy. All he does know is that he doesn't like it here, Nis was mad at him, and no one will talk to him. He watches closely as his old guardian reaches for the keys he has attacked to his belt, inhaling deeply when he selects one, and places it in the keyhole of his cell, undoing the lock, and opens the door up. He rushes forward, before the Power Captain can do anything, and collides into him, curling around him tightly, hanging on desperately.

"I'm sorry, Nis, for whatever I did! Please take me with you! Please don't leave me here! I don't want to be here anymore!"

"It's okay," warm arms curl around him tightly, pressing him close, a large warm hand curls around the back of is greasy head. "We're going to go see the Healer, alright?"

"Why?" He presses closer. "Is someone hurt?"

"That's what we're going to find out."

…

"Oh, yes, his mind is a mess." The Healer has his fingers pressed to the old Warden's head, the younger angel staring up at the Archangel in wonder, clutching to his old guardian's hand. "She truly did a number. It doesn't come as a surprise to me that he doesn't remember much of anything." He pulls his hands away, wiping them on his tunic lightly, turning for a jar on the cart next to them, pulling out a sweet, he passes it to the younger angel. Thaddeus is completely captivated by it, licking it experimentally, and smiling at the taste, his eyes brightening in delight, he plops the sweet into his mouth happily, sucking on it softly.

The Archangel smiles down at him, watching his actions, the way he reacted to a simple sweet. "I can fix his mind, to a certain degree, but it will take time. Too much all at once can be overwhelming and cause more damage than can be mended." He watches as the younger angel curls the Powers hand into his chest softly, suckling at his sweet contentedly, clearly happy to be in the presence of another being. "From his state, I'd say he's regressed a number, he hasn't bathed in some time, I'm honestly not quite sure he remembers how. I'm not exactly sure what he _does_ remember."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, for the time being, until we can get everything patched up as much as we can, it would be best to think of him as being a fledgling again. He's going to need your help doing most tasks. Simply because his mind is so jumbled at the moment, he may not remember how to do them." He frowns lightly, eyeing the scruffy angel on the bed. "Cleaning up is most certainly one of those things, it would appear."

Nisroc nods, rubbing his thumb over the back of the hand clutching at his fingers, he would agree on that front. The young angel could most certainly do with a good scrubbing. "When can we begin?"

"I'd say it would be alright to begin tomorrow morning." Raphael rubs at his chin lightly, watching the young angel sit there between them as content as can be with his sweet. "It's still early in the day today, it'll give him time to settle down from being released, being back with someone he clearly trusts might be a bit overwhelming at first, but should calm down with time."

"You say he doesn't remember much, but," Nisroc rubs at his beard lightly with his free hand, guilt shining in his eyes as he peers down at the wounded young angel. "Do you think he'd remember what…That day….What I did….?"

The Healer sighs sadly. "There's no telling what he'll come to remember, so I can't say for sure, I know what transpired between you two, don't let it eat at you." He reaches out to squeeze the Power's shoulder. "If he remembers, then he remembers, and if he doesn't, then he doesn't. You just have to work around that possibility if it comes to pass." He gestures down to the younger angel between them. "He clearly doesn't remember the finer details of what happened, you said he remembered you being mad at him, but never made any inkling of knowing the finer details, even as to what you were mad at him for." He gestures then to the way he clutches at the older angel's hand. "He clearly still trusts you as well, or he wouldn't be hanging on to you like he is, he remembers you being angry with him, but not what it was for, nor what transpired between you two, he stills sees you as someone he can rely on to help him."

As if to prove his point, the younger angel tugs at the Captain's hand, showing him his sweet when he looks down at the call for his attention. Nisroc smiles down at him, brushing his bangs back with the fingers of his free hand, and nods. "I see that, you got a sweet because you were very brave."

Raphael smiles at them in fond amusement. "Like I said, I would treat him with the same gentleness you would treat a fledgling. Get him cleaned up and into something better to wear. Some food into his belly. I'd say it wouldn't steer you wrong to get him a bit of a nap. But," he holds up a finger. "Like a fledgling, he can't be alone, especially with his mind in the state it is and all that time in isolation. He may latch on to you, don't push him away, it'll cause more harm, take him with you where ever it is you go." He smiles down at the young Warden when he turns to look up at him, reaching out to pat his cheek lightly. "I'll talk to my brother about this. You just take care of this little guy, here."

Thaddeus smiles up at him, finishing his treat. "Thank you, for the sweet."

The Archangel smiles down at him, patting his cheek again. "You are most welcome."

…

Nisroc thought over the Healer's words as he walked Thaddeus across the Training Field, he could feel his brothers eyes on him, and he shook his head lightly, he knew they'd see it even where they stood around the Training Field, he'd tell them later, preferably when the younger angel was fast asleep, there was no secrets between them.

Thaddeus looked around in awe, waving to the other Powers when he saw them, he remembered them, they played with him when he was little, he doesn't remember much about it, but he remembers they had always been nice to him. They wave back, hesitantly, as though they were unsure as to what was going on. He frowns slightly, looking up to the older angel at his side. "Are the others mad at me, Nis?"

The Captain smiles down at him, rubbing his back soothingly. "No, they're not mad, Thad."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay." He goes back to looking around again, this place seems so familiar, he knows, Nis lives here, and he lived with Nis. "This place is so big, Nis."

"Isn't it?" He chuckles softly. "We're big angels."

"I'm small."

Nisroc chuckles again, nodding in amusement. "Yes, you most certainly are small."

He brushes his hand against the smooth stone as they walk up the stairs to the Pavilion above. He looks around with wide eyes. "I remember this place!"

"You do?"

"I lived here!"

The Power smiles at him again. "Yes, you did. And you'll live here, with me, for a long while, okay?"

"Okay, Nis." The young Warden nods slightly. "I like living with you."

"I'm glad to hear it." They stop at his room first, and he fishes a clean tunic out from his wardrobe for himself and the young angel he's caring for, a new set of trousers for himself, a towel off the shelf, and a scrub brush out of the drawer. Guiding the younger angel around, Nisroc walks him down the hall towards the back, where the washroom lies in wait. "Let's go get a bath."

He nods. "I like baths."

Thaddeus gasps as they step into the washroom, lit from the large luminescent crystals above them, walking with the older angel to a large stone table jetting out from the wall, where he sets down the things, he'd brought with him. Next to the table is a shelf carved into the wall, covered in different types of soaps, different scents.

Nisroc turns to him, gripping the bottom of his thin tunic. "Arms up." He raises his arms, closing his eyes as the Power pulls his tunic up over his head, he shivers when fingers brush over the scars over his shoulders, down his back, and he turns to watch them. "Where'd those come from?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Okay, Nis."

He helps him out of his trousers, brings the scrub brush and a bar of soap, and guides him to sit in the shallows of the washing pool, situating himself between the Captain's legs, he sits still as he rubs the soap over the bristles of the scrub brush, lathering them up, and begins scrubbing his back lightly, he raises his arms up as he circles the scrub brush down his arms, and then up under, first with the left, then with the right, his beard brushes over the side of his neck as he leans forward, scrubbing softly at his chest and belly. "Here, Thad," he hands him the scrub brush. "Did you see how I was doing it?" The younger angel nods lightly. "I want you to do that down your legs okay, and your privates, can you do that for me?"

Thaddeus nods. "I can do that, Nis."

"Good boy." He waits patiently for the young Warden to do as he's asked of him, holding his hand out to take the brush back from him when he passes it over his shoulder to him. He rubs his shoulder lightly. "Lay on back, Thaddy." The young angel seems unsure, but does as he's told, laying back against his legs, he smiles up at the Power as he lays his head in his lap. "Hi, Nis." Nisroc smiles down at him. "Hi, Thaddy." He lathers the soap up in his hands, and gently massages it into his hair, scrubbing lightly at his scalp, washing away the grease and the grime. "Close your eyes." He scrunches his eyes closed, feeling large soapy fingers rub over his face softly, before waters poured over him, and the fingers rub it away. "Okay, it's safe to open again." He opens his eyes and stares up at the large Power, watching as he rinses the suds from his curls. "Okay, we're all done, does that feel better?"

"Yes," the younger angel nods, sitting up and turning. "I like being clean."

"Good, because you're clean now." He pats his thighs gently. "Lets stand up." He rises to his feet and helps the younger angel up with him. They walk together, holding hands, to the shore, and he takes the first towel, one of three, and rubs it over the young angel's dripping curls, drying them as much as he can, then takes the second rubbing down his body; arms and legs, his chest and stomach, over his back. He folds the first tunic up slightly, "arms up."

Smiling, Thaddeus raises his arms, wrapping them around himself, in the large warm tunic, when it's pulled down over him. "And, step into these." He steps into the undergarments, watching as the Power pulls them up, rubbing his hands over the soft tunic. "This tunic smells like you!"

He chuckles, ruffling his curls, as he changes out of his wet clothes, dries off, and changes into his dry clothes. "You think so?"

"Mhmm." He nods happily, pressing the sleeves, too long for him, over his nose. "Yes!" He rubs his belly softly. "Nis, I'm hungry." He wants food but doesn't remember where to get it from. They fed him when he was in the Prison. He didn't have to get his own food.

"Let's go get something to eat then." Nisroc holds his hand out to him, and he happily takes hold of it, letting him walk him from the washroom, nice and clean, down the hall to the kitchen area of the Pavilion. "Are you very hungry or just a little hungry?"

"Just a little bit."

"Okay," he sits him down at the table, making sure he's settled, and leaves him there, making sure to stay where he can be seen, he reaches for an apple, a bowl, and the jar of peanut butter. He cuts up the apple into slices, scoops out a spoon full of peanut butter, and returns to his side, sitting across from him, he sets the bowl of apples and peanut butter down in front of him. "Here you go."

"I love apples and peanut butter!" He smiles at the young angel's excitement. "Thanks, Nis!" He digs into his treat, dipping an apple slice into the peanut butter and taking a big bite, it's so much better then the food they gave him in the Prison, that food was bland and tasteless, but this, this was delicious. He knows that this has always been his favorite snack and he knows that Nis knows too. Nisroc watches him eat his snack with a smile, the Healer was right, he was very much like a fledgling again.

Thaddeus finishes his snack and hums happily, rubbing at his belly softly. "That was yummy." He smiles up at the Power. "Thank you, Nis."

"You're very welcome, Thaddy." He reaches out and rubs his cheek lightly. "Let's go take a nap, alright?"

"Okay, Nis." The little angel stands from where he sits, rushing around the table to take his hand, as the Power stands himself. "I like naps, too." He took a lot of naps in the Prison. But this nap will be okay. Nis will be there when he wakes up. "Can I nap in your bed?"

"You sure can." He guides the little angel down the hall to his room, coming to stand at the edge of his bed, pulling the blankets back, he guides the little one into his bed, laying him down against the pillow, running his fingers through his damp curls. Thaddeus catches his hand, hugging it to his chest tightly. "Nis, will you nap with me?" He looks down slightly. "I don't want to be alone again."

Nisroc smiles down at him comfortingly. "Sure, Thaddy, scoot over for me."

The young angel does as he's told scooting over to the other side, watching with wide eyes as he climbs into the freed side of the bed, laying back against his pillow, he raises his arm slightly. "Come here, Thaddy." The young released prisoner scoots closer again, cuddling up under his arm, against his side, resting his head against the crook of his shoulder. "Thanks for not being mad at me anymore, Nis, and for not making me stay there. I didn't like it there. It was scary."

"Don't worry about it, Tadpole." He runs his fingers through his curls. "You're not going back there again. You're going to stay with me now, how does that sound?"

Thaddeus smiles up at him, before nuzzling back down again. "I'd like to stay with you. I remember you. You were always so nice to me."

Nisroc swallows the guilt that rises from within his chest. "Of course, you're my little tadpole."

"I love you, Nis."

He swallows that guilt again, hugging him closer, he's going to make up for how much he hurt him. Even if he doesn't remember it. "I love you too, Tadpole."


	2. Numbing The Mind (Oren & Ephraim)

Its when the warriors come back from a rather harsh mission, that it happens, that he becomes overwhelmed. It's just too much, there's too much emotion swirling around, it's becoming like a thick cloud overcoming him, surrounding him and drowning out the world around him. He retreats, his fingers curled through his hair, clutching at his head, trying to fight off the surrounding darkness from overcoming his senses, he whimpers softly and curls inwards, trying to hide away from the world around him, to get out of the line of fire, to get everything to calm down.

But it doesn't. It gets worse. It gets more potent, and he whimpers again as he squeezes his eyes closed. He just wants it to stop, he wants it all to stop, just _stop_.

He starts when something warm touches his face, peeking out slightly to see what it was, he's met with his older brother's eyes. Being the second in command for the Infirmary, there were certain privileges that Oren had that others did not, he could do more then others could when it comes to certain things, that any other healer would need to ask permission to do.

He watches the older Virtues lips move, he's speaking, but his mind is too worked up to comprehend what's being said. He knows he's saying words but he doesn't know what words are being said. Oren seems to understand, curling his fingers around his cheeks, he pulls him closer, whispering into his ear softly. "I'm going to numb your mind." That's one of the things that Oren can do without permission, even Akriel, their resident Mental Specialist, had to ask permission to use that particular skill. Ephraim nods, squinting his eyes, anything, he'd do anything to get it to stop.

The older angels grace is warm, it tingles slightly, as it overcomes him, drowning out everything but sweet welcoming numb calmness.

The younger angel sags in relief, sighing softly at the peace that's over come him, Oren rubs his thumbs under his eyes. "Come on." He nods, letting himself be pulled forward, back to the back of the Infirmary, down the hall towards the washroom. Oren kicks his boots off, and kneels to pull his free, he steps out of his boots silently, and lets his brother walk him forward into the warm water. They forget about their clothes for the time being, sitting in the water, Oren sits first, pulling him down, laying him down in the warm water, his head cushioned on his lap. The warm water soothes his tense muscles, and fingers rub small circles over his forehead, soothing away the headache that had been forming even with the numbing calm that had been forced over his mind.

Ephraim blinks up at him, his older brother smiles down at him, rubbing his thumbs over his temple.

"What about the others?"

"They can take care of them." He massages the sides of his head tenderly. "I'm here to take care of you." Ephraim sighs contentedly. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to be a burden."

"Eph, you're my baby brother," he stills his fingers for a moment, and those bright eyes turn back up to him. "You could never be a burden."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I understand." He starts rubbing again. "Next time, just tell me, so I can help."

"I will." He looks down, tilting his head slightly, to see his soaked form. "We're all wet."

"Ak's getting us a change of clothes."

Ephraim nods, closing his eyes softly, sighing out in content. His older brother always knows how to make his headaches feel better again. Oren's fingers work down to his neck, and then down to his shoulders, rubbing away the tension tenderly.

He feels like he's drifting, only half awake, going through the motions when Oren helps him to his feet, practically carrying him to the shore again, as him and Akriel help him change into dry clothing, and he lays his head on his older brother's shoulder when he sweeps him off his feet, cradling him in his arms.

"Are you sleepy now, Ephi?"

The younger angel nods languidly. "Mmhmmm."

"Is this your doing?" Akriel turns his head slightly, looking him in the eye, watching them react languidly to the different shades of light. "He's pretty out of it."

"Yea, he was having a hard time. I just calmed everything down."

"Well, he's in good hands." The Mental Specialist takes a step back. "Call if you need anything."

"We will," Oren looks down at his younger brother, his eyes half lidded, completely tranquil. "Let's go take a nap, Ephi."

He barely nods, dozing off against his shoulder, and they two older Virtues exchange an amused smile. Oren carries him from the wash room, up the stairs, and down the hall to his room. He sets the young Virtue down on his bed, pulling his blankets up and over him, smiling when he cuddles down in his pillow. He steps away for a brief moment, and a weak hand reaches out to him, fingers flexing demandingly. "Ori, come back."

"Hang on, baby brother." He closes his door and turns, returning to the bed, he climbs over his baby brothers prone form, tugging him closer as he settles down on his side. Ephraim smiles, nuzzling closer to his older brother. "Ori, will you rub my head?"

The older angel chuckles lightly, threading his fingers into his hair, rubbing at his scalp lightly. "Sure, baby brother, anything for you."


	3. A Light To Call Home (Akriel & Jaleel)

They were in and out of these places, they stayed until they couldn't legally be kept any longer in short term facilities and left, coming back again and again. They were on a first name basis with the staff, and it wasn't something to brag about, it was wrong, it was upsetting, and nothing they did changed anything. They did the same exact things, went through the same exact motions, and always ended up locked away in a bare room, an air mattress on a free standing bed with a pillow and a blanket, scrubs, and hospital meals, a prisoner without being locked in an actual prison.

It hurt that no one bothered to ask where they were going after they were discharged, no one seemed to care enough to find out why they kept coming back, no one bothered, they'd only sigh and hand them their scrubs and blanket, their room was always open, they were considered a regular at this point.

She got nothing out of these short term facilities, perhaps a bed and some meals, but nothing worthwhile. She refused to talk to them, no matter how hard they tried, refused to talk to the doctors or nurses, the other patients, refused to talk about the scars, both mental and physical, out of sight, out of mind, in her book. She didn't like sitting with the other patients, didn't like partaking in group, didn't like taking the pills they gave her. She'd hide them under her tongue until she got back to her room and would flush them down the toilet when she knew she was alone. When they found that out, she changed her methods, hiding them in her cheek, swallowing them and then spitting them up before they could dissolve, they had tried to force her to take them, once, she'd bitten them and the nurse had needed two stitches, they didn't try again, if she didn't want to help herself by taking the medicine they said she needed then it wasn't on them, there was only so much they could do to help.

She did like the meals, though. She ate her entire tray, eating the leftovers that the other patients didn't want, a meal was a meal, and she'd eat her fill while she was there. She did like sitting in the corner of the group room or the small courtyard and drawing in her small leather sketchbook, they didn't let them have pens, she liked pens, but they did let her have pencils, no metal caps on top, no erasure. That was fine with her, she didn't need an erasure, she made her mistakes into something wonderful too. There was no such thing as a mistake, only a stepping stone, something to make better.

Time and time again, nothing changed, nothing they did was helping her. No matter what sort of divine intervention they played into, nothing changed, they always ended up back in the place, in the same scrubs, under the same blanket, eating the same food, sitting in the same corner.

They hated to do it, hated to say it, but nothing they did helped. Nothing they did made any difference.

So, they gave up.

And handed their charge off to someone else.

Someone who could help her.

…

"Brother, do you have a moment?"

The Virtue looked up from the file he was reading, and smiled, nodding to the Guardian in acknowledgement, closing the file softly, and tucked it against his chest. "Of course, how can I help?"

"My charge," the Guardian looks down to her hands. "I don't know what to do anymore. Nothing changes, no matter what I do, nothing changes anything."

The Virtue frowns lightly, leaning over to set the file on his desk, gesturing for the Guardian to sit on the bed next to them, he sat in his chair, facing the distraught Guardian with concern. "Tell me what's wrong."

…

"I already told you, I'm not doing the group sessions."

"I'm not here to tell you to go to group. Though, they appear to be finger painting, and seeing as you like art, I'd say you'd quite enjoy that."

She looks up at the new voice, she's never heard his voice before, he's new here. He doesn't look like the doctors and nurses, he's not wearing a white coat or scrubs, no stethoscope around his neck, she thought he might be someone's family visiting, but then when they did, they never bothered her, they left her alone in her corner with her little book and blunt pencil and pretended she didn't exist, while she pretended they didn't exist too. He was different, he looked normal, in a pair of dark jeans, white shirt, and leather jacket, ankle high boots on his feet, blonde-silver hair pulled back in a bun, she liked his beard.

She looked passed him, to where the group session was going on, and then looked back to the man before her.

"They'll call the cops if they see you talking to me. Stranger danger, and all that jazz," she looks back to her book and her pencil begins to move again. "Someone might think you're a kidnapping pedophile or something."

He chuckles lightly, as though he was amused by that. "They can't see me." She looks up at him as though he was the _'crazy'_ one, great, she got stuck with the new patient who thought they were invisible. "Are you new here?" She eyes him carefully. "You're not wearing our scrubs, so maybe not, are you a new doctor?" He chuckles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles at her, and he steps forward, taking a spot at her side. She slides away a pace, but doesn't get up, this is her corner, after all. "Something like that, yes." She eyes him carefully, pulling her book closer, curling her arm up around the top edge. "And you think you're invisible?"

"I don't _'think'_ it, I _know_ it, I can appear to whoever I so please to, and do what I please." He huffs in amusement softly. "They can't see you either."

She pauses, her pencil stilling on the worn page, and looks back up to him, he smiles again and nods to the group just a few paces away. "See for yourself."

The teenager stares at him, setting her book down, and scrambled to her feet. Barefeet padded against the linoleum flooring as she scurried across the room to the group session at the table. They were finger painting, this mysterious stranger was right, she smacked a few patients on the shoulder lightly, nothing, she waved her hand in front of the nurse, sitting behind them, playing on her phone, nothing, she climbed up onto the table and danced around, nothing. Looking back over to the mysterious man, her eyes were wide, watching him flip quietly through her book, as though waiting for her to finish her mischief and come back. He knew she'd come back, that book was her most prized possession, she'd fought many nurses over having it.

She jumps down from the table, scurrying back to her corner, standing before the man with wide eyes and clenched fists. He spares her a glance as he flips the page of her journal. "These are very good. You pay close attention to detail."

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Make me invisible!"

He smiles slightly, holding her book out to her, and she snatches it up, curling her arms around it. "Well, there's a rather long answer to that question, but I'll spare you the fine details of it, and just say its _'magic'_."

She sits in front of him, crossing her legs under her, staring at him closely. "Who are you?"

"Again, that's a rather long answer to such a simple question, we'll stick to basics, my names Akriel." He smiles at her kindly. "You can call me Ak. And, your name's Jaleel, right?"

The teenager's eyes widen. "How do you know my name!"

Akriel leans back in his chair, crossing his right leg over his left knee, and crosses his arms lightly. "I know all about you. I know your name is Jaleel. I know about what happened with your stepfather. I know about what happened with your mother. I know about those scars on your arms. I know that you'll return here in one weeks' time when you're released. I know that your most treasured possession is that book right there. I know you don't take your medicine like you're supposed to. I know you don't talk to the doctors. I know a lot about you."

She stares at him, Jaleel doesn't know what to say to him after all that, he did know a lot about her. "Are you some kind of stalker?" She bites her lip, hugging her book closer. "Are you stalking a fifteen year old?"

"Oh, Heaven's no, I'm far from being a stalker." He smiles warmly, tapping his arm lightly. "I'm your Guardian."

"My….Guardian…?"

"Yes, your Guardian." He hums softly, shaking his right foot slightly. "Your Guardian angel."

"My…My Guardian angel?" Jaleel tilts her head slightly. "If I were you, I'd have given up by now."

Akriel hums softly. "I'll be honest with you. Your originally Guardian did. I've only been your Guardian for approximately an hour. Rebecca did her best, but she figured she needed help, and from what I've heard about you, she was right."

The teenager stares at him for a long minute, and he smiles, waiting for her to respond in her own time. "Why did you take over then?"

"Because, I thought I could help you the best."

Jaleel uncurls her legs out from under her, crossing them before her instead, and she sets her book down to sit in her lap. "How?"

Akriel hums softly, reaching up with his right hand to rub at his chin, scratching lightly through his beard. "I'm the Mental Specialist. She thought it appropriate."

"So," she frowns. "You're an angel shrink. Great. Another doctor telling me what's wrong. Well, thanks for coming, but I'm not interested. You can go back to your harp and halo and do what angel's do. But, I'm good."

"I don't know how to play the harp, I do know how to play the piano and guitar though, music's calming." He gestures to her book. "Just like drawing is. Those are great, did you learn, or natural?"

The teenager rolls her eyes, reaching for the pencil next to his foot, and reopens her book, returning to the piece she had been working on before she had been interrupted. "Natural."

"Nice," he hums softly. "Draw me."

That turns her attention back to him. "What?"

"Draw me. I want to see what I look like on paper."

She narrows her eyes slightly. "You're not trying to trick me into talking to you are you, because I won't talk to those doctors, so what makes you think I'd willingly talk to an angel doctor instead."

Akriel rolls his eyes slightly. "Please, I've learned enough to know that forcing someone to do what they don't want to gets you nowhere, have a little faith in me, please." He gestures to her book and pencil. "I'm serious, there are literally no portraits of me, and it's kind of insulting, people don't even know I exist, I want to see what I look like on paper, so draw me."

The girl huffs, but turns the page, finding no deception in his words, and looks up at him with narrowed eyes for a long minute.

He makes a face. "Should I pose?"

A small smile slips from her façade and she shakes her head. "No, just be natural." And then, as though off hand, she makes the comment of, "I wish people didn't know I existed." When he says nothing, she looks back up at him, he smiles back down to her, but remains silent. "What, no prying, no questions, no fake concern while you tell me what's wrong with me?"

The angel shakes his head slightly. "Nope. You're free to say whatever you want. We won't talk about it if you don't want to. I'm happy to just sit here and wait for you to finish my first ever portrait. We can do whatever you want to."

She stills her pencil. "Can you get me out of here?"

"Can you not try and kill yourself one week after they discharge you, every, single, time?"

They stare at each other, their gazes unwavering, and she's the one to look down first.

He hums. "That's what I thought."

"I thought you said you were an angel," She grips her pencil tighter. " _My_ Guardian angel." She looks back up at him with angered eyes. "Shouldn't you tell me not to? Shouldn't you tell me how wrong it is? That I'm going to rot in Hell if I succeed."

"You're the one who said that you didn't want fake concern, I don't want you to think my concern is anything but genuine, if I can't show my concern, I'm going to be blunt about it." He nudges her shoulder with his boot. "Come on, keep going, it's not going to draw itself."

"Do you even want to know _why_?"

"Not if it's going to depress me, preferably not, I'm in a rather good mood."

" _'Mental Specialist'_ my ass." She glares at him heatedly. "You're not very good at this."

"Oh," he wags his eyebrows playfully. "I'm the _best_."

"Sure." She huffs, not convinced, and looks back down to her page. Her pencil skims over the paper, outlining his head lightly, and she looks back up for the features. "If you were as good as you say you are then you'd ask me why, you'd want to figure it out, you'd want to know that I do it because I'm alone and doing that is the only thing that gets me back into these places so I'm not looked at like I'm a disgusting reject. Even if it is fake concern and they all get paid to _not_ look at me like that. You'd want to know that I do it because I feel guilty and can't live with it all the time. You'd want to know that it's because I'm sick and sometimes I can't help it." She sketches out the curve of his nose. "See, you're not very good at this, you didn't even ask about it like doctors are supposed to."

"I'm not very good, huh?" He sounds amused. "I didn't even _have_ to ask. You just _told_ me."

Her hand stills, the teenager's attention turning back up towards him, eyes wide in surprise. She _had_ just told him. He hadn't even asked, he hadn't tried to butter her up into it, hadn't tried to make any false hopes and fake statements, he just sat there, and she'd spilled her guts like a can of overturned soda. "You tricked me!"

"I'm just sitting here silently." The angel shrugs his shoulders. "How is that tricking you?"

Jaleel huffs softly, nodding to his question, he was right. He had just been sitting there in silence, watching her hand move over the paper of her journal, not saying a word on any of the matters at hand. He hadn't shown an ounce of fake concern, an inkling of unreal sorrow, and then try and diagnose her with something. He just sat there and listened. She turns back to her drawing. "You're sneaky."

"It comes with the title, sorry."

"You don't sound very sorry."

"I'm not. Not really. It was just a platitude."

She looks back up at him, if only to get the shape of his eyes, they're almond shaped. "You're not like other doctors."

"Other doctors are _boring_." Akriel presses his hand to his chest. "I'm a _great_ doctor."

Jaleel smiles slightly, looking back down to her drawing, shading in his face with the edge of the pencil's graphite. She tilts her book against her when she sees him lean forward, trying to sneak a peek at the unfinished product, and he huffs when his view is disrupted. "Are you doing just my face or my entire person?" She shrugs, hunching forward to continue shading his face. "Come on, at least give me something."

"You have to wait."

"But, as your Guardian angel, I deserve a sneak peek."

"My Guardian angel is impatient."

"Darn right I am."

"You're not getting a peek, so you can just sit on back, I'll show you when I'm done."

He huffs softly, but it's playful, and he sits back again. She gets to his chin and rests her pencil against the paper, looking up at him silently, he raises an eyebrow but says nothing. "Can I touch your beard?"

"You want to touch my beard?"

The girl nods silently. "For texture, I want it to look right when I draw it."

Akriel chuckles lightly, but nods, leaning forward slightly. She inhales softly, reaching her fingers out, and brushes them over his beard. It's rough, scratchy under her finger tips, but soft at the same time. Smooth is a better word. She smiles slightly, petting his beard lightly with her fingertips, and he chuckles softly. "You like it?" Jaleel nods softly, tugging lightly at the ends, and leans back again, retracting her hand, he smiles as he leans back too. "I like it, too."

She nods softly, turning back to her drawing. "I like you, you're not like other doctors, you don't pretend."

"Doctors shouldn't pretend to care, they should care because they have a heart, I genuinely care for you."

"You're better then all those fakers."

He hums softly. "Thank you, I couldn't have asked for someone better to be a Guardian of."

Jaleel snorts softly. "You should have wished for someone who wasn't so broken."

"I don't believe in broken people. You're not broken. You're just slightly bent." He presses a hand to his chest. "I have PTSD, does that make me broken?"

The teenager's head shoots up to look at him with surprise. "You have PTSD?"

Akriel nods, examining his nails for a moment. "Yep. You wouldn't know it, but we angels had been at war for nearly four eons. We all have a semblance of it. Even the Archangels. If that doesn't make us broken, I don't know what does."

"You're not broken. You're just bent."

He looks back down at her, an eyebrow raised, an amused smile playing at his lips. "I just told you that."

"I liked it."

"Thanks, I made it up myself."

Jaleel looks back down at her journal page, streaking her pencil across the page, shading his hair in, she messed up a bit on the bun and recurved it inwards a bit more, the line was just a bit thicker then the others. "What's your home like?"

"Big, bright, full. There's lots of us up there. The buildings are magnificent. We all have a place where we belong, where we're all excepted. We're individuals, even though we're all related, we don't act like it."

"I wish I had a place to belong. I just have myself. Mom and dad got divorced when I was eight, dad left the state and started a new family, mom met _Dave_ and they got married and had a couple of kids, and then it was like I didn't even exist anymore. Mom forgot I was even _there_. She stopped washing my clothes and setting my place at the table. She stopped acknowledging I was even there towards the end." She huffs softly. "So, I packed myself a bag, took my journal, my favorite jacket, and left." She looks up to catch the curve of his ears. "I doubt she even realized I was gone. I didn't belong there anymore. I don't belong anywhere."

"Of course, you do."

"That's easy for you to say." The teenager looks up at him for a moment. "You have a family. I don't have _anyone_."

"You have me."

"Pfft, sure, my Guardian angel, who no one else can see."

"You're homeless, right?" She glares at him but nods, and he rubs at his chin thoughtfully. "Have they ever met your father?"

Jaleel stares at him, trying to figure out what he's doing, but he's as hard to read as a book in a foreign language is. "No. He lives in Florida."

The angel nods lightly, uncrossing his legs, leaning forward on his elbows. "You're ready to get out of here, right?"

The teenager nods. If she has to take in one more fake look she's going to lose it.

"I'll cut you a deal," he stares down at her, she stares up at him, both waiting for the other to react. "I'll get you out of here, but you have to make me a promise first."

"Promise, what?"

"Promise you'll talk to me, every morning, about anything you want, no matter how ridiculous."

Jaleel closes her book as she stares up at him, with wide eyes, surprised at the proposal, not sure how to respond to it. "You promise not to pretend?"

"Cross my heart." He makes a cross over his heart with his finger. "I'll never pretend to care."

She seems unsure, all the other adults in her life have let her down, but she feels like she can trust him. He hasn't judged her in the times his sneakiness has gotten her to talk, he hasn't said anything bad about her, and he most certainly hadn't pretended to care since he'd introduced himself that long hour ago. "Okay…. I promise." Jaleel leans forward on her elbows. "But, where will I go, I don't have anywhere I belong."

"You'll come stay with me, you've suffered enough in the hands of mankind, it's time for us to take over." He nods to himself, rubbing at his chin again, assuring them both. "You wouldn't be the first human we've taken in, and I don't believe you'll be the last, of course, at some point we'll have to meld your soul into a ball of grace, but that's later." Akriel nods again. "I'll get you out, and you'll come stay with me, we'll get you everything you need."

The teenager stares at him in wonder. "You'll _get_ me stuff?"

"Of course, I will, I'm your Guardian, remember."

"But I thought being a Guardian angel meant that you did little miracles or something, not like, giving me an actual place to stay."

"A home, I'm giving you a home, well, offering it, but all the same." He waves his fingers dismissively. " _'Miracle'_ is really just a word." He smiles down at her lightly. "Besides, who would know what we Guardians do better then a Guardian."

Jaleel feels a small smile trying to creep over her features, she tries to hold it back, but fails when he touches a finger to her lips. "Nope, can't take it back, I _saw_ it."

Akriel hums softly. "We'll have to get you some new clothes though, you'll have to dress the part, if you're going to be one of us. Do you prefer skirts or pants?"

"Pants for sure, skirts are too girly."

"Okay, we'll get you some trousers then. Some tunics. Undergarments, of course. Boots or sandals?"

"Boots."

"Okay, we'll get some boots. We'll get you some vests too. Vests are nice. And, some clothes for winter, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, it is presently a nice, warm summertime. How about colored pencils, do you like colored pencils?"

Jaleel nods, watching him rant to himself, making a verbal checklist of all the things they'd get. "I like colored pencils."

"Good, we'll get you some colored pencils. That portrait of mine better be in color." He looks back down at her. "Unfortunately, my room isn't big enough for three beds, Orion and Gzel share one, my son stays in the Ancient City—"

"You have a son?"

"Yes, and two daughters, three if we count you." He nods to himself. "We'll have to share a bed, is that okay?"

"Anything's okay, just get me out of here."

"Okay, here's our deal, I'll get you out of here, you'll come stay with me, and you have to talk to me _every_ morning, do you agree to my terms?"

She thought it over a minute, hugging her book to her chest tightly, and nods a moment later, holding out a hand to him. His hands are big, his fingers long, his hand dwarfs hers as he reaches out in turn to shake her hand. "Deal." She watches as he smiles, shaking her hand gently, and stands from his chair, he's tall, how had she not realized how tall he was, she hadn't really been paying attention at the beginning there. "How are you going to get me out though? Won't they notice if I just disappear?"

"Yes, they would, I'm not allowed to touch others minds without permission, just trust me." He kneels before her, reaching out to set his hand over her head. "Can you trust me?"

She shrugs, she's not sure, she feels like she can. He just gives that vibe, you know, that you can trust him. He hasn't judged her any, hasn't forced her to do something she hadn't wanted to do, well, until they made that deal, she wonders if he'd go back on it if she didn't follow it. Akriel's been kinder then any other adult has been to her, since that day, and he's hasn't pretended an ounce since they met. "I'll try to."

"That's all I ask." He winks, and in a moment, a blink of the eye, he's gone. She looks around for him, wondering where he went, he just up and vanished. He asked if she trusted him, it could come back to bite her in the ass, but she would try, he said to trust him. They made a deal. He wouldn't make a deal and say all of that stuff just to blow it off, would he? Jaleel shrugs, pushing herself up to her feet, tugs the blanket off her chair, and curls back up, reopening her book to continue on his portrait from what she can remember of his appearance.

"Jaleel," one of the nurses from the group session wanders her way back over to her corner cautiously, there's a bookshelf behind her, she's been known to throw books if they get to close. "Are you sure you don't want to join us, we're going art."

"I told you, a million times, I will _never_ join those asinine group sessions." She reaches back for a book, her fingers curling around the spine of a thick novel, and she pulls it from the shelf behind her, it's a bible, she doesn't miss the humor in this little twist of irony. "So, stop asking me!" The teenager hurls the book at the nurse, and she yelps, jumping back from her.

"Jaleel!" She knows that nurse, she's the one that works at the desk, she's there to give her the wrist band when she comes in for the two weeks she's ordered to stay. Jaleel uncurls, watching as _he_ follows in after her, the same leather jacket, bun on the back of his head, and scratchy but smooth beard, she smiles slightly when he winks at her again. The nurse stops a good pace away, cautious of the bookcase behind her, and gestures to the man behind her. "Your dad's here to take you home, isn't that great!"

"Home?"

He nods lightly. "Home, baby girl."

Jaleel smiles slightly, uncurling from her place in her chair, unwrapping herself from her blanket, and hugs her book to her chest. "Can I get my stuff?"

The man holds up her backpack and the plastic hospital bag of the clothes she had worn when she'd gotten there. "I got everything, why don't you go change while I sign you out." The teenager nods silently, stepping passed the startled nurse, this was unlike her to be so calm, and she took the bag of her clothes from the man's outstretched hand, passing him her journal in turn. She steps forward quickly, hugging around his middle tightly, for a moment, her ear pressing to his stomach, and she whispers a soft _'thanks Ak'_. He rubs his free hand down the back of her head. "Go get dressed, we have to get home before sun down."

The teenager nods, scurrying off to her room to change, the nurse turns to him, directing him to the desk up from, he sighed, he hates paperwork in any form.

Jaleel changed quickly, kicking her scrub pants off and jumping into her torn skinny jeans, throwing the scrub top off, yanking the buttons open, and hurrying into her t'shirt, yanking her favorite faux leather jacket over her bare arms, the long sleeves hid the scars from prying eyes. Fishing her bracelets from the bottom of the bag, she pulled them over her wrists, and tossed the bag over her shoulder, as she hopped into her high tops, tucked the shoe laces inside, and ran out the door excitedly. She was getting out of this place, freedom, almost freedom, was hers.

Akriel is standing next to the desk, signing the forms for her release, ignoring the nurse's longing look rather skillfully. He looks up at the sound of her sneakered feet smacking the linoleum floor at her approach. He smiles at her, eyeing her leather jacket, and raises his elbow slightly. "We match."

"I got my fashion sense from my dad."

She comes to stand at his side, watching him sign his name, reaching to take her backpack up from where he set it against his right leg, pulling the straps over her shoulders. She looks around, first over the counter, then between his hands, frowning when she only sees the pen.

"I put your journal in your backpack."

The teenager nods, leaning against the counter to watch him sign the paperwork, and he smiles down at her, finishing his signature on the last page. The nurse thanks him, rather obviously looking at his hand for a ring on his finger, he ignores that rather skillfully as well. Curling his arm around the teenager's shoulders, he pulls her close to his side, taking the folder of his copy of the paperwork from the nurse, thanks her kindly, and turns them around towards the door.

When they step out into the setting sun, he lets her pull away, she looks over her shoulder to the doors, closed now, out of that prison. "She _liked_ you."

"I know, she was _very_ obvious." He winks down at her. "How can she not, look at this handsome face."

She snorts, shoving him slightly. "You're so full of yourself, _angel_ doctor."

"I'll have you know, I'm _very_ humble." The angel tugs on her arm when they near a dark alley, and she follows him, eyeing their hideout cautiously. "What are we doing here?"

"We needed a secluded space so I can let my wings out, flying is the only way to break through the barrier, this'll do."

Jaleel turns to stare at him. and he smiles. "I'm an _angel_." He shrugs his shoulders. "Of course, I have wings." He rolls his shoulders slightly and she steps back, watching in awe as two large feathered wings uncurl from behind him, they spread wide, stretching out, and curl around his shoulders slightly. They're beautiful, white with brown speckles, and she stares in awe. He looks over his shoulder, stretching his wings slightly, and looks down at himself. "Oh, I almost forgot." He waves his hand in a downwards motion and his clothes begin to change. The sleeves on his leather jacket begin to shorten, the sleeves of his tunic lengthening, the jacket turns into a leather vest, hanging open, and the t'shirt turns into a long sleeved tunic, the collar hanging open loosely. His jeans change from long jeans into knee high trousers, his ankle high boots growing in length. He looks like one of those people in an old timey medieval book she'd seen once at the Library. "Woah!" She doesn't stare at the change of clothes so much as she does the wings, still, breath taken, she'd never seen anything like it before. "You have _wings_!"

"I do." He stretches one out towards her. "Do you want to touch it?" The teenager nods, reaching out tentatively to run her fingers over the soft feathers, they ripple under her fingers. "It's so soft."

"Isn't it?" Akriel pulls his wing back, stretching out again, and smiles down at her. "Are you ready to go?"

Jaleel nods silently, watching as he nods in turn, turning around, his back facing her, and he kneels slightly, beckoning her forward with his hand. "Climb on." She nods, again, and slowly jumps onto his back. He curls her legs around his waist and she wraps her arms around his neck loosely. "Won't this hurt you?"

"Not in the slightest. You're not the first person I've flown hanging from my back and you won't be the last." He peers at her from over his shoulder. "Duck down, the wind speed will burn your eyes." She nods, ducking her head, pressing her forehead between his shoulders, and she feels him crouch slightly, tense for a moment, his wings open wide, and in one foul swoop, he jumps up, and snaps his wings, they ricochet upwards. The wind hums in her ears as they climb upwards fast, until they fall into a steady beat, he squeezes her thighs comfortingly, and as though to signal that it was safe to look, and she pulls away from her hiding spot.

First she looks down, gasping at how small everything looks, getting smaller and smaller by the minute. She looks up, following his gaze, and gasps again, the air's rippling, like a rainbow over water. She squeezes her eyes closed when they gain closer and closer, the wind howling in her ears falls silent, a wave of _something_ overcoming her as they break through, and their speed starts to slow, the wingbeats softening. She peers over his shoulder, heads turn as they pass, pointing towards them from below.

He was right, the buildings are magnificent, they pass over a few of them, they land in front of a large building, two large wooden doors stand open. They land before them, she hops down from his back when he tells her two, peering out from behind his arm to look inside, there's a lot of beds, some of them have sleeping people in them, there's others walking through the beds, tending to them as they sleep. "This is the Infirmary, we live upstairs, work downstairs."

"It's _huge_ , angel doctor!"

Akriel chuckles softly, motioning her forward, stepping forward as though he knows she's going to follow, she does, just as he expected. She walks at his side, eyes wide, taking in their surroundings as they pass through the center row. Others turn to watch them pass, whispering between each other, Akriel nods at them and they silently return to what they were doing. "It has to be, we're big people."

"You're a fucking giant!"

"I prefer the term _'tall'_ " He waves for her to take the stairs they come to rest before and she nods, taking the first step, sparing a glance over her shoulder to make sure he follows, and feels a semblance of comfort when he steps up behind her. "Obviously, living here, there are going to be some rules, first rule, no swearing."

She nods, cresting the final stair, coming into a large open room. It's covered in rugs and pillows and large bench like couches, there's a fire place along the far wall, to the right is obviously the kitchen, and beyond that is a hallway.

Akriel leads them down the hallway to a room.

There's two beds, two wardrobes, a desk under the window, and a dark fireplace along the far wall. She freezes in the doorway as eyes turn to stare at her, Jaleel glares hotly, stepping back a step, two large warm hands curl over her shoulders and she looks up.

The angel smiles down at her. "That's Orion, the one sleeping next to her is Gzel, they're alright. The farthest thing from pretenders one could be." He squeezes her shoulders and steps them forward, tugging at the straps of her backpack until she shrugs it off into his grasp, he guides her forward, to stand before the empty bed. He waves at the other girl in the second bed, Orion, he said her name was, waves back, looking back over to her. "Ak, who's that?"

"That's Jaleel, Rio, she's going to be staying with us."

Orion stares at her a minute, and she stares back, then shrugs. "Okay." Cuddling down into her pillow, she turns away from them, curling onto her side.

Akriel shakes his head fondly, setting the backpack down on his desk, and turns to fish into his wardrobe for a clean tunic. Jaleel takes it when he holds it out to her, it's soft to the touch, and huge. She looks up at him as he fishes out another tunic and a pair of trousers, kicking his boots off. "Get changed for bed, I'll change in my brothers room to give you privacy," he gestures to the empty bed. "This is our bed, you pick which side you want and climb in, it's bedtime."

"A bedtime?"

He nods. "A bedtime."

Sighing, the teenager nods. "Okay."

He smiles at her, patting her head as he steps passed her, turning the corner.

Jaleel eyes the other two girls sleeping in the second bed, and toes her sneakers off, pushing them away with her left foot, pulling her jacket off and her t'shirt over her head, she pulls the large tunic on, and shimmies out of her skinny jeans. Turning to the empty bed, she weighs the pros and cons of both sides, and eventually comes to climb into the right side, nearest the bedside table.

The angel returns a moment later, peering around the corner, as though to make sure she was decent, and smiles when he sees her in bed. He crosses into the room, cracking the door behind him, and climbs into the other side of the bed. "We'll go to the Market in the morning to get what we need." He reaches over her for the oil lamp on the bedside table, turning the dial, the flame dims into a soft glowing ember. "You sleep well, if you need me, just wake me up, okay?"

The teenager nods. "Okay."

She sees him smile, even in the darkness, she knows he's smiling, and feels the bed move as he turns over onto his side and settles down, soft snoring filling the room minutes later.

Jaleel lays against her pillow, listening to the new sounds, the soft breathing coming from the bed next to her, the gentle snoring on her left, and she smiles softly.

"Thanks, Ak."

He inhales deeply. "You're welcome, Leel."


	4. Making It Home (Akriel & Jaleel)

She's awoken the next morning early, the sun hasn't risen yet, the stars still shine in the night sky, when she looks out the window. The bed moves gently and she knows its because he's standing up, getting out of bed, she watches him stretch, walking across the room for his wardrobe, opening the door near silently, reaching in for a clean tunic, its dark green, and he slips it over his head silently, reaches back in for a pair of trousers, and slips them on with ease, tying them in place, and reaches back in for a thick leather belt, winding it around his waist, he looks down as he does the buckle, two holes in, threading the excess through the hoop, he reaches down for a pair of long socks, moving over to sit in the desk chair as he pulls them on, his boots following soon after. He grabs one more thing from his wardrobe, a dark vest, and slips it over his shoulders, leaving it hanging open, the neck of his tunic hanging open slightly, he runs a brush through his medium length hair, rubs at his chin lightly, and turns.

Their eyes meet and he smiles, crossing over to stand next to her, she sits up slightly, unsure as to what he's doing so early.

"My shift starts early in the morning and ends at about three in the afternoon." He pushes her down gently, back against the pillow, and she stares up at him with wide eyes. It hadn't been a dream after all, she'd seriously met her Guardian angel, he was standing beside her, and he had taken her back to his home in Heaven, she was sleeping in a bed that wasn't in a ward, in a long large shirt that wasn't hers but offered some sense of comfort in the fact that it smelled like him. It had all been real. "You sleep for a bit longer, it's still early, you don't have to wake up at the crack of dawn here, sleep as much as you want to." Jaleel nods silently, curling back down against the pillow. "Oren will make breakfast when he wakes up, Gzel and Orion will show you around later when you all wake up, and then make their way down to the Infirmary below. You can stay here or come down with them if you want." The teenager nods again, her eyes fluttering softly, and she manages to see him smile again, a large hand reaches out tentatively, and brushes her dreads from her cheek, stroking the backs of his fingers over her cheek gently. It's a gentle touch, tender, loving even, and she's not used to it. She's not used to these kind things, someone being nice because they believe in genuinely being nice, someone caring because they actually care, not pretending to. She knows that Akriel cares for her, genuinely, he's not pretending. He's not fake. He's been real since they'd met. "Sleep tight, baby girl." Her eyes slide closed at the gentle touch on her cheek, and her breathing evens out, falling back into slumber.

Akriel smiles at her, spares his other girls a glance, and turns, heading for the door. He spares the three of them one last look over his shoulder as he opens his door, stepping out into the hall, cracking it behind him as he makes his leave.

She wakes a few hours later, the sunlight lighting the room up, and she jumps up when her eyes come to land on the dark-haired girl standing next to her, staring down at her, Orion's behind her, some paces away, getting dressed.

"Who are you?"

Her tone isn't mean, its more curious then anything, with a hint of firmness behind it. She tilts her head to the side, staring down at her with slightly narrows eyes.

"Jaleel." She tilts her head and eyes her over. "Who are you?"

"Gzel." She points to herself. "What are you doing here?"

"Angel doc—Ak brought me here."

"Why?" She gets eyed in return. "Your _human_."

"So," Jaleel turns out of the bed. "Is that a problem?"

"Why'd he bring a human here?"

Orion turns, tugging on her sleeve, trying to stave off an altercation, lest they make Akriel upset by fighting. "G, Ak is her Guardian."

She turns to look at her sister. "He is? Since when is Ak a Guardian angel?" Orion leaned forward, curling her fingers slightly around her mouth, and whispered in the other girls ear, Gzel nodded, her eyes widening slightly, before shrugging. "Okay," she turns to the other teenager. "Welcome, I guess, you can borrow my clothes until you get your own."

The human teenager nods. "Thanks." And stands from the bedside. "Ak said you'd show me around." Gzel and Orion exchange looks, nodding in unison, Orion digs into their wardrobe, pulling out a pair of Gzel's trousers and a light red tunic. They turn around as she dresses, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, just because they were okay changing in front of each other didn't mean that the new girl was. They eye her carefully, noting her lack of covering in the shoe department, Gzel shrugs lightly. "I only have one pair of boots." She shoes them her right foot. "And, I'm not sharing them."

Jaleel shakes her head, stepping through them to her things, her clothes had been folded and set on the edge of the desk, and reaches for her sneakers. "I have shoes."

She slips them on, tucking the laces inside, and sits back up again.

Orion curls her hand around her mouth and Gzel shrugs again. "Works for me." She turns for the door. "Come on, Oren's going to be finishing breakfast at this point." The other girls follow after her, Jaleel turns to the one at her side. "Oren?" Orion looks over at her and nods. "One of Akriel's brothers. Don't tell him I said so, but Oren makes better eggs then he does." They walk down the hall together, Gzel hops forward, reaching under the man's arm for something, jumping back with a pilfered piece of bacon, laughing as he turns to swat at her as she dances out of reach. "Gzel!"

"Thanks, Oren." She swipes her bowl of eggs off the counter and munches on her piece of bacon. He shakes his head and turns, setting a few pieces of bacon in the second bowl, turning to hold it out to Orion. "Here, Rio-hello." His eyes widen when they find her. Jaleel waves slightly. "You're the one Ak told us about, Jaleel, right?"

The teenager nods lightly. "Right."

"Well," he reaches to his other side for another bowl, scoops some eggs into it, and tops it off with a few pieces of bacon. "I'm Oren, you can call me Ori if you'd like," he holds the bowl out to her and she takes it hesitantly. "Welcome to the family, kiddo." She nods silently. "Thanks." Following Gzel to the table, sitting across from her, tentatively taking a bite of the bacon, then the eggs, and she hums softly at the taste, taking another bite. "Good, isn't it?" Orion slides in beside her, and she nods, munching on a bite of eggs.

They eat their eggs quickly, moving on to their bacon, and wash it all down with glasses of orange juice. Thanking Oren, they make their way to the stairs, she follows the others down to the floor below them, stopping in awe at the bustling Infirmary. Angels bustle about tending to things, tending to patients in beds, files and pouring water, tending to things that need tending to. It's like the hospitals on Earth, the ones she's walked through to get to her Ward, but this one is colorful, it doesn't smell like antiseptic and sick people.

"Come on," Orion tugs on her arm, Gzel leads them forward, and she stumbles forward, following after them. "Ak's this way."

They pass by rows of beds, angels turn to look at them as they pass before returning to their doings, she spots him as they approach. He's pulled his hair down from the bun on top of his head, it brushes down over his shoulders, leaning over a desk as he scribbles something in a file, she recognizes the next movement of him signing it, and he closes the file, handing it back to the angel standing at his side. They scurry off and he turns to them, their eyes meet, and he smiles as he stands to meet them half way.

"Good morning, girls." He hugs Gzel and Orion, pausing before Jaleel, unsure if she would want one or not. The teenager takes a tentative step forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, she doesn't see him smile again, but she feels his arms circle around her. "Did you sleep well?"

All three girls nod, as Jaleel steps back, taking her spot beside Orion back.

Akriel smiles at them again, nodding to the older two girls. "Rio, G, you should go tend to your chores." They both huff, but nod, leaving her alone with him. The angel doctor smiles down at her, gesturing for her to follow him, and he leads her back to his desk, motioning for her to sit in the chair at the side. "Let's talk."

Jaleel rubs her arm, flopping down in the chair languidly. "I don't _talk_ to doctors."

"I know you don't, but we made a deal, remember." He leans back in his own chair. "Besides, I'm not here as a doctor, I'm here as your Guardian, you never said you wouldn't talk to your Guardian angel."

The teenager stares at him for a long hard minute, stares at his kind eyes and that small little smug smirk as he calls her on her loophole, and blinks as she turns to glare at him, pointing a slim finger at him from her seat, as she pulls her foot up to curl under her on the chair, leaning against the side of the desk. "That's sneaky."

"I wouldn't have gotten this far if I wasn't a bit sneaky."

They stare at each other, until she looks down to the desktop. "I don't know what to talk about. I've never done this before."

"That's alright," he reaches out to brush her cheek lightly. "We can talk about anything you want."

"Like what?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. That's up for you to decide. I can tell you what _I'd_ like to talk about."

"No, no," she shakes her head. "I'll think of something." He nods, waiting patiently for her to make up her mind, and part of her wonders if she can out wait him, she'd sat with a doctor for an entire hour in silence once, it aggravated him to no end, he left her alone about talking after that, Akriel crosses his arms loosely, as though reading her mind, and raises an eyebrow at her. "Uummm, okay, okay, let me think." She holds up her hand. "I know, I know." She turns to look at him more fully. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Easy, because you needed a home. Not a shelter, not a temporary home, a real life, actual home." He nods. "The humans have failed you, so it's our turn now, I won't fail you like they did."

"Why do you care?"

"Because, I have a heart. A heart that's in the right place. As a doctor, it's my job to help others. As your Guardian angel, it's my job to help you."

Jaleel finds that she likes talking to Akriel. He doesn't push and he doesn't pry, he lets her decide what they talk about, and doesn't try to change the subject to something he'd rather talk about instead. He just sits there and listens to her ramble, answering the questions she throws his way. It's the first time she actually talked to a doctor and enjoyed it, the first time she's actually _talked_ to a doctor in general, and there's not an ounce of pretending to be found. The emotion in his responses is real, she can read into it that much, his care is real, he really cares when he responds to her. And, he answers them all truthfully, with as much honest conviction as he can muster when he thinks over his responses, he doesn't just say what she wants to hear, he says the truth.

Like when she asked him again if he thought she was broken, he said the same thing he had said before, that he doesn't believe in broken people, there are bent people, but not broken people. He said that he did think there was some things that she had to work through, and motioned to her arms, where she knew he knew her scars were, and that he had absolute faith in that she could overcome it and come out stronger.

By the time he says they're done talking, or that they can be done, she feels different. She feels lighter, like someone's finally heard her, that someone's finally acknowledged that she has feelings and hopes and dreams and desires and likes and dislikes. That she's real and she's there and she exists. She hasn't felt like that since she'd run away from her mom and step dad's house

"See, that wasn't so hard." He leans forward. "We've been talking for an hour."

"It's been an _hour_!"

"It has," the angel nods, rubbing his hands together lightly. "And, it's three o'clock, meaning my shift is over, also meaning we can go get you what you need now."

Jaleel makes a face. "We're going _shopping_?"

"We have to."

"But that's _boring_!"

Akriel shrugs, leaning against his desk. "Well, I thought we'd go to an art supply store first, get some paints and colored pencils and canvases, but if you don't want to, we don't have to."

She stares at him. "You'd get me all that?"

"I would. All the art supplies your little heart desires." He waves a few fingers. "But, if you don't want to go, that's fine too, we don't have to."

"No, no!" She jumps from her chair; Jaleel reaches for his arm to tug on excitedly. "No, I want to go!"

The angel chuckles softly, letting her pull him to his feet. "Alright, alright, we can go, calm down." He motions for her to step forward, and she does, looking over her shoulder periodically to make sure he was following, he curled his right hand over her shoulder to assure her that he was there, behind her, and she looked forward, letting him guide her forward towards the entrance of the Infirmary. "We'll get you somethings from Earth first, and then go to our Bazaar to get what you'll need up here, we'll get something to eat while we're on Earth, because I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

"What about money?"

"I'm an angel." He comes to stand beside her once they exit the Infirmary, making their way down the stairs slowly, and spares her a smile as he watches his footing and the steps go by one after another. "Money has no meaning to me. I can have as much of it as I want with a mere thought." He tugs lightly on a dread. "So, there's no expense to spare, no limit, you want it, you can have it." He hums softly, in thought. "There are certain restrictions though, obviously, like no alcohol, nothing that could harm you, we don't do cell phones up here either, so no cell phone."

Jaleel looks up at him. "Can I get an Ipod, I like listening to music."

He nods. "Yes, you can get an Ipod. We have internet here, we may still look to be stuck in the medieval times, but we're not living in the dark ages. The human's side of Heaven is typically the only side that uses it. But we have internet and electricity." He brushes her dreads over her shoulder gently. "I can make you an outlet to charge your Ipod."

She turns to stare up at him. "You have _internet_ here?"

"Girl, it's the twenty-first century. There's not a single place, including Heaven, that doesn't have internet."

"But…..You use oil lamps and stuff!"

"Just because we're comfortable in a certain way doesn't mean we don't stay up with the times. The same can be said for the other _'paradises'_ and the Ancient City. Anubis, the god of the dead, has a tablet to play games." He winks down at her mystified look. "Don't tell him I said anything, he'd deny it anyway, but he's addicted to Candy Crush and online Poker."

"The Egyptian God, that _Anubis_?"

"Yes, him, he comes around quite a bit, he's good friends with Raph."

"Raph as in—"

"Raphael? The Archangel Raphael?" He nods, chuckling at her shock, she was living in Heaven, and that's what shocked her. It's amusing, immensely amusing. "Yes, you'll meet him too, we live above his Infirmary. He built the entire place but left it up to use to design our own rooms."

"Can I get a tablet too?" She steps down the last stair, and they make their way up the Axis towards the gates. "I like looking for inspiration for my art."

"Sure, we'll get what we need." He assures her, as they begin the claim up the small staircase to the gates. "If you see something you want, then grab it, like I said, there's no monetary limit. You can have anything your little heart desires."

"Thanks, angel doctor."

He smiles at the name, nodding his head, as they come to stand just beyond the gates. "No problem." Jaleel looks over the edge timidly, her eyes attracted to the flowing of the rainbow hue, it rippled like water in a creek.

"We have to get down the same way we came up." Akriel hums lightly. "Before we go though, we have to fit in." He touches a hand to his chest, and his appearance changes, his tunic sleeves shrinking in length, the collar rising into a Vee neck, the vest grew in size, back into the leather jacket he had worn when they had first met. He sighed, pulling his hair up and out from under the collar of his t'shirt and jacket. The fabric of his trousers changed in texture, growing into a pair of dark jeans, the length of his boots changing, shrinking, back into ankle boots. Nodding in approval, he turned to look at the teenager next to him, shaking his head lightly. "You, too." He reaches out, pressing his fingertips to her forehead, and she looks down, watching as her borrowed clothes change in appearance as well. Her tunic and trousers combined into one, the legs of the trousers splitting, coming together up the middle and up the back, forming a skirt around her waist. A black dress. A design swirls into place, sunflowers, a black dress with sunflowers. Her high tops don't change. They stay the same. Akriel smiles in approval. "Better."

The teenager rubs her hands down her middle, looking down at herself, turning to the side to see behind, and shrugs, looking back up at him. "Thanks. It's nice."

"You're welcome." He rolls his shoulders, manifesting his wings once more, stretching them out widely before curling them behind his shoulders. Turning, the angel crouches, gesturing her forward from over his shoulder. "Climb on."

Stepping forward, Jaleel curls her hands over his shoulders, curling her right leg around his waist, his fingers curl under her knee to hold her up, reaching back for the left, and she settles against his back easily as he stands back to his full height. She looks down, peering over his shoulder, watching as he walks them closer to the edge. He turns his head slightly, his beard rubs against her cheek softly, as his grip tightens on her. "Ready?"

The human girl nods, tucking her head against the side of his neck, as he looks forward again. He pulls his wings in close, smiles slightly, and falls forward over the edge. Jaleel screams at the sudden drop, her grip tightening around his neck and his waist, he squeezes her thighs gently, letting them free fall through the barrier, before opening his wings wide, catching them in their descent, he flaps his wings in three great swoops and they fall steady, hovering midair, and he laughs. "I think I'm deaf in my right ear now."

"That wasn't funny!"

"It was kind of funny."

"You're a jerk, angel doctor."

"No, I'm nice." He chuckles softly, looking down at the Earth below them, it's faint, a mix of blurred colors. "I could have tossed you over the edge. But I let you climb on instead."

"You wouldn't have."

"I could still drop you."

Her grip tightens. "Don't you dare."

"I don't know, that's what a jerk would do, and you said I'm a jerk."

"You're not a jerk!" She rests her chin on his shoulder. "Please don't drop me."

"Fine, I won't." He smirks slightly. "Not this time, at least." He tucks his wings in again, and dives them forward, and they free fall for a bit before he catches them again, making their descent smoother and slower. "I dropped my son a few times, it's greatly amusing, every time."

She sniffs softly. "That's not nice."

"No, perhaps not, but it's entertaining."

They land in an alley, he crouches slightly for her to jump down from his back, and she comes to stand at his side as he rolls his shoulders again, tucking his wings back, until they disappear from sight. He turns to look down at her. "Hungry?"

Jaleel nods, rubbing her stomach as it rumbles, as though to answer his question for itself. Her Guardian angel chuckles softly, gesturing her forward, and they walk down the alley to the street it interjects from. Turning down the sidewalk. "Let's go get something to eat." They come to a curbside restaurant, letting the waiter guide them to their table, and look over the menu. She gets a tuna melt and some fries with water as her drink, he gets tuna melt and some chips, a coke as his drink. They eat in silence, too busy enjoying their food to speak, and finish in no time, humming in favor. Akriel and her leave once they're done, he tosses two twenties on the table, and guides out of the curbside seating with a hand on the small of her back.

They walk down the street to a Michael's art supply store, and he turns them inside, she looks around in awe at all the art supplies, for different types of projects, as the angel gets them a cart. "Lets look around," he leans forward against the bar of the cart. "If you see something you like, put it in the cart."

Jaleel looks over to him. "Anything?"

"Anything."

They walk down the first aisle together, looking over the different types of shading pencils, she points to a small four pack, and looks over to the angel at her side. He nods, looking over to the right a bit. "Get the big pack."

"But that's almost twenty dollars."

"And, I told you, money is no problem. Get the big pack."

The teenager smiles slightly and reaches for the value pack of shading pencils, a pencil sharpener, and a pack of different erasers. She sets them in the cart with a small smile. In the same isle they come to the colored pencils. There's another big pack, full of all assortments of shades, she turns to look at her Guardian again and he nods, nodding to the cart. Smiling again, she pulls off two packs, she goes through colored pencils like it's nobodies business, and sets them in the cart. He watches her smile, its small and shy, but it's happy, as they walk through the different isles, she looks to him a few times when she comes across something she wants, and he nods every time, until she just begins putting her findings in the cart on her own, without looking back for permission. She gets two new journals, canvases of different sizes, a bunch of different paints and an assortment of brushes, a table top easel, and a small bowl to clean the brushes in. She also gets a bag of chocolate covered pretzels, because they're her favorite, and she hasn't gotten to have them in as long as she can remember.

They make it to the check out with a half full cart, she smiles as she puts her things up on the counter for the cashier to scan up, and steps down to the end, where the cashier bags her things, and collects the bags to put back in the cart, Akriel pushes the cart up closer to her, standing up from where he's leaning against the handle bar, reaching into his back pocket for a wallet, she didn't even know he had one, he never ceased to surprise her. There's nearly a dozen bags, and she smiles as she looks down at them, full of art supplies, and it's all for her. He watches her smile, as he waits for the cashier to finish, and it brings a smile to his face, it's good to see her happy like this. He pays the cashier when they're done, looking over as Jaleel puts the final two bags into the cart, taking the receipt that's held out to him.

The two of them walk out to the parking lot, it's sparse, and come to stand just outside the doors. Akriel looks from one side of the parking lot to the other, and waves his hand over the cart full of bags, the teenager watches as the blink out of existence and turns back to her Guardian. "I sent them along. They'll be on your desk."

She tilts her head. "My desk?"

He nods. "Your desk. I had two of my brothers, Constantine and Ephraim, put another desk in our room for you to use."

"Cool!" She hugs him softly, a quick hug, he curls his arms around her for a brief moment, before she jumps back. "Thanks, Ak."

"Of course, Leel." He pushes the cart to the side, and steps forward, curling his arm around her shoulders, she's a bit more comfortable, pressing into his side. "There's an electronics store down the street, lets stop there first, and then we'll head home."

He's right, there's a Best Buy down the street, and they stop in, for a tablet and an Ipod. She gets both, the latest and greatest, and accessories, headphones, a protective case for both of them. He sends those bags along in the similar fashion he sent the ones before them, and they wander back down the street, side by side, bantering softly between each other, back for the alley they'd arrived in. This time, when he crouches for her, she takes him by surprise, by circling around to his front, curling her arms around his neck, he chuckles softly as he stands, lifting her from her feet, and her legs curl around his waist. He kneels slightly, opening his wings, and pushes off into the sky above. As they reach a steady pace, she pulls away from hiding against his neck, and smiles at him. "Thanks for getting me all this stuff."

"We're not done yet, baby girl, we've still got to get you clothes."

"Can I still wear your shirt to sleep in?"

He nods, kissing her nose lightly. "Of course, you can."

"Thanks, Ak." She smiles at him, it's a bright smile, one of those rare smiles, he'd never seen this kind of smile from her before and he cherishes it, vowing to get it to as a more regular occurrence. She turns to the side, resting her head on his shoulder, his beard rubs against her cheek, as he presses a kiss under her ear. "You're very welcome."

They still had some things to work through, but they'd get there, he refused to fail her like all others had.


	5. Mood Lifting (Oren & Ephraim)

"Upstairs. Now." They stand chest to chest, face to face, glaring at each other with all the heat in the world, neither was going to be the first to break away. The elder stepped forward, forcing the younger back a step, and pointed over his shoulder tensely. "You're. Done." He leans in closer. "Go." The younger angel grinds his teeth, glaring silently, not caring in the slightest for the crowd that was forming around them. "I'm not done yet." The elder growls lowly, fingers curling tightly around his arm, and forces him around, shoving him forward a step. "Yes, you are." He stumbles as he's shoved forward again. "Go."

The younger growls in similar fashion, turning over a cart as he stalks forward, towards the stairs at the back of the Infirmary.

They all watch him go, not knowing what had set off the even tempered angel's temper, watching him turn over carts and swipe off desks as he passed them, stalking up the stairs until he was out of sight.

He watches him until his disappears, jaw clenched, and huffs angrily as he turns around, shooing everyone else back to their work. His brother falls in step at his side. "Oren, are you okay?"

"Do I _look_ like I'm okay?" He turns a glare on him, continuing to his desk, looking away before he can see the other angel raise their hands in defense. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He'd better get himself into check, or so help me, I don't care, I'll beat him until he can't _stand_ without flinching."

"While I agree that his attitude needs to be put back into check, perhaps a firmer approach isn't the best idea." The Captain turns a harsh gaze onto the other angel, it's not directed at him, but it's still biting. "Then what do you suggest, _Akriel_?"

The Mental Specialist is unphased by his anger. "Things have been very tense here lately, we've all been on edge, you know how he is in picking up other peoples emotions and how they can overcome even his lengthy temper." Oren nods slightly, he does know these things, Ephraim's always been vulnerable to the strong emotions around him when they're potent enough. "Perhaps his mood just needs to be lifted. It's been some time since the two of you have had _that_ kind of alone time together. Maybe it's time you made up for that." He nods again, it has been some time since they had one of those moments, carefree and playful, it always did make their younger brother happier, lifting his mood to new levels. "Your anger facing off against his temper will do nothing but cause more harm. He needs helped, not reprimanded, he's merely been overcome by everything."

Akriel watches him closely, as he nods again, agreeing to his words and suggestions, and as he rubbed a hand over his face in resignation. Ephraim would be harmed more rather than reprimanded if he were to go that route he had intended to go. "You're right. Of course, you are. These things are your forte." He looks up to his brother, the anger having faded from his features as understanding overcame him, agreeing to what was needed. "You're in charge while I'm away."

The Mental Specialist nods, patting him on the shoulder as he turns, making his own way back through the rows of the Infirmary floor, towards the stairs at the back, that lead up to their Loft above. The Lounge has been destroyed in his wake, he ignores it, it'll be set to rights when they're done. He continues on, to the hall that holds there bedrooms, walking down the hall towards the closed door, there's banging from inside, the rooms being torn apart behind that door. Sighing, to calm his own anger back down, that wasn't what was needed right now, he reaches for the door handle, turning it open, he pushes to door inwards. There's a scream and he ducks quickly to avoid the book thrown at him from within the room, looking to his younger brother, he rushes forward, not allowing him another chance to find something else to throw, and curls his arms around his waist as he tackles him backwards over the bed behind him. The younger angel shrieks in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden rush, and reaches his fist back when he's settled on his back, to throw forward, aimed at his older brothers face, but the older angel looks up just as he throws it forward, and catches his fist mid swing, lifting it up above his head, hold his arm captive.

Oren comes up to look him in the eye, his eyes are red, angered beyond belief, especially at being restrained. "Get the fuck off me."

"I can't do that." He curls his free arm under him. "I was going to beat you until you couldn't stand without it hurting. But Ak talked me down." "I couldn't care less." "He said you needed your mood lifted, and luckily for us, I know just how to do that." "I fucking _hate_ you." He smiles slightly. "We haven't gotten to do this for quite some time, I've neglected you, Ephi, it's time to make up for that." "Don't you fucking _dare_." He leans over to the side, to the exposed underarm, his arm still captive above his head, fingers curled into a tight fist. "I think I'll start with my little friend here."

"Oren, I'm fucking warning you!"

"Uh, uh, ah, you are to call me _'Ori'_ " He dips his finger into the exposed armpit and the angel under him jolts slightly, biting his lip tightly, he's surprised he hasn't managed to draw blood. " _Oren!"_ He wiggles his finger slowly and the younger angel squirms under him, his arm tugging slightly in his grip, and he smiles softly. "No, no, I told you to call me _'Ori'_. I'm not Oren now, I'm you big brother, _'Ori'_."

"Stohohop!"

"No, no, we're making up for lost time." He wiggles his finger a bit faster, digging in with a second, and the younger angel finally shrieks softly, his fingers uncurling and spreading. "Nohohoho! Ohohohohorihihhihi!"

"There we go. That's it."

"Nohohhoho! Tihihihihickles!"

"These tickles, huh?" He digs five fingers into the armpit under him, looking over to his younger brother's face, smiling at the way his eyes sparkle with mirth. "I forgot just how ticklish you are." He reaches up, pulling his fingers away from his armpit, and scratches a finger lightly over the side of his neck. Ephraim yelps, scrunching his shoulder up as much as he can, pressing his head to his shoulder in an attempt to block the finger, but it only traps it against his neck, he shrieks softly, when his brother lets go of his wrist, and begins scratching two fingers over either side of his neck. Shaking his head, he shrieks intermittently, scrunching his shoulders up trying to block the fingers from his neck. He manages to trap the fingers of his left hand, but the right ones are free, they come up to scratch under his chin, and he yelps, giggling these high pitched giggles, pressing his chin to his chest to try and stave off the fingers, but they jump back to the sides of his neck, scratching a light path down to his ears and back up to the side of his chin. " _Orihihihihi!"_

"You don't want me to tickle your neck?" Ephraim shrieks softly, shaking his head frantically, and Oren chuckles softly. "Where do you want me to tickle you?"

"Nohhohoho tihihihickles!"

"Oh, no, you were a bad angel, you're getting tickles as your punishment."

"Ihihihihi'm sohohhhohohoorry!"

He chuckles softly. "Apology accepted." Oren wiggles his fingers down at him, as he sits up onto his knees, the younger angel giggles in anticipation. "But you're still getting tickles as your punishment, so where do you want tickles, you better choose before I choose for you."

"Nohohhohoho! Ihhihihihih sahahahahahiiihihihihaid sohohohorry!"

"Okay, I'll choose, belly tickles."

"NO! Nohohoho! Ohohhohoriihihhihi! Nohohoh beheheheelly tihihihickleehehehehes!"

"Oh, lots of belly tickles." He snakes his fingers up under his tunic, pressing into the bare skin. "We've got to turn that mood around, and the best way for that is," he wiggles his fingers into the younger angel's bare belly, and he shrieks brightly, arching his back as boisterous laughter exploded from him. "Belly tickles."

Ephraim shrieks intermittently, shoving at the hands under his tunic desperately, kicking his legs out behind his older brother, trapped under him as he sat over his waist. "Ohohohohorihhihihihihi! Ihihihihi'm sohohohohorry!"

"How sorry are you?" He wiggles his fingers into his lower belly, and the young angel jolts, throwing his head back in laughter. "You disrespected me in front of _everyone_. You better be seeping with just how sorry you are."

"Veehehehehehehery! Veehehehehehehery vehehehehery soohohohohorry!" He shrieks with laughter, batting at those torturous hands frantically. "Nohohhohohot my behehehheelly! Nohohohohoot thehehehrrrehehehehehe!"

"Not your belly?" He obliges, pulling his fingers away from his belly, and reaches down to squeeze at his thighs. "How about these thighs?" He curls his fingers inwards. "These thighs have always been a good spot."

Ephraim's eyes widen almost comically, and he squeals, kicking his legs desperately. "EEIEIIEIEEHEHHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOT THEEHEHEHAHAHAHAHHEHEHEHEAHERE! OOHOHOHOHOHORIIHIHIHIHII! TIHIHIHIHIICKLES! TIHIHIHIHICKLES! IHHIHIHIHIHI'M SOHOHHOOORRRY!"

"I heard you, and I already said your apology has been accepted, now we're just fixing that mood, and making sure it stays in high spirits."

"IHIHIHIHI'M BEHEHEHEHEAAHAAHHAHAHAEETTER! ITIHIHIHIHITS BEHEHEHEHEEAAHAHAHAHAHEEHEHEETTER! ITS BETTER!"

"I don't know about that, we need to be sure, one hundred percent positive."

"IHIHIHIIM POOHHOHOHOAOAHAHHAHAHAHAHOSITIVE! IHIHHIHIHI SWEHEHEHEHEAAAHAHAHAHHAHAAAARRRR!"

Oren pauses, staring down at him, smiling as he heaves for air. "Hmmm." Ephraim's eyes widen at that tone. "I don't think I believe you." And promptly squeals again when those fingers dug back in.


	6. Life Without Parole (Thaddeus & Gadreel)

He stumbled as he was dragged down the hall, it had all happened so fast, one moment he was stepping aside for the Morningstar, the Archangel's frequented the Garden often, it was nothing out of the usual for the Morningstar to come and request entrance, he did so frequently, the Garden was one of his prides, he spent much of his time inside, so he thought nothing of the matter when he stepped aside and allowed him entrance, and in the next moment there were guards there, forcing him to his knees before the Commander, his harsh gaze staring at him accusingly, accusing him of damning humanity, calling him a traitor to his own kind, he tried to speak his case, to tell him what had happened, the news that the Morningstar was exiled had been delayed to his ears, he hadn't known, he hadn't the faintest idea, but he would hear none of it, still, he called him a traitor, and his breath caught, as his sentence was passed down. There was no trial, no convening of the remaining pieces of the council, just sentencing.

_"For damning Humanity and letting the Serpent into the Garden, you will spend the rest of your days behind the bars of a prisons cell, with no hope of redemption. May Father forgive you for this deed because there will be none from me. Take him."_

He screamed, struggling against the guards holds, thrashing and kicking, begging for him to understand, to see reason, to just _listen_. But the Archangel turned away from him, he was done with him, he was dismissed. He screamed himself hoarse, tears trailing down his face, begging those that they passed for aid. Falling still, if only to look up at the high looming building, the darkest part of Heaven, where most angels went with no hope of seeing freedom again, it was in that moment that he knew he stopped breathing. He was going to spend the rest of his life within this place for something that he hadn't done, hadn't known to stop, for something that wasn't really his fault. They dragged him forward, down the hall of the Prison, the door to the outside world growing smaller and smaller, until it disappeared behind another door, his mind hadn't quite caught up to him yet, it was all happening so fast, and it wasn't until he was shoved into a cell, the barred gate slammed shut, that reality began to sink in again.

He ran forward, colliding with the bars, reaching out for them, begging them to come back, to just listen to him, let him explain himself. But his pleas fell of deaf ears, they ignored him, as they continued their trek down the hall, until they disappeared behind a door, and he was on his own, alone in a cell that would be his home for the rest of his life, for a crime that wasn't his.

His breathing became shallow, hurried, until he was choking on it. His fingers slowly came up to his throat, scratching frantically, he couldn't breathe, his vision was fading in and out, everything was becoming blurry, the voices around him sounded like they were underwater. He vaguely saw the form of someone standing before the bars of his cell, he couldn't make out their features, as he blinked owlishly and stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet, tumbling back, crashing into the stone cot that jet out from the wall, his head hurt now, the silhouette disappeared from view, darting off suddenly, he didn't care, he couldn't breathe, his chest was starting to hurt, his head hurt, dots were beginning to spin in his vision.

There were noises, there was two figures there now, one was hunched over, he could hear noises, far away and faint, was that the gate to his cell opening? Someone, two people, rushed into his cell, one knelt in front of him, he could make them out vaguely better then the other, who stood a few more paces away.

"Ga…Gad…You…Down….Going…Pass…" He was getting nowhere, he could barely make out what was being said, and the other seemed to register as much, as his hands curled around his cheeks, pulling him closer, his chin resting against his cheek as he spoke directly into his ear. "Gad, you have to calm down." He knew that voice, that voice always protected him, that was a voice from his fledglinghood, he knew that voice, that was the voice of his big brother. He reaches up, his hands shaking, pulling away from his neck, leaving the skin scratched and raw, curling into the front of the older angel's tunic. "Gad you're going to pass out, you need to calm your breathing, you need to calm down." He shakes his head, he can't, he doesn't know how, it hurts, make it stop. One of the hands around his cheeks pulls away, curling around one of his, it presses his palm firmly against the chest under it. "Can you feel my breathing?" He nods, deliriously, he's beginning to feel light headed. "I need you to match it, can you do that, can you match my breathing. Match and mimic it, I need you to do that for me, match and mimic." He nods again, holding his breath every time he inhales a frantic inhale, his chest pounds with his heart beat, his heads spinning, whether it be from lack of oxygen or the nasty knock he took, he doesn't know. He slowly calms, his breathing slowly evening out, matching the rise and fall of the other angel's chest. His visions still fuzzy around the edges, but its starting to clear away, there's a guard standing twice a pace from him, and before him, kneeling in front of him, is his older brother. His older brother always let him explain, always listened, and he began sputtering, trying to get his story out as quick as he could. The older angel nodded occasionally, listening to him as he spewed his story to him without fail or interruption, he was innocent, he was innocent of the crimes he was accused of.

"I didn't—I didn't-It wasn't—I—I—"

"I know, Gad." His hands are back around his cheeks, holding his head steady, their gazes locked together. His older brothers gaze is sympathetic, he hurts just as much as the younger angel does, Michael was too blinded to see what had truly happened. "I know. You're going to be okay, alright? I'm going to take care of you now. Everything's going to be okay." He slowly stands, tugging on his arm. "Come on, Gad, come on. Let's take a look at your head." He stumbles to his feet, collapsing against his brother's side, his arm curls around him securely to keep him from falling to the stone floor under them. Thaddeus leads him from his cell carefully, slowly, pausing briefly to turn to the guard. "Get him an extra pillow and some extra blankets. A new tunic. He'll have broth and bread for supper." The guard nods, leaving them to fetch what had been ordered of him, and the Warden gently helps the younger angel out of the cell, closing the gate behind them, and guides him down the hall towards his office at the end. The other Prisoners watch them as they pass their cells, watching as the Warden and the Prisoner slowly disappear from sight, as they enter the Warden's office and he closes the door behind him.

Thaddeus leads him to the cot along the far wall, sitting him on the edge, and leans over him, reaching back with the fingers of his right hand, examining the wound on the back of his head. He grimaces, touching a few fingers to the edges, Gadreel's hisses, but doesn't pull away. "You've given yourself quite the cut here." He smiles down at him as he leans back. "No stitches needed. A bit of disinfectant and some bandages will patch you right up." He pats his cheek lightly, stepping back for the cupboard behind his desk, riffling through it for a swath of bandages and a bottle of disinfectant. Gadreel watches him as he closes the cupboard door and crosses back to his side, wetting a portion of the cloth, he gently pulls his head forward, dabbing the dampened cloth over the gash on the back of his head. "Sorry, it's going to burn a bit." When he hisses in discomfort. He cleans up the gash and binds the bandages around his head, to keep any outside debris from getting into the open gash. He turns for a moment, pouring some water into the glass on the corner of his desk, and holds it up under his lips. "Take a few sips." He does, it stings his raw throat lightly, but he takes another sip greedily. "There you go, that's it."

The older angel turns again, depositing the glass back on his desk, and turns back to guide the younger angel back against the cot, resting his head lightly on the pillow. "You take a rest for a while, I'll wake you when it's time for supper."

"Thadd….Thadd…"

"I know, Gaddy, I know. It's going to be okay." He rubs his cheek lightly, pulling the blankets up over him. "I'm going to watch over you now. You're going to stay with me now." He rubs his cheek again, brushing his hair back. "You rest for a bit, your heads got to be killing you, rest for a bit and I'll wake you for supper."

"Okay, Thadd." He nods lightly, flinching as it makes the gash on his head twinge. "Okay. Thadd, I'm scared."

"It's going to be okay, baby brother." He brushes his bangs back again. "I'm going to take care of you. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

"You promise, big brother?"

"I swear."

He's not sure when he fell asleep, but when he wakes up, to the gentle shaking of his shoulder, the sun in the window of the Warden's office has gone down, the rooms illuminated by a set of oil lamps. He's pulled a small table around for him, a tray of bread and broth set before him, a glass of chilled water to top it off. "Supper time, baby brother."

He stays with his older brother for the first couple of days, to make sure he doesn't fall prone to having anymore panic attacks, sleeping in his older brothers quarters for a few days after his arrival, before he's moved to his cell, he can only stay with the Warden for so long. Thaddeus always lets him out in the morning though, letting him come stay in his office with him or walk with him as he makes his rounds around his Prison. He sees him every night before he goes to bed, he makes sure he's in bed and tucked in before leaving him for the night, he takes good care of him, just as he promised he would.

Everything's going to be okay, that's what his big brother promised.

His first 'torture' session he goes through is terrifying, well, he thought it was going to be. As much as the others talked it up, he expected it to be horrible, but by Father, he hasn't laughed that hard in such a long time. His older brother knows all the right buttons to push, and when he gets his fingers on his toes, he can't help but become a squealing mess, kicking and begging for mercy that doesn't come quick. And when his older brother's done, he comes to nap in his office while he works, before being taken back to his cell at days end, and let out again come morning.

His brother swore to take care of everything and he trusted him.


	7. The Kind Warden (Thaddeus)

The boots echoing down the hall had all the prisoners backing up in their cells, they knew who it was, he always came around this time, finding someone to take back with him, they'd all had a round with him, they knew how brutal he could be, and they hid back in the dark corners of their cells, trying to make sure they did nothing to draw attention to themselves, lest they be the one taken back there this time. The shadows hid smiles, faces were tucked into arms to hide away even more, hiding smiles behind them, some bit back the giggles of anticipation that built up within them as the sound of the boot steps drew nearer and nearer to them, feeling the tingles run over their sensitive spots. Some curled their arms around their bellies, others curled their toes up, pressing back into their shadowed corner, watching as the shadow along the wall grew larger and larger. They watched with wide eyes as the being walked passed their cells, sometimes he'd pause, if only to add to the torturous anticipation, smirking as he heard the steep inhales as he looked around into his cells, his eyes always managing to find the prisoner within, and they'd curl tighter around themselves, breathing a sigh of relief when he moved on, leaving them in their shadows, they were spared his torture, if only for the moment.

"Who should I take with me today?" He stops before a few cells, peering into the occupant hiding in the dark corner, smiling at them that smile that always alluded to his torture to come, some of the teased souls would giggle softly, curling tighter, and he'd smile again, something lighter, something fonder, and he'd move on. "I could take a few of you, I have nothing to do today but spend time with my dear little prisoners." He stops between a set of cells, peering into one, and then the other, his eyes always finding those of the prisoner hiding within. "Rogziel, Satqiel, would you like to come with me?" He chuckles when they shake their heads frantically, backing up in their corners, one's toes curling up and the other scrunching his shoulders up as far as they could go. "You don't?" He smiles teasingly. "Shame. I could take you anyway. Torture you until it drives you crazy. Explore all those little spots that I've come to enjoy torturing. Are you sure you don't want to come?" They shake their heads again and he chuckles lightly. "I think I'll come back later and ask again." He moves on, smiling at the sighs of relief he hears come from their direction, the prisoners in the cells he's passed crowd around the bars of their cells, trying to see who he's going to take with him, peering out as much as they can, if only to make sure he didn't turn and come back for them.

They all watch on baited breath as he stops again, turning to look into the cell directly, placing his hands on his hips lightly as he peered in to that prisoner within, and they all press against their bars to try and see who it was he had picked for the first session that day. "I think I'll take you with me first."

"No!"

"Oh, yes, you first. We're going to have some fun together." He steps back, gesturing to the guards at his shoulders, and they step forward to unlock the cell and gather the chosen prison up. They can all hear the struggle as the unlucky prisoner tries to fight off the guards reaching for him, theirs a grunt and a yelp, and the Warden speaks again. "Hey, hey, don't get rowdy with him. Be gentle."

He turns, as the guards drag the unwilling first torture victim of the day out of his cell as he struggles against their hold, and he leads the three of them forward, looking into some of his cells, to some of his prisoners, as he passes them. "You could all be next. No one knows who I'll pick for some torture today."

They all get to see who it is as he passes, putting up as much of a fight as he can, and spare the young sentry a glance of sorrow as he passes them, dragged down the hall a ways, until the guard on his right has enough and turns, tugging the prisoner over his shoulder, as they continue their way down to the room at the end of the hall. That's the torture room, where they're taken when the Warden decides it's their time, and they stay back there for a while, until he's had his fill.

The unlucky prisoner is taken into the room, they can hear the rattle of the straps on the table as they're manipulated, and the guards step out, closing the door behind them, standing at the points in front of the door, not that anyone would _try_ to get in there, the Warden's left inside with the unlucky soul as is usually the way when he comes to share some torture with them.

…

Gadreel struggles against the arm curled around his thin waist as he's carried into the torture room, the pattern in the stone flooring changes when they enter, and he kicks, wiggling desperately, he should have known that he would be chosen first. They set him on the table, the first guard holds him down as the second closes the straps around his ankles, coming up to stand at his other side, they raise his arms above his head, reaching for his shoulders, manifesting his wings into their living plain of existence, and press him back against the table as they close the straps around his wrists, he feels his wings press against the table, a large leather strap stretching over it, hooking into place at the bottom of the table. They nod, sparing their Warden a glance, and step back, turning out the door, closing it behind them as they exit, he knows their just outside the door.

He tugs on his binds as he always does, as the Warden busies himself across from him, he watches him pull the ring of keys from his belt, setting them on the table he stands before, then the whip on his other hip, setting that next to his keys, he turns then, smiling at him that same smile that sends tingles down their spines. He steps forward, up to his feet, and he squirms, twisting his feet from one side to the other, bringing a smile to the Warden's features. "Now that we're comfortable," he reaches forward, curling the fingers of his right hand over his left set of toes, pulling them back slightly. "Let's begin your session."

"Thaddeus!" He stares at the fingers hovering over his toes, the Warden having paused, waiting for him to continue. "Please don't!"

"Oh, begging's never gotten me to stop before, has it?" He touches a finger to his big toe, and stares at him, as he starts to scratch at it lightly. The poor prisoner bites his lip, tugging on his bound foot lightly, shaking his head when the other fingers slowly join in, wiggling lightly on the sensitive skin under his toes. "Oh, you're withholding on me now. Trying to be stubborn, are we? We'll see about that." He turns, letting go of his toes for a moment, and he immediately takes that as his opportunity to curl them up as tight as he can muster, watching with wide eyes as the Warden turns for something on the table. He pulls forward a feather, it's a beautiful feather, long and sleek. "You should all feel special, I took this feather from my own wings, granted it was a mild molting, I decided to save it for you all." He pulls his toes back again, despite his struggles, and he giggles, he can't help himself, as he runs the feather tip over his toes. "Let's see how stubborn you'll be with this, huh?"

Gadreel shakes his head, a smile stretching over his face, as he swipes the feather tip over the skin under his toes, he shrieks softly when he manages to worm the feather between his big and second toe, pulling it back and forth, brushing his toes with the edges of the feather. He kicks his foot again, twisting it from side to side, as much as the restraint would allow, shrieking with laughter as he tortures his toes, threading the feather between each other and rubbing it back and forth, scratching lightly with the quill of the feather over the sensitive skin under his toes. The Warden smiles up at him, kneeling before his right foot, running the pointed quill under his toes. "Not so stubborn now, are you?"

"Hahahahahahhaaeeahahahahahahahahah! Nohohohohohot myhyhyhy tohohohohoehehehhehes! Nohohohohoho hahahhahahahaha nohohohohot thahahahahhahat!"

"Not this?" He scratches the feather's quill over the skin between his fourth and little toe, holding them open for easier access. "Well, I'll have to sit here for a minute then. I'm torturing you after all, I need this to be torturous."

"Hahahahaheaeeahahahahaehehehhehehe! Stoohhohohhop! Stooohohohhhooohoop ihihihihit! Heheheehehheheeheeaaahahhahaha!"

"These toes have always been fun to torture." He carries on for a few moments longer before pulling away from the toes, the younger angel sags against the table, his chest heaving from the force of his laughter. "But there's other places, isn't there?" He stands away from his toes, he still curls them up just to be safe, turning slightly to set the feather back on the table, he walks around the side of the table, trailing his hand up the side, out of sight, and Gadreel jumps around jolting slightly, trying to get his eyes on it, to see where the next possible attack is going to come from. He watches the hand closely when it raises, watching his fingers closely, as they curl around the bottom hem of his tunic. "Let's get this up. I like a bare canvas." He lifts his tunic up, and he shakes his head, as the tunic is lifted up over his face, tucked over his head, he can barely just make out the Warden's outline. Fingers press over his belly lightly, and he stills, sucking in a deep breath. He chuckles softly, wiggling his fingers in gently, and the prisoner bites his lip again. "Now, now, I'll get the feather again." The wiggling grows steadier. "I want to hear some laughter." He shakes his head, under his tunic, and bites his lip harder, having to fight back the giggles even more. "Come on, you stubborn little thing." He claws his fingers in, and that breaks the dam, giggles explode from him, as fingers wiggle in circles over his belly, leaving little untouched. "I know all the right buttons to push in order to get what I want." He kicks his legs as best as he can, shrieking with laughter, shaking his head under his tunic as fingers assault all over his belly.

"Thahahahahhahahaddeheheheheheheus! Thahahahahhaadd! Nohohohohohoho!" He squirms as far to the side as he can manage, trying to escape those fingers. "Pleheheheheheheahahahahhahase! Whyhyhyhyhy!"

"Why?" He wiggles a finger under his belly button and the young prisoner shrieks brightly, sucking in his belly desperately. "Because I wanted to, and I can, and because you're not just my prisoner, you my little brother, and you need some laughter after all that's happened. We both get what we need out of this."

His finger dips into his belly button and Gadreel squeals, arching his back, tugging against his restraints. "Nohohohohoho! Thahahahahahadd! Gehehehhehehet iihihhihiit oohohhohohhuhuhuhut! Ihihihihit tihihihihiickles! Thahahahahhahahahadd! Plehehehehehahahahhahahaease!"

"Begging now, are we?" The finger pulls away from his belly button and he breaths frantically, trying to figure out where he's going next. "Let me give you a reason to beg."

He inhales, wondering where he's going to go next, when he feels fingers sink into the feathers of his wing. They dig in sharply, viciously, and his eyes shoot open, screaming in laughter as fingers assault the sensitive flesh of his wings. He shakes his head frantically, his wing fluttering under the restraint, the need to pull it back eating at him, the fingers are relentless, digging into the meat. They spider under his wing, crawling over the sensitive flesh underneath. "Go ahead, beg me to stop now."

"THAHAHAHAHHAHADD! NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE WIHIHIHINGS! AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAA! GEHEHEHHEHET OOHOHOHOHOFF! GEHEEHEHEHEHET OOHOHOHOHOFF!" Five more fingers join in on the assault and he screams again, howling with laughter, cackling like a mad man. "STOHOHOHOHOHOOP! STOHOHOHOHOP! PLEHEHEHEHHEHEHAAHAHHAHAHSE! MEHEHEHEHEHHERCY! IHIHIHIHIHIT TIIHHIHIHIHICKLES! IHIHIHIIT TIHIHIHICKLESHEHEHEHHES SOHOHO BAHAHAHHAHAD!"

"What am I?"

"WAAHAHHAHAHARDEHEHEHEHEHEN!"

"I know that. What else am I?"

Gadreel tugs at his wing desperately, it quivers under those torturous fingers, howling with laughter as their assault is relentless. "BIHIHIHIHIIG BROHOHOHOHOTEHEHEHEHEHEHER! BIHIHIG BROHOHOHTHEHEHEHER!"

"I'm who's big brother?"

"MIHIHIHIINEEHEHEHEHE! PLEHEHEHHEEHAHAHAHHAAHASE BIHIHIHIG BROOOHHOHHOHOTHER! NOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE WIHIHIHING! NOOHHOHHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHRRHRHEHEHEHEHEHE!"

"And, what does that make you?"

"BAHAHAHAHHAABY BROHOHOHOOHTHEHEHEHEHEER! TIHIHHIHICKLEEEHEHEHEHES! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLEEEEHEHEHEHEHES! AHAHAHAHHAHAHHAEAEAHEHEHEHEHEAHHAAHAHA!"

"That's right." His torturer finally stops his attack, he's breathless when he does, weak from exertion. He feels the leather strap release from over his wings, then from over his wrists, he rubs at his wing desperately, before pulling his tunic back down again, as the older angel undoes the buckles around his ankles. "Come on," his older brother helps him off the table, winding his arm around his shoulders, as they turn for the door across the room, where the Warden's office is. "You can nap on the cot in my office while I play with a few of the others."

"With your cloak?"

He chuckles softly. "Yes, you can nap with my cloak."

The older angel opens the door to his office, helping him inside to the cot on the far wall, Gadreel settles down against the pillow tiredly, smiling slightly when his older brother shakes his cloak out and lays it over him like a blanket. Fingers rub though his messy curls. "Get some sleep, little brother."


	8. Taking Care Of Sass (Thaddeus & Abner)

Abner knows he's gone too far when he freezes, the muscles in his back tense, he comes to a grinding halt. His arm lowers from it's raised position, as he was reaching for a hanger to hang another one of Gadreel's tunic up in the wardrobe, and he turns to look at him.

Thaddeus with his eyes narrowed like that is never a good Thaddeus. That means a storm is about to come. He points at him firmly. "I never forget a prisoner, I remember you well, it was the belly, sides, and armpits with you. Remember the good old days?" He advances slowly, and Abner watches in horror as the gap between them closes, willing his feet to move, but they remain planted to the spot. "Remember how I'd make you _scream_ with laughter?" He's close enough that he snags him by the front of the tunic and drags him forward. "Let's see if I still can."

"Waitwaitwait!" He tries to run interference, tugging desperately at the older angel's wrist, tugging frantically at his fingers. "Okay, okay, I went too far! I can see that! I'm sorry! It won't happen again!"

Thaddeus snags on of his belts out of his and Gadreel's wardrobe and tugs him towards their king-sized bed. "I'm going to flutter my fingers all over those armpits and give that belly as many berries as I can."

"Taddy, Taddy, come on! One time! I went too far _one_ time!" He digs his heels into the carpet under him, it slides with him as he's dragged across the room towards the bed, it offers little to no resistance and he curses it for that. "You're overreacting! Completely overreacting!"

"Oh, you want me to _overreact?"_ He's tugged around, pulled forward, upwards to stand on his tippy toes, as he stares the Warden in the eyes, his eyes wide, Thaddy's eyes firm. "I'll overreact, then." And he shoves him backwards. His knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls over, tumbling back, waving his arms as he falls backwards, bouncing on the mattress.

He stares up at his older brother, willing himself to move, but he just lays there, like a putty waiting to be molded by the older angel's hands, and he silently curses himself for his inability to get his body to work with his mind on the need to escape.

Thaddy looks down at him inquisitively, like a hunter eyeing its prey, and rubs his hands together. "We need to get you out of that tunic, I like a bare canvas, as I'm sure you remember."

He does remember. "You have to force it off me!"

"I can do that, don't worry."

"You don't have your guards to help you!"

"Oh, I don't _need_ my guards to do anything _for_ me." He tosses the belt to rest on the side of the bed and leans forward, digging his fingers into the meat of the younger angel's thighs, Abner shrieks and throws his hands over his head, trying to tug himself away, and the Warden jumps at the chance, yanking his tunic up over his head before he can change positions. "See, I can do it perfectly fine on my own."

"No! _No!_ Not fair!"

"You _annoying_ me all afternoon isn't fair, either." He reaches for the belt and leans over him, securing his wrists in his hand, he loops the belt around his wrists and tightens it, enough that his hands won't slip free, but not enough that it hurts him, he doesn't want to cause actual pain. "Perfect."

"What—What if I catch a cold?" Now he's just grasping at straws and they both know it, judging by the glance the older angel gives him.

The Warden throws his hand out, waving his fingers at the soft burning of the logs in the fire place, and they spring to life, a blaze billowing up, spreading warmth around them immediately. "You were saying."

Abner bites his lip, because he has nothing more to say, and they both know it.

Thaddeus smiles down at him, straddling his waist, and leans forward, looping his bound wrists around his neck, he sits up, repositioning himself, taking the younger angel with him as he does. He rests back against the pillows, his 'prisoner' stretched out between his legs, resting against his chest, arms wound around his neck securely, he's well and truly trapped against him.

"There we go, perfect position, baby brother." He flutters his fingers down the younger angel's bare sides, Abner shrieks and squirms, pressing his face into the side of his neck, shrieking with laughter as his fingers dance up and down his sides relentlessly. "That's right, remember what happens when you sass me?" He reaches up with his right hand and wiggles his fingers into the exposed armpit lightly, Abner squeals and kicks, tugging at his arms desperately, but they don't budge, they're stuck. "This is what you get."

"Thahahahahahhaaddyyyyy! Ahaahahahahahhhahahahahaha! Aahahhaha hahahahhahaha! I'm sohohohorrryyyyy! Aahahahhahahahhahaa! Nohohhhoohoohoo mohhohohohohore!"

"Oh, you better get comfortable," he returns to skittering his fingers up and down his sides, Abner shrieks and squeals, shimmying from side to side, trying to get away from his fingers, but finds himself trapped on both sides. "I'm just getting started."

The young Sentry presses his face to the Warden's neck, squealing with laughter as he kicks his legs out and rocks from side to side, and he only chuckles down at him. "Look at you, we've barely just begun and you're already losing it." He flits his fingers back up to his armpits, both sides this time, and Abner screams softly, throwing his head back as he shrieks and screams with laughter before his head falls back against the side of his neck. " _This_ is why I'm Heaven's best torturer. I barely have to touch you," he wiggles his index fingers into both hollows and the younger angel howls with laughter. "And you break."

He carries on for a few more moments before pulling away, letting the youth catch his breath, and he taps his fingers over his lower back gently. "I didn't kill you right?" He chuckles softly, looking down at him, just catching a glimpse of a reddened face as he presses it back to the side of his neck. "You're chest is heaving might fast there."

"Okay," he starts up again, skittering his fingers up and down his sides once more, and the younger angel screams at the suddenness of it, shrieking with laughter as his squirming and shimmying from side to side starts anew. "Did you miss this as much as I did?" He reaches up to scratch a finger over the side of his neck lightly. "You were one of my favorites, just like our dearest little Gaddy was, I enjoyed torturing you, because you were always so _sassy_."

"Ahahahhahahahahaha hahahahahahahahaahahahhahahaha! Thahahahhahahahaddyyyyy! Hahahahahhaa aahahahahahahahaa! Stohoohoohohohohhop! Nohohohohoho mohohohohore! Ahahahahahhahahhaa ahahahahahhahahaha! I'm sohohohhohoorryyyyy!"

"Are you though?" His fingers return to his armpits and wreak havoc, Abner screams and howls with laughter, shaking his head, pressing his face deeper into the side of his neck, kicking his legs desperately. "Are you really sorry for sassing me?"

"Aahahahahahhaha ahahahahahahahhaa! Yehehheheheheheesssss! YES! Aahahahahahaa hahahahahhaaha!"

"Are you going to sass me again?"

Abner bites his lip and nods frantically. "Yehehehehehehes!"

He laughs softly. "I know you will, it's okay, I'd be worried if you didn't." He stops his attack again and scratches at his back lightly, giving him time to calm down, as he scratches up around his shoulders. Gadreel and Abner were one in the same in that respect. Both liked it when you scratched their backs and shoulders. "I forgive you."

"Thahahhaanks."

Thaddeus smiles, rubbing a hand down the back of his head, and reaches back for the belt tied around his wrists, freeing the latch, he pulls the belt loose and off from around his wrists. Abner lowers his arms limply, letting them rest over his shoulders, and takes a deep calming breath. "Will you keep scratching my back, Taddy?"

"Sure, little ladybug." He renews his scratching. "Sure."


	9. I Can't Take It (Nisroc, Puriel, & Titus)

"I can't _take_ it anymore!" They both look up when he slaps his hands down on the table, they'd noticed how tense he was when he joined them, but neither wanted to say anything until he brought it up, brought up whatever was bothering him, in fear of setting him off. "I can't _take_ it!" He raises his shaking hands, curling them around his mouth, staring into something they can't see, lost in his own thoughts.

Nisroc sets his bowl down, his breakfast complete, and leans back against the counter. "Can't take what, Puri?"

"All of it! Every single bit!" His eyes flash dangerously, his grace rolling just under the surface, and drops his fists down on the table top. "The way they look at me! Like I'm here to serve them at their beck and call! Like I'm some sort of traitor when I refuse to heal their injuries brought on by shear stupidity! I'm not some sort of _servant_! I don't work _for_ them!"

"Okay, Puri," Nisroc raises his hands placatingly, they had been running the medic rampant, nonstop for the last couple of days. "Okay, calm down, little brother."

"I _am_ calm! This is calm!"

"Sure, you are." He steps up behind the medic, rubbing at his shoulders soothingly, and Puriel makes a soft sound of comfort, leaning into the touch. "I think you could use some sleep. You've been working nonstop for all of us these past couple of days."

"Sure!" He throws his hands up. "As soon as I get comfortable, you'll all wake me up because someone _else_ needs me to help them!"

"Not this time, big brother." Titus reaches across the table, curling his fingers around the older Power's fists, squeezing them gently. "We've been using you as a means to an end, and it's wrong, you need to be cared for too."

"Damn right, I do!" He barks at them. "I have needs too!"

"Yes, you do, little brother." Nisroc finds a particular hard knot in his shoulders and works at it, and he groans softly, leaning back into his stomach as he massages the knot free. "It was wrong of us to use you as we have, no more, we'll take of you now, you need some tender care."

"I do, Nis."

"You most certainly do." He taps him on the shoulders. "Come on, up."

He whines softly, nudging him with his elbow. "Don't stop, feels good."

"Come on, Puri, I'll keep rubbing your shoulders, come with me." He steps back, and the medic sways lightly with the sudden removal of the force holding him up but catches himself soon enough. "Lets go lay down in the Lounge, and I'll keep rubbing your shoulders, you're much too tense."

Puriel looks up at him from over his shoulder. "Promise?"

He smiles down at the younger power, patting his head lightly. "I do."

The medic nods, standing from his seat, he follows the oldest Power to the Lounge, his baby brother following close to his side. Nisroc sits down among the pillows, leaning back against them, he pulls the medic down, situated between his legs, he resumes rubbing at his shoulders. Puriel sighs in content leaning back against him heavily, and Titus toes his ankles apart, situating himself between his older brothers legs, leaning back against him just as he leaned back against their oldest brother, and the medic snakes his arms around the younger Power's waist, pulling him closer. He was comfortable and warm, squished between his two brothers, it was nice, this was nice, his two-favorite people. His baby brother and his oldest brother.

"This is nice." He rests his head back against his oldest brother's chest. "I like this."

"Are you comfortable, Puri?" Nisroc's beard rubs against his ear as he leans forward. "Does it make you feel better?"

He nods lightly. "Yea." He settles back completely, falling limp against him. "Yea, it does."

"Good, good," he finds another knot, and the younger Power groans softly, falling limp against him. "Why don't you close your eyes, go ahead, close those eyes."

He nods, closing his eyes lightly, sighing deeply in comfort, he settles in completely. Puriel feels himself drifting, surrounded by his two favorite people, warm between the two of them, holding onto his baby brother and leaning back against his oldest brother, he drifts, falling into a light state, somewhere caught between consciousness and semi consciousness.

"You go on, go to sleep, you just take a long nice nap."

"Mmm….Okay, big brother…."


	10. The Warden's Ire (Thaddeus & Zander)

He's resting back in his desk chair, his arm curled upwards on the armrest, rubbing at his lips with his left index finger, when the knock on his office door alerts the arrival of the guard he'd sent to retrieve the boy in question, and he thought to himself the cause for such an outrageous explosion of the boy's well kept temper.

"Come in."

The door handle twists open, and the guard steps in, guiding the boy in question inside before him, he comes to a stop before his desk, and he hums softly, letting his curled arm stretch out, as he nods to the guard. "Thank Chasper, that'll be all."

His guard nods, leaving the boy where he stands, and turns on his heel to make his leave, closing the door behind him softly, leaving only Warden and boy alone together. Thaddeus taps his finger over the top of his desk as the boy fiddles with his fingers, looking down to his feet, it appears he knows his being called here was not for a pleasure trip, he knew he was in trouble, good, that made his job easier.

"You want to explain yourself to me?"

The boy bites his lip, shaking his head quickly, curling his fingers in the bottom hem of his tunic.

"Zander, look at me."

The boy's head shoots up, his golden eyes staring at him, and he bites his lip.

Thaddeus stares at him in return. "Want to explain to me why I was informed of you spilling the contents of your dinner tray over someone else's head on _purpose_?"

Zander shakes his head, biting his lip harder, and looks back down to his feet.

"Eyes on me, Zander." His head zips back up and their eyes meet once more, the Warden tilts his head, waving a few fingers at him. "You bite your lip any harder and you'll draw blood."

He sighs deeply, closing his eyes lightly as he shakes his head, leaning forward in his seat. "Zander, such behavior is unlike you, what happened?"

Taking a deep breath, Zander fiddles with his fingers, and shuffles his feet. "They were being mean."

"So you thought, what, instead of telling one of the guards you were being bullied, that you'd take matters into your own hands?"

Zander takes a moment, before he nods. "Mhmm."

"Right, well, I will deal with this bullying separately, but first I deal with you."

"D—Deal with me?"

Thaddeus nods, scooting his chair back, he waves the boy forward. "Come on, let's get this over with."

The boy takes a step back, his hands flying backwards to cover his bottom, he knows what that particular hand gesture means. "Thaddy, please, they were being mean!"

"I understand that, Zander, but that does not give you the right to spill the whole contents of your tray over their head, it's a waste of food, a waste of the cooks time, and makes you a bully right along with them, and I won't have bullies in my Prison." He waves him forward again, turning his chair around slightly. "Come on, Zan, the sooner we begin, the sooner we end."

Zander gulps softly. "Will you hold me after?"

"I will, I won't let your feet hit the ground for even a moment."

"Promise not to be too mean?"

"I'm never firmer then I have to be."

Zander nods lightly, he doesn't like it, but the alternative is Thaddy getting out of his chair to come and get him himself, and no one wants Thaddy to get up out of his chair and come get you himself, that means you're in deeper trouble then you already were, and that was no fun, none at all. He steps forward, slowly, but Thaddy is patient, and eventually comes around the edge of the desk.

Thaddeus reaches forward, curling his fingers around the hem of his trousers, pulling the button free, he shimmies his pants down slightly, and turns around more fully.

He pats his right thigh. "Lay on over."

The boy whines softly, but nods, leaning over to drape himself over the older angel's knee. He braces his hands against the stone floor, curling the fingers of his right hand over the front of the Warden's boot, and he waits tensely for what he knows is about to come, bracing himself for it, trying to just focus on what's going to come afterwards, not about what's going to come before then, or how much it's going to hurt, or how red his bottom is going to be, he just tries to focus on what's going to come once they get passed it.

He tenses when he feels a palm press over his left cheek, preparing himself for the first blow, he clenches his eyes closed as he waits, and then the hand pulls back, it takes a moment, there's a moment before it returns, and he yelps, bouncing forward when the hand strikes down again, harshly, he knows it leaves a red hand print over is pale cheek, and he bounces again when the next strike follows, one right after another, and he squirms, crying out softly, he feels warm tears sting his eyes, and then they trail down his cheeks.

"T—Thaddy! I—I'm sorry!"

"I know you are, Zan, I know, and I'm sorry you didn't think you could come to me for help."

There's fifteen swats, and by the end, he's sobbing like a chastised fledgling. He's helped to his feet, and he bounces, rubbing at his bottom lightly, moving his hands for only a moment as the Warden pulls his trousers back in place and buttons them back up.

"There we are, all done, everything's forgiven." He rubs at his eyes pitifully, his chest heaving with another sob, and Thaddeus smiles up at him softly, reaching back out for him. "Come here, come to Thaddy, come here." He pulls him back down into his lap, making sure to position his bottom between his legs, and curls his arms around his waist as he turns back around to face his desk. Zander buries his face in the side of the Warden's neck, and Thaddeus hums softly, rubbing at his back gently. "Shh, shh, it's alright, it wasn't too bad.

He whimpers softly, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. "E—Easy for you t—to say."

"Hey, having to take you guys over my knee isn't as easy for me as you think it is." He rubs at his back soothingly, reaching into his pocket for his hankie, and fishes it out to clean him up a bit. "Especially for the ones I'm rather fond of, and you, I'm particularly fond of you."

Zander giggles softly, a watery shaky giggle, and he rubs at his nose again. "I—I'm particularly f-fond of you too."

"You are?" Thaddeus chuckles softly. "That warms my heart." He leans in, brushing his nose over the young prisoner's cheek, pressing a kiss over the warm damp skin. "Just how fond of me are you?"

"I..I really love you."

"I really love you too, Zan." He leans up to kiss his cheek again. "I'm going to be keeping my eye on you, even after you go, to make sure you stay out of trouble."

"Me, get in trouble?" He giggles again. "I'm a little angel."

"Pun intended?"

He giggles again. "Pun intended."


	11. Words Will Never Hurt You (Sabaoth & Nisroc)

"Sab, you okay?" Osmadiel set his spear to rest on the rack next to the door, Temeluch waiting for them to make their exit so that he could lock up the doors, trade places with his relief, and get some sleep himself. He looked to the older guard with concern shining bright in his eyes. Sabaoth met his gaze, nodding silently, placing his own spear in the rack next to his, and nodded again. "Are you sure, you've been awfully quiet."

"I'm alright," he smiles at the younger guard. "Sorry to have worried you." He scratched at his head lightly as he guided Sorath around with a hand on the small of his back, stepping out of the door, they follow after him languidly, it's been a hard, trying day. "I've just got some things on my mind."

Rahab jumped forward, curling around his right arm, looking up at him with wide worried eyes. "Is it about what _he_ said?"

"No," he shakes his head, quick to assure her worrying, curling his arm around to press her hands to his side. "I've been here long enough to know not to take anything he says to heart."

"It was still hurtful."

He reaches up with his free hand, patting her cheek lightly. "Don't worry your pretty little self over it, I'm really alright."

"Still," she leans up on her toes and kisses his cheek lightly. "You should go see Nis."

Sorath turned to them in question, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, looking between Sabaoth and Rahab. "Why would you go to Nisroc?"

The other guard smiles at him and his confusion, still so new to their group, but learning every day. "Because, no one knows Sab like he does!"

He smiled, ducking his head lightly, taking the steps down to the Axis slowly, his free hand back to the small of Sorath's back, and Rahab hanging off his other arm, Osmadiel brought up the other end, nodding in agreement to their sisters advice. Bringing up the rear, Aeshma and Temeluch were having their own conversation, a quiet conversation that melded with theirs. Sabaoth fell silent after that, listening to Teme call out to Sora, asking him about how his Lego collection was coming along, and the younger guard excitedly share his update, he'd started amassing a collection of Lego creations.

He was very proud of his creations.

The older guard wasn't lying when he said he had a lot on his mind, his thoughts were swirling, despite his assurances in the opposite, the exiled scribe had managed to get under his skin. Nothing too specific, there were no flaws that he went after, no secrets he was keeping, his fledglinghood had been a good one, there was nothing to pick at and exploit. His insults had just managed to get to him that day, get under his skin, and it ruined his mood.

The training field was empty as they made their way across it, training having ended for the day as soon as the sun had began to set.

He stopped at the stairs that lead to the Pavilion above them, their rooms just behind the stairs, to the side, bringing them to a stop with him. Rahab leaned up again, kissing his cheek lightly, and smiled at him brightly. "Go see Nis, he'll help you." He leans forward, to the side, to kiss her on the cheek in return. "I'll be alright." Osmadiel pat his arm lightly as he passed him, walking with Rahab down the hall towards their rooms, continuing their conversation along with them. Temeluch and Aeshma squeezed his shoulders as they passed by on either side, heading for their own rooms, and he looks down to the younger guard at his side. Sorath looks up at him with wide curious eyes and he smiles to him, rubbing a soothing circle against the small of him back, leaning down slightly to brush his chin against his younger brothers forehead lightly.

"I'll come to your room later tonight, we can work on your new creation together, there's something I have to do at the moment."

Sorath nodded. "Okay. I'll wait for you so I don't get too far ahead."

He smiles down at him. "Thank you, little brother, I'll come by in a bit." He guides him forward softly, Sorath smiles at him and steps forward, making his way down the hall for his room.

Sighing, he looks up the stairs, no shadows dance across the hall, leading him to believe that the Lounge is empty. Looking down to his feet, he takes the first step, one at a time, slowly making his way up the stairs to the Pavilion above. Just as he had suspected, the Lounge was indeed empty, though the hall was alive with noise. They were all in their rooms, doing what there was to do in the privacy of one's room, and he crossed the threshold of the Lounge, running his fingers over the wooden table they ate at, and stopped at the entrance to the hall.

Sighing, again, he stepped forward, making his way quietly down the hall. The door that was his destination was sitting ajar, he leaned to the side as he approached, peering into the room. The occupant was relaxing back against the pillows on his bed, reading a book quietly to himself, one of his feet, bare and crossed at the ankle, was shaking lightly as he sat there comfortably.

He hated to disturb his peace, he truly did, but Tus was off somewhere, and there was no one else for him to go to but this one.

So, sighing, once again, he raised his hand, paused before the wooden door, and rapped his knuckle against it.

The foot at the end of the bed stopped shaking, a page rustled as it was turned, the book thumping closed softly as it's set aside, the bed creaks as he moves. "Enter." He presses his fingers against the wooden door at the allowance of his entrance, pushes it open gently, revealing himself to the rooms occupant.

Nisroc smiles to him in greeting. "Sabaoth, what brings you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

The Captain smiles at him again, standing from the edge of his bed, reaching out to caress his cheek. "What's wrong, Saba?"

"Nothing is the matter, can't I just come to see you."

"Sure," he rubs his cheek with a gentle thumb. "I'd believe that, if you weren't looking up at my forehead." He tilts his head back, their eyes officially meeting, and Saba feels bad for lying. "You could never lie to me, Sabaoth, I know your tell." He leans forward slightly. "So, let's try again."

He manages to avert his eyes despite his position. "Today was…It was a _rough_ day."

"I can imagine." The Power nods lightly, scratching his cheek tenderly. "I don't know how you get by spending everyday with that cretin and not lose your mind."

"I'm a very composed individual."

"I know you are," Nisroc rubs his cheek lightly. "I raised you."

Sabaoth sighs deeply, he's been doing that a lot recently. "I almost lost my composure today."

"And, you came to me for help?"

"You know me the best."

"I do." He smiles slightly. "No one knows you quite like I know you." He pats his cheek, pulling his hand back. "What can I do to help?"

"I am on the verge of punching someone and I need your help to change that."

"I see," he nods lightly, uncrossing his arms, he rubs his hands together. "I can most certainly help you with that." His fingers curl around his hips lightly. "Let's simmer that anger in your belly out." His hand shoots out suddenly, fingers curling around the collar of his tunic, and he tugs him forward. "C'mere Saba." Sabaoth yelps as he's tugged forward, stumbling forward, looking down as arms encircle around his waist securely. "Let your big brother help you."

The guard shrieks lightly, pressing his hands to the Power's front, fingers curling into his tunic, when a bearded face buries itself into the side of his neck. He scrunches up under instinct, an involuntary reaction, laughing a light tinkling laugh that echoes around the room. His old guardian growls softly, shaking his head, and he shrieks again, his laughter picking up at the itchy feeling against his neck.

The arms around his lower back tighten around him, he feels like a fledgling again when the Power leans back and manages to lift him from his feet, shaking his head again, smiling into his neck when he shrieks again.

His laughter explodes from him when fingers dig into his lower sides, and he squirms, clutching at his older brother's tunic tightly. They move backwards, well, he moves backwards, Nisroc steps forward, his knees hit the edge of the bed. He knows that the Captain kneels on the bed, he rubs against his thigh as he's set down, fingers race up and down his sides and he shrieks again, arching his back under his old guardian. Nisroc is a warm weight that settles over his lower half, keeping his legs in place, wiggling fingers up and down his sides.

"Let's try a little to the right." He switches one hand over, ten fingers digging into his right side, he squeals brightly, great peals of laughter exploding from him at the torture to his side. "And, of course, we can't forget that sweet spot that is your ribs, can we?" Ten fingers wiggle up the right side of his rib cage, climbing up and down, fingers at his lower ribs and fingers at his higher ribs and he squeals in laughter again. "And then a little to the left." Ten fingers jump over to his left side, he squeals again, turning upwards as much as he can.

He chuckles at him, pulling away from his left side, and fold over his belly. "Hello, my little Saba."

"Hihi!"

Nisroc smiles down at him. "How's that fire in your belly doing?"

"Ihit's slowly sihimmering down!"

"Well, then," he slowly tugs his tunic up to reveal his toned belly. "Let's blow it out."

Sabaoth only has time for his eyes to widen, his plea just making it to his lips, when the Power leans forward, takes a deep breath, and buries his face into his belly. The guard howls with laughter, throwing his head back, pushing weakly at his old guardians shoulders, sucking in his belly as best as he can when he takes another deep breath, finds a new spot, and blows. He arches his back, throwing his head back, his hands move up from pushing at the Captain's shoulders to pushing at his head.

"Nis! NIS!"

He pauses, looking up at him, resting his chin lightly on his quivering belly. "Yes, little guy?"

"Noho mohore! No more!"

"No more?" He rubs his chin into his belly and the guard giggles, high pitched, contagious, and he smiles at the sound of them. "I'm merely trying to blow that fire out."

"It's out! It's ohout!"

"I don't know," he wiggles his fingers into his lower belly, and he shrieks lightly. "Is it?"

"Yehes!"

"One more, though, for old times sake?" He nods once. "One more."

Sabaoth's eyes widen at that remark, and he braces himself against his old guardian, anything to keep him away. He always makes the last one the worst one, the one that makes the most lasting impression, that last one is always the worst one.

"Nohoho!"

"One more." He nods again, taking a deep breath, a deeper breath then before and shakes his head as he buries himself deep into his belly, then he blows, long and hard. He shakes his head and rubs his beard in, takes more deep breaths as he moves around the shaking belly surface, and Sabaoth, he loses it. He screams with laughter, anger and frustration completely forgotten, the words Metatron had taunted him with drowned in the echo of his laughter, the hurt and upset faded away in the beard rubbing against his belly and the small raspberries being blown over every inch. He feels like a fledgling again, his mentor and guardian torturing him, because he was rather torturous, there are very few who can make him feel like a fledgling, his old guardian can manage it with little to no trouble.

Nis always knows how to make him feel better.

"NIS! Nis! Noho mohohore! No more!"

"One more?"

He shakes his head frantically, curling his arms around the Power's neck, hugging himself close. "NO! No!"

Nisroc chuckles, presses a kiss to his belly, and turns them over. He bends one of his legs up, his little guard situated between his legs, laying comfortingly against his stomach. The Power smiles down at him. "Feel better?" Stroking his fingers through his hair, Sabaoth nods, trying to catch his breath. "I feel very much better."

"What are you doing tonight?"

He nods, nuzzling his cheek against the Captain's stomach. "I'm going to help Sora with some of his Lego creations."

"That sounds like a fun time, mind if I join you?"

Sabaoth smiles. "Not at all."


	12. A Few Inches Taller (Sorath, Sabaoth, & Osmadiel)

"I don't like standing here."

Both older guards share an amused glance and look down to the younger guard, Sabaoth tilts his head slightly in fond amusement, meeting the younger guards aggravated eyes. "Why not, Sora?"

"Because I'm so short!" He throws his hands up dramatically. "You guys are like mountains compared to me! I have to look up to talk to you! I'm a midget!"

"You're small, yes," he pats his head gently and the younger angel bats his hand away. "But it's cute."

"I can't even pat your head back when you pat mine!"

Osmadiel and Sabaoth exchange another amused glance before turning back to the shorter guard. "Do you want to be tall for a bit?"

"You can make me taller!"

"Well, no," Sabaoth squats slightly. "But you can ride on my shoulders for a bit, if you want."

"Yes!" Sorath hops forward, pumping his fist in the air, climbing over his older brother's shoulders to sit. The older angel curls his fingers around his ankles, Osmadiel crosses behind them, holding his lower back as the oldest guard stands, ensuring he doesn't fall off as Sabaoth rises to his feet. Sorath giggles excitedly, his fingers curling in his older brother's hair lightly, and he chuckles softly at his excitement. "Happy now?"

"You're so tall! I can see everything!"

Osmadiel smiles at them in amusement, his brother is so taken with the younger guard, its amusing to watch them together. "Aren't your shoulders going to get sore?"

"He's a lightweight. I can handle it for a short while."

"Saba?" Sorath tugs at his hair lightly and he tilts his head up in the sign that he has his attention. "Can we go see Tus?"

"Yes, we can go see Tus."

The stares they get as the walk down the Axis goes ignored, Sabaoth simply pays them no mind and Sorath is still too excited to notice, making their way down the street towards the Training Fields, Titus is training his new squadron and wouldn't mind a visit from his 'little angel'.

Stepping into the Training Field, they go noticed immediately, warriors turning and watching them as they cross the field for their captain. "Tus! Tus!" He turns at the call of his name, smiling at them as they approach, looking up to his young angel riding on his older brother's shoulders. "Hi, Tus!"

"Hello, Sora," he smiles at them both in fond amusement. "What are you doing up there?"

"I'm tall now!"

"You most certainly are."


	13. Remembering The Past (Nisroc & Thaddeus)

He starts awake that night, a whimper on his lips, eyes shooting open suddenly into the dark room around him. His eyes shoot around, trying to take in his surroundings, his mind reeling from what he'd just seen. It had been a week since he started his sessions with the Healer and it was starting to bring about memories, they came in slowly, often times when he was sleeping, as dreams, good and bad, they came to him when he least expected them to. He reaches back, running the tips of his fingers over the raised scars he can reach over his shoulder, what he had seen, what his dream had been about, surely it was one of those false memories the Healer had said the Mindbreaker had implanted in his mind.

He reaches over, pushing lightly at the mound sleeping next to him, pushing a tad harder when he doesn't wake. He hums softly, turning over to peer at him, eyes shining with concern. "Tadpole, what's wrong?"

He scoots closer, unsure on if what he had seen was real or not and fearing the actual answer. "Nis." Thaddeus swallows thickly. "The scars on my back…. Did you really…..Did you really do that?"

Nisroc sits up fully, reaching over for the lamp on the side table, turning it on, it casts a warm light of them in the darkened room. He knew that there was a possibility that this was something he'd come to remember, the Healer had said that everything he'd lived through was something he would remember, with time, and he knew that it was a possibility that this was something that would come up.

"Tadpole," he doesn't know how to broach the subject, he's been avoiding it as much as he could, secretly hoping that it was something he wouldn't come to remember. "Tadpole, I…." Honesty was always best. "I did."

"You…. You whipped me?"

He nods, shame filling his heart, and he scrubs at his face as he looks away. "I did, Tadpole, and no amount of apologizing will ever make up for that."

"How…How could you do that to me?" He scoots away from him on the bed, but doesn't get up, he has no where else to go. "How could you _beat_ me, like that?"

"I was just so _angry_ , Thaddy, what you had done, you had done something that was inexcusable." He didn't want to go too much into detail on the events that led up to that fateful day. "I was blinded by rage. All I could see was making you feel the same that you had made so many others feel."

"I…I hurt people…. I hurt people _bad_?"

Nisroc turns towards him, turning his head to face him with a hand under his chin. "Thaddeus, we all did things to others that were wrong. I beat you. You _did_ hurt others. None of it was your fault, and you most certainly didn't deserve the outcome. That wasn't you," he shakes his head firmly. "You weren't in control of your own actions."

"Is that….Is that why they all look at me like that?"

It breaks his head, but the Power nods. "You did _bad_ things, Tadpole, I won't lie to you. Very _bad_ things."

Thaddeus pulls his chin out of the Power's grip, turning to look down at his lap, biting his lip gently for a moment. "They're all scared of me, aren't they?" He wipes at his eye, catching a tear before it can slip free, the Power sits there, watching him closely. "You said….You said you wanted me to feel what I made them all feel….I hurt them…I _hurt_ them." He rubs at his eyes again. "I deserved it. I deserved the same pain I gave them all. I deserved it."

"You did not."

He nods.

"Tadpole," fingers curl under his chin again, pulling him back around once more, his eyes sparkling in the soft light with unshed tears. "You did not. I was wrong to do what I did to you. I shouldn't have hurt you like that. I was blinded. I should have seen that you weren't acting like yourself anymore, I noticed, but didn't act on it."

"I hurt all those people, Nis," he sniffles softly. "I'm bad. I'm a bad angel."

"No, no," he wipes the tears away tenderly. "You are a very good angel. All of that pain, that wasn't you, I know you. I _know_ how much you cared about them. I know you did. You were so kind to them, Tadpole, you made them laugh even when they thought their laughter was gone. You're a very good angel, Tadpole, so, so good. None of that pain that was caused was you, none of it was you, it was a monster wearing your face. It was someone else, another being all together, but it wasn't you."

"They're scared of me now, Nis," a tear escapes from the corner of his eye. "That's why they don't like being with me. That's why they make those looks to each other. That's why I made Gaddy cry. They're all scared of me, aren't they?"

Nisroc wipes away the tears that manage to fall, giving a sad nod. "I'm sorry, Tadpole." He cursed that woman, as the young angels eyes welled with more tears, until it came too much for them to hold and they spilled over, as he choked on a sob, pressing his hands to his mouth to try and hold them in, and failing, he cursed her for ruining his little Tadpole's life, for breaking him to the point of no return. Thaddeus had loved them all with all his heart and she had turned that into something sick and demented. "I'm so, so sorry, Tadpole." There's nothing he can say to deny the facts, most were petrified of the young Warden, they had forgotten what he had been like before, how much he had cared, all they remembered now was the horror and the pain.

All he can do is pull the young angel into his chest, curl him in his arms, as his sobs break past his hands, bleeding through his fingers, tears trekking down his cheeks like raindrops from a storm cloud. All of this, all of this pain that still lingered, everything that had happened, it all fell on one persons shoulders, and if he wasn't preoccupied with taking care of this volatile angel, he'd hunt her down, orders be damned, and he'd kill her. Torture her to death. For causing his family so much grief. For causing them so much harm.

He pulls the lithe angel closer, up into his lap, as he rests back on the pillows, rubbing his back soothingly as he sobbed himself hoarse, pressed into his chest.

"It'll be okay, Tadpole." He's not sure himself, but he'll make sure of it all the same, he'd fix things. "It's okay." Was it, though?

"Th—They're sc—scared of m—me!" He sobs brokenly against his chest. "I—I hurt th—them a—all!"

"Things will get better again, they will." He'll make sure they do. "Sshhh, ssshhhh, it's okay. I've got you. I'm right here."

"Nihihi—ihihis!"

"It's okay, little Tadpole. It's alright." Nisroc threads his fingers through his curls, rubbing at his head lightly, because he knows how much he likes it. "Hush now, hush little Tadpole, you're going to make yourself sick."

Thaddeus nods into his chest, and he doesn't mind that he's rubbing snot and tears into his tunic, and looks up at him, all pitiful, tear stained cheeks, red swollen eyes. He smiles down at him gently, rubbing his cheek tenderly. "It's going to be okay."

"I—It wi—will be?"

"It will." He nods firmly. "Things will get better again. It's just going to take come time."

"An—And y—you'll st—stay with m—me?"

The Power nods. "I'm not leaving your side for anything short of another war." He reaches over for his nightstand, curling his fingers around the cloth sitting there. "Let's get you cleaned up." He rubs at his cheeks, rubbing the tear tracks away, dabs at his eyes, and holds the hankie under his nose. "Blow, Tadpole." Thaddeus nods, sniffling softly, blowing his nose into the hankie. "Good, angel." Thaddeus smiles slightly. "I—I'm a g—good an—angel?"

"You're a very good angel, do you hear me?" He kisses his forehead softly. "A very good angel."

"I—I'm a g—good an—angel."

"Yes, you are." He sets the cloth back on the bedside table and takes up the glass instead. "Here, take a sip." The young angel nods, curling his lips around the edge of the glass, taking a large sip from it. "Better?"

The young angel nods, curling back against his chest. "M'sleepy now, Nis."

He smiles down to the sleepy little Warden. "Lets go back to sleep, then." He reaches out to turn the light out, and curls his arms back around his little Tadpole, as he settles back down himself.


	14. Sifting Through The Past (Nisroc & Thaddeus)

"Alright, do you know what this box is?"

They're seated on the Power's bed, cross legged, a box sitting between them. The elder pats the sides of the box lightly, the Healer had said to introduce him to things from the past, bringing back the memories of his fledglinghood was proving to be a rather difficult task, even more so then recent memories, they were there, but it was like they were blocked. They couldn't quite reach them, no matter how hard they tried to tap at that wall, they were locked away rather securely.

"Do you know what this is?" So, upon being give that request, he took the liberty of digging some things out of their storage, a box full of trinkets and the like, that had been set away since the day the younger angel had become Warden, set aside, but never forgotten. Until they had been.

The younger angel shakes his head. "No, is it important, Nis?"

He nods lightly. "Very important. It's all yours."

The young angel looks down in wonder, taking in the contents of the box, and it both breaks and warms his heart at the same time. "All mine?"

"All yours." He reaches into the box, pulling out a large plastic item. "Do you remember this?"

Thaddeus shakes his head, staring at it in wonder. "No. What is it?"

"It's your airplane. It was your favorite toy as a fledgling." He smiles slightly. "You rode up on my shoulders, holding it high above your head, making little noises of flight under your breath."

The young Warden stares at it a moment longer, before looking up at the Power, reaching out with both hands. "Can I, can I touch it?"

"Of course, you can." He holds the airplane out to him, and he takes it carefully, running his fingers over the top of the plane, over the wings, and he smiles to himself, something flashing before his eyes. "I remember something!"

Nisroc smiles gently. "What do you remember?"

"I remember you taking me flying. Before I got my own wings. And I'd bring my plane with me. You held onto it too, so I didn't drop it."

"I did." The Captain chuckles softly. "You loved it when I'd take you flying." He reaches back into the box, pulling out a blanket, different hues of blue, little wave patterns sewn into the fabric. "This is your blanket. You were wrapped up in it the day you were given to me, just a little thing, little tufts of curls and a pale little face peeking out from under the blanket, you had the biggest smile, your eyes were so bright. You loved this blanket, you'd throw an absolute fit if you didn't have it for naptime or bedtime, and you'd leave it everywhere. I can't tell you the number of times you sent me off to search for it because you'd left it somewhere and forgot where." He passes the blanket to the young angel, watching as he sets his airplane aside, and pulls the blanket close, first hugging it to his chest, and then pressing it to his face, rubbing his cheek against it.

"I remember this!"

"You do?"

"I do! I love my blanket! You used to tie it around my neck, when you were wearing your cape, and say it was my own cape and we'd go walking around the training field together."

"We did, you'd walk with me a few paces, but always ended up on my shoulders." He reaches back into the box, pulling out a long feather, its slim and full, sleek, nearly as long as his forearm, silver and white. "Do you remember this?"

Thaddeus nods slowly, eyeing the feather carefully. "It's….It's one of yours….One of your flight feathers…..You gave it to me…..When I had my first molt….Because…."

"Because?" He nods, brushing his finger down the ridge of the feather. "You know this. I know you do."

"Because…..I was sad….I was really sad…..I thought all my feathers were falling out and my wings were going to be bald…And you gave me the feather….You said that your feather would grow back like mine would…And we watched it as it did…It took weeks…But they grew back in…..And I kept the feather because you gave it to me."

"You did," he eyes the feather with a smile. "You slept with it for the first week, carrying it around in your little hand for the entire week, checking your wings to see the progress your little feathers were making in coming back in." He looks back up to the younger angel, smiling mischievously, and something stirs in his belly at the sight of that smile. "Remember what else I did with this feather?"

Thaddeus shakes his head lightly, he doesn't remember that, but he wants to. "What did you do?"

"I could make you scream with laughter with this single feather."

He tilts his head. "How?"

"How?" A saddened look crosses the elder's features, and he immediately feels bad for putting it there, but it disappears soon enough. "You were quite a ticklish little thing."

"I was?"

The Power smiles softly. "You were, oh, I get you howling with laughter. And, from what I heard, your turned did the same with your Prisoners. You made sure they never forgot how to laugh, even being locked in that dreary place."

"I wasn't didn't always hurt them?"

Nisroc shakes his head. "No, you didn't, you had originally taken very good care of them. You never took a charge of your own, but you treated your Prisoners like they were, you made sure they bathed like they should, you made sure they were well fed, you didn't let anyone get to rough with them. You would let the ones who got too saddened at their being there come stay with you for the night. You took excellent care of them. Even the ones who weren't as docile as most of the others, the ones that were there for violent tendencies, they respected you too much to disrespect you to your face. You were kind, but you had a temper, I feel as though they were too cautious to bring that temper down on them. You were quite firm when it came to them disrespecting you."

"I..Did I hurt them?"

"No, no, you didn't hurt them. Not in the way you're thinking. Have no worries. They learned quick though, and you took great care of them after, they all loved you." He rubs at his beard lightly. "You rehabilitated quite a number of angels, they'd come stay with you for a bit and you'd care for them in the way you cared for all your patients, and they'd get out, not coming back if only to visit you."

"I helped them?"

The younger angel smiles when he nods. "You did, you've turned a good number of angels back on the right path. You treated them all with the care a guardian does, most came from distasteful guardians, raised to be a certain way, but you curtailed that rather quickly."

"How?"

"Well," he scratches at his beard. "From what I've heard, you used to take the new Prisoners back into your office, you'd keep them there for some time, I don't have the faintest idea what actually happened in there, but I have a few ideas, they'd always come out teary eyed and rather meek, some rubbing at their rear ends, and you'd show them to their cell, sending them to bed early, without any supper for the first night. Though you cared for the angels under your watch, you didn't like seeing them come back in the same manner, you only minded when they came to visit with the ability to leave freely after."

"And they liked me?"

"Oh, they adored you, Thaddy. They all waited for you to come visit them for the day. You'd give them a good torture and let them nap in your office after."

Thaddeus reaches forward to set his airplane back in the box, curling his blanket in his arms securely, he sat back against the pillows, he liked hearing about how he was before, before he hurt people, and they became scared of him. Before he became bad and stopped remembering.

"Was it bad torture? Is there a good torture? You said I wasn't always bad. Isn't all torture bad?"

Nisroc shakes his head lightly, smiling back down to the feather. "No, not all torture is bad. There's tickle tortures, those are good, it can be fun. You used to tickle torture your Prisoners for a good time, until they were screaming with laughter and begging breathlessly for mercy, you made sure they all remembered how to laugh in that dreary place, and then you'd take them to nap in your office for a short while before finding another victim to play with."

"Did I…Did I torture Gadreel like that?"

"Oh, yes," he chuckles softly. "Little Gad was your favorite victim. You two had been very close, you took him being there very seriously, and made sure he didn't focus on the endless length of time he was sentenced to, you treated him so kindly, so gentle, you'd let him out to follow you around as you made your rounds, you gave him an extra pillow and extra blankets, you fretted to the Healer when he stopped eating for a short while, for a while there, you two ate together, if only for you to make sure he ate his entire meal." He shakes his head fondly. "Oh, you'd torture him frequently, it was always his toes. You enjoyed torturing his toes. And his wings. Oh, you'd get him screaming with laughter in no time. You knew all the right buttons to push."

"Could I…. Could I still do that to him?"

"I'm sure you could, in some time, it could most certainly help heal the rift between you two. He loved you like nothing else, and I know he still does, he's just guarded his heart a bit more then before. I'm sure if Tus and I were there he'd be a bit more comfortable with you being near to him."

"Can we… Can we do that some time?"

Nisroc smiles, nodding lightly. "I'm sure we could set up some time with Tus and him. I'll have to ask."

"Thank you, Nis."

"Always, Tadpole."

Thaddeus blushes softly. "Can you show me?"

He tilts his head. "Show you what?"

"What you did with the feather?"

"Oh, Tadpole," Nisroc smiles at him, that same mischievous smile. "I was hoping that you would ask me that." He lifts the box off the bed and sets it on the floor beside them, crawling closer to him, Thaddeus smiles in excitement, stretching his legs out when fingers tug at his ankles, laying back against the pillows as the large Power came to lay over him. He tugs his tunic upwards. "You used to pull their tunics up over their head, blocking them from seeing what you were doing," he pulls the tunic up over his head, tossing it to the side as he pulls it off completely. "But I like to see _my_ victims." He comes to rest over top of him, looming over him on his shoulders, smiling as he twirls the feather between his fingers. "Lets start up here, you were ticklish just about everywhere, let's see if that still rings true."

Thaddeus watches him with wide eyes as he leans over, curling his fingers around his shoulder, and he knows its to keep it from scrunching up, and he inhales sharply at the light touch of the tip of the feather rubbing over the side of his neck. He begins to giggle softly, when the feather twirls down to his ear, stroking up behind it. "You're neck has never been very fun, good for some giggling, but that's it." He curls the feather in his fingers, reaching down for his left wrist. His other arm curls under his head as he wings his arm up, those fingers curling around his wrist, to keep his arm trapped above his head. "I want some real, rich laughter." He tries to look over, but his view is blocked by the Power's shoulder. He shrieks softly when the quill of the feather presses into his armpit, stretching his fingers out as it sits there teasingly. "This has always been a good spot." The quill moves, tracing lightly over his underarm, and he shrieks again, a bit brighter this time, soft laughter slipping from him, as letters are traced over his armpit.

"T." He shrieks, tugging at his wrist."

"A." Nisroc sounds entertained as he tortures him.

"D." The younger angel shrieks with laughter.

"P." "Hahahahahahahah! Nihihihihihis!"

"O." The Power pulls the feather away and wiggles a finger into the hollow of his armpit, and he shrieks brightly, tugging on his arm as he shrieks with laughter.

"L." "Eheheheheheheheaaahahahahhahhahaha! Stohohohhop! Hahahahahheaeahahahahah!"

"E." He presses his cheek against the Powers upper arm, laughing brightly at the playful torture, fingers brushing over the back of the Power's hand as he tries to free his own fruitlessly. He feels the Power move slightly, he soon realizes that he's setting the feather down, as he flutters five fingers over his armpit. He shrieks in laughter, shaking his head frantically, the younger angel presses his cheek to the older angel's upper arm firmly, twisting his wrist around as much as he can in its captive state. "Eeehehahahahhahahahahhaaeeheheahahahaha! Nohohohohoh! Nihihihihihis! Nohohhhohohot thahahahahhahaat! Nohohohohohot thohohohohooaaohahhahahaahoose!"

"Do you remember what these are called?" He nods quickly against the Power's upper arm. "What are they called, Tadpole?"

"Fluhuhuhuhuahahahahhauutters! Fluhuhuhuahahahahhahuutters! Hahahahahahahahaha!"

"That's right." He stills for a moment, his fingers posed over his armpit, he can feel them. "What are they called?"

He shakes his head, and the Power chuckles, turning to look at him as he does. "Say it," he flutters his fingers a bit and he shrieks with laughter, pressing his head back against the pillows. "Fluhuhuhuhuahahahahahuutters!" His fingers still again, and he watches him closely. "What are they called, again?"

Thaddeus giggles in anticipation. "Flutters?"

"Okay." He flutters his fingers again and the young angel throws his head back, shrieking with laughter, cackling brightly as the Power tortures his armpit. "I'll give you some flutters." He remembers these. He used to give these. It drove them all nuts.

"Nohohohohoho! Nihihihihiis! Nohohohohoooahahahhahaha fluhuhuhuhuhutters!"

"Aww, but I like flutters." He itches the tip of the quill into the hollow of his armpit and he squeals brightly, shaking his head desperately, tugging at his arm. "But okay, since you're so special to me."

The young Warden breaths deeply, chest heaving, as the Power pulls away from his armpit, sliding down over top of him, until his chest lays over his waist and he looms directly over his belly. He takes the feather, and sets the tip into his belly button, resting it there gently. "This, this has always been a special spot." He looks up at the younger angel under him, Thaddeus's eyes shine brightly, a smile resting over his features as he watches him, like he had been all that time ago, fun to play with and mess about with, a good sport, always up for a good time. "Do you know why this is a special spot?" He shakes his head lightly. "Because, this has always been the best for your sweet, sweet laughter." He flicks the feather gently and the young angel shrieks brightly. "This is my little giggle button."

He twists the feather around, between his fingers, and the young Warden squeals brightly. "Eeeieiiahahahahahhahahaha! Aahahahahahahahahahha! Nohohhhohohooohot theeheheheheherrehehehe! Nohohohohoot thahahahahhat!"

"Oh, you think this feather is bad, do you?"

Thaddeus nods his head frantically. "Tihihihihihickles! Tihihihihiiaiahahahahahhahaahickles!"

"This, is so much worse."

His eyes widen when he pulls the feather away, takes a deep breath, and buries his face into his belly, over his belly button. "EEIEIIAHAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAA! NOHOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!"

"I told you this was worse, didn't I?"

"EEIEIIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! YEHEEHHAHEHEHAHAHAHAHHEES! NOHOHOHOHOAHHAHAOHAOO! EEEIIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHIIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I told you, didn't I?" He hovers just above his belly button. "This is my little giggle button."

"EEIEEIIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! NIHHIHIHIAHIAIAHAHAHAHHIIISSSS! EEIEIIAHAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOOT THAHAHAAHHAAHAT! EEIEIEIAIHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!" He shakes his head frantically, pushing against the Power's head desperately, kicking his feet, drilling his heels into the bed under him. "NAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA! EEIEIAIAIHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! NOHHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!"

Nisroc smiles, looking up at him fondly. "Had enough of me showing you?"

The young Warden nods his head frantically, giggling softly still, and the Power chuckles, crawling off his legs, coming to stretch out at his side, laughing softly as the young angel curls up on himself, pressing his face into his side. "Do you remember now?"

Thaddeus nods. "I rehehehemember! We played like that all the time!"

"We did," he nods lightly. "Especially during bath time. Someone," he rubs his fingers through the young angel's curls lightly. "Liked making bath time rather difficult."

"I used to play with Gaddy like that too!"

"You did." He nods lightly. "You used to torture that poor boy. But he fought back rather well."

Thaddeus smiles, rubbing his nose into the Powers side, climbing up to lay under his arm. "Nis, can I have a snack?"

"Of course, Tadpole, what does your belly desire?"

"Apples and peanut butter!"


	15. The Warden's Return (Thaddeus & The Guards)

"Alright, you'll stay with them for the day, you know your way around so I'll save you the tour, if it becomes too much you know where to find me, alright?" Thaddeus nods, staring at the door, unguarded, to the Prison, it had been some time since he'd stepped foot in this place, stepped foot inside and remembered stepping foot inside. "Thaddy?" He turns to the Power, nodding slightly. "Okay, Nis."

"Good angel." The Power pats his cheek. "I made sure to inform the others of the…. circumstances… beforehand so things should be different from how they were when you last say them."

"Thanks, Nis."

"Always, Tadpole."

He leaves him there, after he assures him that everything's okay and he can go back to his duties, Nisroc seems unsure but trusts him when he says he's okay. Silently, he steps forward, curling the fingers of his right hand around the metal door handle, and pulls the door open. He's been making great progress with regaining his memories, he remembers most of his time as Warden, before everything became fuzzy, and he hopes they remember him too, for how he used to be, before everything changed. He pulls the door open, immediately greeted by the two guards of the front entrance, huddled together and whispering, they turn at the sudden intrusion, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Thad….Is it true?" Aeshma steps forward, he remembers her, she always greeted him with a smile when he came down to make his rounds at the front. Temeluch sips at a glass of water but watches with apt attention. "Did she really….Do that?"

He nods, cringing lightly, he knows it happened, Nis and the Powers knows it happened, and they know it happened, but it's still hard to talk about. "It did."

"And…And you're back?" She steps closer. " _Really_ back?"

"I'm back." He nods again. "I'm sorry, I didn't know I left." He huffs, at her sudden impact, and he looks down at she presses herself close to him, arms wound tightly around his middle as she presses her ear to his chest. "I'm happy you're back, Thaddy, happy that your _you_ again." She presses herself closer, squeezing tighter, and he smiles, wrapping his arms around her in turn, resting his chin over her head. "I'm happy to be back. I've missed you all."

"The others feel really bad about what they did, they didn't know," she looks up at him. "We didn't know."

"Hey, no fretting." He pets the back of her head. "I didn't even know."

"Promise not to go away again?"

He hugs her tighter, pulling her closer. "I promise."

She smiles, hugging herself closer for a moment longer, and finally pulls away. Thaddeus lets her pull back, cradling her cheeks in his hands, and smiles down at her softly. "I missed you Aesh."

"We missed you too, Thaddy." She reaches up to curl her fingers around his. "Saba feels real bad for what he did, you have to make him feel better again."

The young Warden rubs her cheeks with his thumbs. "I will, I promise."

She smiles up at him and steps to the side, heading for the door, to take up her place on the outside. He watches her go with a smile, turning back towards the hall, Temeluch smiles at him from over the rim of his glass of water, and he returns the smile, stepping forward, rubbing his fingers through the tall guards locks. "Hi, Teme."

"Hey, boss."

"Ah, not the boss around here anymore."

"Sure, once the boss, always the boss." He pulls his glass down away from his face. "I missed you, boss."

"I missed you too, Teme."

"Are you here to stay, boss?"

"I'm always here for you all."

Temeluch took another sip of his water. "I'm happy you're back, boss." He nods towards the hall. "Go, cheer Saba up again, seeing him so down is depressing."

"I'll make sure to see to him."

"Good." Temeluch takes his final sip and sets his glass down on the small table aligned against the wall. "I'll get back to my post, boss, please don't punish me for being tardy."

Thaddeus smiles slightly, shaking his head in amusement. "See that you do and I'll think about it." The door guard snorts softly, shirking away when he manages to poke him in the side, smiling in amusement when the young guard snorts again and jumps forward, away from his reach.

He continues down the hall, towards where he knows the two high profile Prisoners are, where the other guards would be. He doesn't get very far until he's attacked from the front, someone jumps on him, hugging him tightly around the neck. Laughing softly, he wraps his arms around the lithe form, she giggles and presses her cheek to his.

"Hi, Ra."

"Thaddy! We're so sorry!"

"Well, it's not alright." He kisses her cheek lightly and presses his back against hers. "But, I understand."

"We hurt you! Are you okay? Do you have any bruises still? I'm so happy you're back! I missed you so much! It was so scary when you just changed! It was like you didn't even remember us! And then…And then—"

"Hey, calm down, take a breath." The young Warden leans back, pressing his forehead against hers. "Yes, you did. Yes, I'm fine. No, there aren't any more bruises. I'm happy to be back. I missed you too fairy princess, I truly didn't remember how close you all were to me, I didn't really remember myself." He rubs his nose against hers lightly. "Don't even think about it, I'm back, I'm not leaving again, that's all that matters, right?"

"Right!" The fiery little guard kisses his cheek lightly. "That's all that matters!" Rahab smiles down at him. "And, you're back to your normal self, right?" She stares him deeply in the eyes. "You're not still… _that_ way?"

"I'm not. I'm back to my old self. The one that left you all different types of snacks and made sure you remembered to stay lighthearted. The one that always catches you when you jump up on me."

She smiles brightly. "I'm really happy you're back, Thaddy, I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, fairy girl."

Rahab giggles softly and spies the older guard from over her shoulder. "Will you make Saba feel better, Thaddy?" She turns back to him. "Seeing him sad makes me sad too."

"I'd be happy to," he bounces her lightly. "I'm going to have to set you down first, in order for me to do so."

"Oh," she giggles softly and drops down from his arms. "Right."

Chuckling, he pats the side of her head softly, watching her bounce back to her stool in front of Osmadiel. He nods to the sleep loving guard, and he waves a few fingers at him, leaning back against the corner, his eyes half lidded, arms crossed loosely. "Hey, Os, getting enough sleep at night?"

"Never."

"Still napping on the job?"

"Always."

Thaddeus chuckles softly, nodding. "Very good."

He turns to the one he doesn't recognize, tilting his head slightly, he smiles at him warmly. The little guard shrinks back, scooting back into the older guard behind him. "Hello, I don't think I've met you yet."

The little thing looks up to Sabaoth for guidance, and he smiles down at him fondly, nodding lightly in approval. He turns back around, facing the Warden bravely, but he can still see the nervous light in his eyes. "I'm Sorath."

"Hello, Sorath," he waves kindly, smiling at him softly, he's a cute little angel. "I'm Thaddeus, you can call me Thaddy if you'd like."

Sorath smiles up at him shyly and, damnit, he does _not_ think it's adorable. He does. This little guard is adorable.

He turns his attention to the guard behind him. Sabaoth stills when he notices the attention directed at him, and averts his eyes, glancing to the side.

Thaddeus crosses his arms. "I thought I already told you to let it go." A beat of silence. "I could give you a bit more convincing."

"I think I'm good."

"If you're sure."

"I'm pretty sure."


	16. No Room For Guilt (Thaddeus & Sabaoth)

"Thaddy, I need you to do me a favor."

The young Warden looks up from the book he was reading, eyes meeting those of the new Warden, and nods in a sign to allow him to continue. Nisroc smiles at him, leaning against the doorframe to his room, arms crossed loosely.

"What can I do for you?"

Nisroc smiles, tapping his fingers over his arm. "I need you to see to Saba."

"See to Saba?" He slowly lowers his book, eyebrows meeting in concern. "What's wrong with Saba?"

"Well, seeing as you're returning to the Prison tomorrow, I told them of the….situation…..and he didn't take it well."

"Is he okay?"

The Power sighs softly. "He's drowning in guilt for what he allowed to happen to you."

"There's no reason to be guilty." He sets his book aside. "There was no way for him to know." He stands from where he's sitting. "I'm not upset at him for it."

"He knows. I told him as such. But it's eating him up on the inside." Nisroc tilts his head slightly. "Do you think you could help him?"

Thaddeus cracks his fingers lightly. "I think I can help."

Nisroc nods, stepping to the side slightly as the young Warden steps passed him, watching him make his way down the hall towards the Lounge, and shakes his head softly. He'll take care of him alright.

Thaddeus makes his way through the Lounge and down the stairs, to the right, and down the hall of the guards rooms. Temeluch and Aeshma's door is closed, they're both sound asleep by this time, they'd always been early to bed, not morning people, those two. Osmadiel's door is cracked, but he can hear the soft snores from inside, he's sound asleep as well, definitely not a morning person. He passes Sorath's room, peering inside carefully through the crack in the door, the candle on his bedside table is flickering away, casting a soft warm glow over the room, and he's sound asleep curled around his stuffed dolphin. Shaking his head fondly, he's fond of that new little guard, he continues on his way down the hall, for all his time being one of his guards, Saba's room has never moved. His door is cracked, and even from his place in the hall, he can hear the soft patting of feet walking over the stone floor, he's pacing, Sabaoth always paces when he's flustered. He pads down the hall to the cracked door of his target, curls his fingers around the edge of the door, and pushes it open silently.

Sabaoth is pacing, just as he knew he would be, and he watches him for a moment as he does, muttering to himself angrily, his head bowed, pacing back and forth across the length of the room.

Crossing his arms lightly, he decides its time to make his presence known, and calls out softly. "You're going to wear a path in the floor if you keep this up."

The guard spins around, eyes wide in surprise at having been caught, and his face burns red in embarrassment when he sees who's standing there. "Thadd."

"You never used to call me that. You called me something else." He tilts his head slightly. "What was it you called me?"

Sabaoth rubs at the back of his neck meekly, averting his eyes to his bare feet under him. "Big brother."

"That's right." He nods, tapping the fingers of his left hand over his right arm. "I heard you were _conflicted_."

"I'm sorry, Thad—" _"Ahmm."_ "Big brother, I'm so sorry, had I known what happened I wouldn't have let them do that."

"You shouldn't have let them do that, period. You know better." He pushes away from the door frame, arms still crossed. "But I'm not upset at you. I understand. It's okay."

"It's not, you're right, I shouldn't have let that happen. I was wrong. I betrayed you and your rules, I betrayed your trust, I betrayed everything you taught me, I—"

"I get it. It's okay." He steps forward, reaching out to grab the guard's shoulders, to keep him from continuing his pacing. "I wouldn't have known any of that anyway. For a while there, I didn't even remember who you were. So, I can't be mad at you. Not that I would have wanted to had I known." His hands glide up to cradle his cheeks softly. "So, calm down, take a deep breath, it's alright."

Sabaoth shakes his head, staring up into his brothers eyes. "It's not. It's not alright. I let them—"

"Hey, _hey,_ " he shakes his head, curling his right hand around his mouth, Saba goes cross eyed as he stares down at it. "If I say it is, then it is, and I'm telling you it's okay." He leans forward. "Understand?"

He nods silently and the hand moves away from his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Saba."

"I understand."

"Good." He tilts his head forward slightly. "So, you need to let it go, alright?"

The guard averts his eyes. "Okay."

"You refusing to look my in the eyes does not show me that you're letting it go."

He sighs. "I can't big brother. I just can't. I let them hurt you and it wasn't you who did any of the wrong doings. Not really."

Thaddeus sighs deeply, letting his hands drop from his younger brothers cheeks, and reaches forward to poke him in the belly sharply. Sabaoth yelps, backing away from him at the sudden assault, jolting when there's another sharp poke to his belly. His older brother follows him as he retreats, poking him in the belly with his fingers. "Have you let it go yet?"

"I ca— _Hey!"_ He receives another sharp poke to the belly. "I want to hear you say you've let it go."

"Bu— _Eep!_ "

"That's not what I want to hear."

"Tha— _Wait!"_

"That's _not_ what I want to hear."

They back up together, one retreating and the other advancing, until the guard hits the edge of the bed and he tumbles backwards. The Warden follows him, poking him in the belly still, a bit more rapidly then before, and Sabaoth smiles, nearly silent giggles starting to sound from him, and he fumbles with his hands, swatting at the fingers poking into his belly.

Thaddeus is undeterred though, poking him still, digging his fingers in intermittently. "Tell me you've let it go."

"I cahahahaaahahan't!"

"If you don't, I'm really going to dig in, and I remember just how sensitive this belly is."

Sabaoth's eyes widen, and he shakes his head. "Plehehehehease nohohoho!"

"Then, say you'll let it go."

The guard finally manages to catch the fingers assaulting his belly. "I lehehehhet iihihihit gohhohoho!"

"Good." He falls down, flopping down beside him, tugging him closer. "We're spending the night together, because I missed you, and we need to catch up."

"I missed you, big brother."

"I missed you too." The older angel strokes his hair back, as the younger sidles up close to his side, resting against him lightly. "You've been the big brother yourself for so long, you've missed out on having one for yourself to turn to, you have one now, I'm back, I'm not going away again."

"I had Nis."

"Ah, but he doesn't count." Thaddeus rubs at his head lightly, scratching behind his ear gently. "He's more of the father figure in this relationship. That makes me the big brother and you the younger."

"I'm glad you are my big brother." He curls closer, looking down at he curls his fingers into the older angel's tunic. "I missed you."

He smiles, brushing his lips over the younger angel's temple. "I heard you've abused your role as big brother on some occasions. Now that I'm back, I can ensure you remain in check."

Sabaoth smiles slightly, tilting his head, to look up at his older brother. Thaddeus smiles down at him in turn. "You abused your role as older brother all the time."

"Ah, but I'm allowed, you, you are not."

"What?" His mouth hangs ajar slightly. "Why aren't I allowed, but you are?"

Thaddeus smiles down at him. "Because, I said so."

"That's not fair, Thaddy!"

"Unfortunately, baby brother, life is not fair."

The guard smiles softly, looking back down to his fingers. "I don't mind. I'm just happy you're back."

"I'm happy to be back." He rests his cheek against his little brother's head. "I've missed so much, and I didn't even know."

"But, you're back now, and that's all that matters."

"You're right. That is all that matters."


	17. Lost And Found (Nisroc, Titus, Qaspiel, & Sablo)

It was like déjà vu, it was happening all over again, thus far this was two little elects whom had been taken from them on a mission that wasn't supposed to involve anything too gritty, a few guards had come with them, recon, that's all it was, and then it had hit them, the attack hiding behind the scenes. They fought valiantly, being sure to stay as close to one another as they could, they were less likely to be easily defeated if they had someone to cover them when they fell back, but they were pulled apart, separated from each other.

He lost track of the little elect and guard in the movement of the crowd and the swinging of swords, and the battle at hand didn't stop him from searching them out as best as he could, but they were lost, gone from sight, having disappeared from right before their very eyes.

When the enemy finally retreated, they came back together, doing a roll call of each other and checking for any injuries that would need to be tended to, and it was then when they realized they were missing two of their own.

Titus was beyond himself, fretting a mile per minute over his missing guard, he'd brought the young guard along to see the Earth after their recon was completed. He'd just graduated into his ranks and it was supposed to be a surprise adventure for such an occasion. He searched the clearing thoroughly, his fingers curling in his hair when he didn't turn up anywhere, behind any of the trees or under any of the bushes, he was just gone.

Nisroc felt a sense of déjà vu at this turn of similar events, Sable wasn't the first of his little elects to be taken from him, the first was searching frantically for his guard, and he couldn't help but look over to him, watching him search desperately, cringing at the way his pulls at his hair when nothing turns up.

He turns to his Captain. "Nisroc, I can't find them!" Especially his guard, Titus adored his guards, they meant the world to him. He raised a placating hand, though it did little to calm the buzzing nerves around them, Titus hadn't even properly met their little elect yet, and they were going through the same thing they had gone through when he himself was taken. "We'll find him, Tus, we'll bring them home." He nodded in assurance, for himself and the others, and spared them each a momentary glance, this was not the first occasion of living through this for a few of them. "First, we must tell our Commander and then we organize a search."

…

Michael had been beside himself at learning another one of his young Elects had been taken out from under him, on a mission that had supposed to last a little over an hour and then they returned, adding on the new young guard, barely older then Sorath was, was adding salt to the wound. He was furious, putting together a search party immediately, and dispatching them out under the orders to return any findings to him personally.

It didn't take them long, as it hadn't taken them long to find the first Elect taken from them, just a little over a month, and they stormed the old abandoned factory just days after their finding it with all their force, leaving no survivors in their wake.

Michael left one, just a young thing, to return to its master and give them all the message as to what happened to those that took what belonged to him and thought they could do what they pleased with them.

Nisroc and Titus split off from the rest of them, making their way down a side hall fluidly, hardly caught up in the oncoming vermin that attempted to steer them away from the locked door at the end of the hall, it was only when the Captain decapitated one of them that they retreated, he wasn't amused, he wasn't enjoying the skirmish, he meant business, and would cut down _anything_ that kept him from his little Elect. Titus stood slightly behind him, at his shoulder, watching as the others scurried away in terror at the fuming Power.

He made his way forward, stepping over the bodies littering the hall, the toe of his boot tapped the rolling head as he passed by, the other right on his heel, he raised his sword slightly, bringing it down over the chain locking the door closed, and it snapped, his sword going through the metal like a hot knife through butter. The chain rattled as it slipped from the long door handle and clattered to the cement floor under them.

Pushing the door open, the light from the hall flooded into the dark storage closet, turned dungeon chamber. There was a small hole, a perfect circle, perhaps for a vent or hose, cut into the far wall. Lowering his sword, as it was hard to see in the small dark room and he didn't want to knick anyone who didn't deserve it, he stepped forward cautiously, reaching out with his free hand, waving it slowly from side to side, feeling for anything in the dark room. "Sab, Sab are you in here?"

It was a redundant question. There was little reason else as to why they would be so against them reaching this room.

No response came to his call, not that he expected one, Titus hadn't responded verbally, other then yelling and screaming, when he'd first found him, he'd reached out physically.

His grace prickled in anticipation for the condition they'd find the younger angels in, he hoped for the best, but was preparing for the worst. Always prepare for the worst in these situations.

"Nis," Titus steps forward, touching a hand to his arm, and he looks up, following his outstretched arm to focus on what he was pointing at. He narrowed his eyes, it was faint, but it was glowing. It pulsed, like that of a heartbeat, against the dark backdrop. One, light blue, light, light blue, almost silver, he couldn't make them out clearly, but they were swirls, sigils even, and he knew what the pulsing light was after a moment of sifting through memories, his eyes immediately trailed to his brother's neck, to the scars that lay under his raised collar, and then turned back to the figure just a few paces before him. He knew the one who had that color of grace.

Titus recognized the amber, and they stepped forward slowly, making sure their boot steps echoed in the small room. "Sab, Sab it's me, it's Nis and Tus." There was a faint rustling of torn clothes, and the light from the hall came over a pale beaten face. "That's right, Sab, I'm here, we're here. I'm going to bring you home." He squats, his knees popping softly as he does, and reaches out to him slowly. "It's okay now. It's going to be okay." A small shaking hand reaches out too, slim fingers curl around his, and he squeezes them reassuringly. "Let's go home, Sab." The head turns into a neck, and then a set of shoulders, and before he knows it, he's guiding two slim legs around his waist, standing from his squatting position, his little Elect curled around him as tightly as he can manage in this weakened state. He can feel the trembles of his form, there's no way to know the true extent of the damage just yet, but they would soon enough, he doubted it was good from the trembling of his body.

His brother is having much of the same progress, caressing the cheek of his abused guard, large amber eyes staring up at him. "Let me take you home, Qas." The little guard whines softly, reaching for him like a fledgling does its guardian, and he lifts the small guard up within his arms in turn. He keeps his tone soft for the little guard's sake, but Nisroc can hear the sharp edge it sits on, seeing the runes carved into his guards neck, similar to the way his own had been carved into his own neck. "I want to know the one who thought of this sort of entrapment," Titus eyes the runes carved into his guard's neck heatedly. "I want to meet them personally."

"Let's just focus on them for right now."

The younger Power nods, pressing his cheek to the young guards in comfort, Qaspiel whimpers and curls around him tighter.

…

The Healer and his Virtues are waiting for them upon their arrival, he guides them quickly to a set of beds, covered in thick sheets to keep them from soiling the bedding underneath. The Healer orders two of his Virtues to hold them down so as he could break the runes carved into their necks. Nisroc holds Sablo's hands and Titus holds Qaspiel's as the Healer slowly does as he needs, carving the runes out once more, just as deep as they had been the first time, and slashing through them to break their hold. The runes on their necks are the worst of it, there's some whip lashes, a few pulled finger nails, Sablo's got a split lip and black eye, Qaspiel has a split lip and a broken cheek bone.

They sponge them clean, washing away the dirt and grime and dried blood.

Sablo reaches for the Power Captain after they bind his neck in bandages and wrap up his chest, before they can stitch up his split lip, but after they settle him into the bed more comfortably. Nisroc looks to the Healer for permission, and just as he had when it had been Tus in that bed, he slides in under the young little Elect, curling him in his arms, settled between his legs, he pulls him back against his chest as he himself leans back against the pillows. Sablo huddles against him, tucking himself under his chin, curling his bandaged fingers into his tunic. Nisroc rubs his fingers through the young Elects curls, comforting him silently, as he looks up to the Virtue Captain threading a needle to stitch up the little soon to be Power's split lip. "Oren will you pass me my jacket?"

The healer looks up, quirking an eyebrow at the strange request, but nods, reaching around his brother for the jacket hanging over the back of the chair next to them, and passes it to the Power laying in the bed with his patient.

Nisroc thanks him softly, reaching into the right inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a similar pendant that all Power's wear, he was going to give it to him at his induction ceremony, it wasn't quite complete yet, but there was no better time then right now. Especially after what he'd been through.

"Oren, I need you to draw a small vial of his grace, and a small vial of my grace."

His hands lower slightly, the Virtue looking down at him with raised eyebrows. "You _what_?"

"It's for tracking, we all have one, well, had, I gave mine to Akeelah when she was young." He looks down at the drowsy little Elect, brushing his fingers through his curls again. "It will lead me to them if they become lost to us."

"Okay, that makes sense…. But why his?"

"If he were to lose his, I could track him using his grace, instead of tracking mine."

Oren nods, understanding, they would need a way to keep track of one another if they got separated in the field. "I'll do it after I stitch up his lip."

He nods, gently pressing the young angel's head to his chest, keeping him from moving, as the Virtue kneels before them. They'd given him some tonics, so he's pretty out of it, but Sablo still stares at him while he reaches forward, flinching when he sticks the needle through one side of the gash in his lip and leads it through under the other side, loops the stitch, and ties it taught together, he does six more loops and ties it off.

"You did so good, little angel." Nisroc brushes his fingers through his curls once more, and Sablo nods against his chest lightly, he likes the feeling of fingers running through his curls. "Very brave."

Oren smiles at them, he thinks its amusing how the Power treats his little Elects, though he knows he has no room to talk, he treats theirs in similar fashion. He sets his needle and thread aside and takes up a syringe, he's an angel of his word and he said he'd do it, it's a good idea, perhaps they should take note on it. Nisroc holds his arm out for him, cringing slightly as the thick needle is stuck into his arm, the stopper pulled back, and watches as his grace is pulled from his vein, he's done this a total of six times, he was used to the pull at this point. The Virtue sets the syringe of his grace on the side table, and takes up another, he shakes his head when the Power makes to move the young Elect, and leans over slightly, straightening his arm out, and dips the needle into his arm. Sablo whines softly, twitching, but settles under the comforting hum of his Captain under his ear. He pulls the plunger back, taking in a small bit of his grace, and pulls the needle out smoothly once he's sure he has enough.

Nisroc thanks him softly, taking both syringes in hand, Sablo watches him silently, as he takes on syringe and sticks it into the pendant, pushing the plunger down, injecting the grace into the hollow stone, then does the same with the other. He sets the syringes down on the bedside table, Oren takes them and steps away for a moment. The Power carefully pulls him away slightly, winding the chain around the little Elects neck. "With this, we can track you easier, if anything were to separate us again." Sablo smiles sleepily and nuzzles closer, nudging the hand resting on his curls until the fingers rub over his head as he desires them to.

Titus slides under Qaspiel as soon as he can, the little guard staring at him imploringly, wanting the comfort of his captain more then anything, and he's glad to oblige. Qaspiel is a tiny little thing, a few inches shorter then Sorath, a pacifist, preferring peacekeeping over fighting, the reason he had chosen to be a guard over that of a warrior. Guards are peacekeepers. And he's been subjected to something none of his guards ever should be, not even the Prison guards had faced such an end during Thaddeus's unknowing reign of terror, but this one had, a young guard fresh out of training, he hadn't even been assigned yet, he was still searching out where to put him.

The young guard curls around him tightly, and he catches his hand when he reaches up to scratch at his neck. "No, no, Qas." He curls his fingers around the little guards, tucking his hand into his chest. "I know it itches, but you can't scratch at it, it'll make it hurt."

"Itches."

"I know, I know," he scratches lightly at his head, behind his right ear "How about I scratch here, does that make up for it?"

Qaspiel nods sleepily. "Like that."

"I thought you might." He scratches a finger behind his ear lightly and smiles, the young guard's purring softly, an involuntary reaction. "You're going to be here for a couple of days, should I send someone to get your stuffed duck for you?"

Qaspiel nods again, and he smiles down at him, scratching at his head again. "Alright, I'll have someone got get it for you." The Power pulls the blankets up over the sleepy guard, rubbing his cheek lightly before returning to scratching at his head. "You get some sleep, Qasy."

"Stay….?"

"I'm not leaving you, Qasy, I'll be here when you wake up."

Qaspiel nods lightly, his eyes fluttering closed, and after a moment his breathing evens out softly.

Titus rubs at his head gently, turning to his Captain, Nisroc is watching Sablo sleep, part of him wonders if he had done that for him when it had been him in this position. "I did." He blinks in surprise, his Captain flashes him a quick smile and turns his attention back to the Elect. "I could hear your thoughts, you're projecting, I did. I watched you sleep most of the time you were here. I didn't want you to wake up and be asleep when you needed me."

"And, I drugged him." They both look up at the Healer as he approaches, he stops first at the little Elect's bed, checking on the runes carved into his neck, to see how they were healing, nicely, they were healing nicely. Then, he moves on to the little guards, doing the same with him. "I drugged you too, so you both slept through the night." He turns a glare to the Power beside him, in the other bed. "And, I'll do it again, do not try that on me again. I'm not above drugging either of you. So don't tempt me."

Nisroc raises his hands placatingly. "I wouldn't dare."

"Good." Raphael smiles at him, turning back to the little guard, and rights the bandages around his neck. "You two better be asleep within the hour, things are looking as they should be, I'll be back. If you're not asleep when I arrive," he points a finger at them both. "I will _put_ you to sleep."


	18. Big Brother Of The Big Brothers (Thaddeus)

Thaddeus runs his fingers over the fine oak desk, everything was still in the same place he had left it, a light coating of dust had settled over it, but nothing had changed. He smiles as he runs his fingers over the knick knacks that he had collected over the years. He runs his fingers over his cloak, the fabric still just as soft as he remembers it being, he lifts the cloak from the hook it hangs on and shakes it out, dust sprinkles from it, and he folds it over his arm, continuing on. He runs his fingers over the edges of the books he's collected, he remembers so much more now, he used to read to them all when they got too upset, the sound of a kind voice offered some semblance of comfort. He smiles as he picks up the lone long feather sitting on the edge of one of the bookshelf shelves, pulling it down to look over, it's still intact, the bristles of the feather were still soft to the touch and firm, he runs his finger down the ridge of the feather, watching the bristles move with the motion. He'd tortured a number of his prisoners with this feather, he'd abused poor little Gaddy's toes rather frequently, this had been his most favorite torture device. He'd tortured a number of his guards with this feather as well. He'd enjoyed this feather very much.

Humming to himself, he twirls the feather between his fingers, maybe it was time he pulled this dusty feather out of retirement.

Smiling to himself, the young Warden nods, turning from the book shelf along the wall and stepped out the door, closing it softly behind him. He makes his way down the hall, humming to himself as he goes, falling quiet as he approaches the group of guards, coming up behind the oldest of the guards, he runs the tip of the feather over the back of his neck. Sabaoth shrieks softly, the sensation catching him off guard, and he jumps forward away from the offending attack.

Laughing softly, he lifts the feather up for them to see, twirling it between his fingers. "Look at what I found?"

The oldest guard groans softly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Why do you even still have that thing?"

"Because of your amusing reaction." He chuckles softly, holding the feather out again, finding it immensely amusing that the guard jumps away from him, holding his hands up as a barrier. "Here, Os."

The Warden tucks his feather in his fingers and shakes out his cloak, draping it over the guard resting back against the corner, half awake, half asleep, the guard smiles, pulling the cloak around him tighter. "I missed your cloak, Thadd."

"Get your nap, Osy."

The younger guard nods, cuddling down under the cloak, until all that is visible is the top of his head. Thaddeus snorts at him softly, shaking his head, Rahab giggles softly as she points to the feather in his fingers. "You still have the feather, Thaddy!"

He smiles at her, she's a bubbly little thing. "I do." He turns his smile to the older guard, watching him with his feather cautiously. "Who wants to see me use it on Saba?"

Sabaoth's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "No one."

"Oh," he shakes his head. "You don't get to have an opinion on this."

Rahab and Sorath exchange looks, a smile slowly spreading over their features, before both of them turn to nod up at the Warden. Thaddeus smiles at them, turning his attention back to the oldest guard, Sabaoth shakes his head, making a step backwards, and he jumps forward, catching the guard by the front of his tunic. They struggle for a moment, the two younger guards cheering him on softly, and he pulls him back against his chest, steadying him with his left arm curled around his middle.

He shakes his head, huffing softly when the Warden reaches up to steady him, and he falls still. "I missed doing this to you, Saba." He swipes the feather over the side of his neck, Saba shrieks softly, biting his lip to keep it from escaping. "Now, now, don't hold out on me, you know I always get what I want." The oldest guard shakes his head, and he tuts softly, curling the feather in his fingers and moves his arm down, digging his fingers into the guards lower belly. Sabaoth barks a laugh, falling into a fit, squirming desperately in his trap. "There's that laughter. That sweet, sweet laughter."

"Thahahahhahaaddy! Nohohohoho! Whyhyhyhy!"

"Because, they've shared some things with me, my dearest little Saba, and you need to be knocked down a few pegs."

"I dohohhoo noohhohohohot!"

"I think I'll be the judge of that." He turns them around, tucking the feather behind his ear, he curls his arm around the guards waist, to keep him in place, and digs his fingers into his belly more fully. Rahab giggles behind her hand and Sorath smiles smugly, Osmadiel simply sleeps through the whole thing. "Do you two think he needs to be shown his place?"

"I think he does!"

"He needs his big brother's love!"

He smiles, looking down at his little brother. "Oh, you need some of big brother's love?"

"Nohohohoho!"

"I think you do." He digs the fingers of both hands into his lower belly. "I really think you do."

Sabaoth chokes on a snort, bending forward at the waist, his older brother follows him, torturing his belly with his fingers without inhibition.

"Big brother has enough love to share."

"Thahahahahaaddy! Nohohohohot theeheheheehere!"

"But this is the best place," he digs a finger under his belly button. "It has been ever since you were that little fledging, barely coming up to my knee, following me around everywhere."

"I dihihihid nohohohoot!"

"You did too!" He chuckles lightly, moving his fingers to the sides of his belly. "You used to trip over yourself, holding onto my coat tails, crying out _'Taddy don' go!'_ "

"You knew Saba when he was little?"

Thaddeus nods at Sorath, smiling at the little angel, as he lets up on his torture for a moment, letting the younger angel fall back against him as he heaved for a breath, his fingers curled around his wrists tightly. "I did, little Sora, we were both raised by Nisroc. Saba was just given to him, a small little thing, when I was first given the place as Warden. He was a small little thing, I used to carry him around on my shoulder, only one, he was that small."

Rahab edges closer, moving up to take Sabaoth's seat next to Sorath. "He wasn't always this big?"

"Oh, no, he was a tiny little thing. He didn't hit his growth spurt until his third year of training. He was always following me around, like a little shadow." He looks down at the guard in his grasp. "Isn't that right, _baby_ brother?"

"I did not."

"You didn't?" He smiles down at him, pinching his lower belly. "You weren't that little angel that was always calling after me _'Taddy, Taddy take me wi' you!'_ whenever I'd take my leave?"

"No."

"You little liar." He digs his fingers back in and the younger angel shrieks, folding himself forward, and he follows. "It was a trick question, I was there, I _know_ you did."

"Tahahahhahaddy nohohohhoho!"

"Aw, he called you 'Taddy'!" Rahab squeals softly, hugging onto Sorath's arm. "That's so cute!"

"Isn't it?" He spares her a glance before looking back down at his younger brother. "I haven't been called that in ages. Let's see if I can get him to say it again." He curls his fingers into his waist and digs in sharply. "Ask me to stop, Saba."

"Tahahahahaddy stohohohop!"

"Say _'please'_."

"Pleheheheeheaahahahhahease Stohohhop!"

Thaddeus smirks slightly. "Who do you want to stop?"

"Tahahahahhaaddy! Plehehehehehease! I sahahahahaid pleheheheheease!"

"I don't know, what's in it for me?"

Sabaoth is desperate at this point. "Huhuhuhug!"

"You'll give me a hug?" He loosens his grip slightly. "How can I say no to that?"

As soon as it's lose enough, Saba turns, throwing his arms around his older brother's neck tightly. The Warden laughs softly, wrapping his arms around the younger angel, cradling the back of his head softly, pulling him close for a moment. "I missed being called that."

"Taddy?" the guard mumbles against his shoulder, and he chuckles softly, nodding against the side of his head. "Taddy."

Sabaoth presses closer, whispering softly, so the others can't hear. "I missed you, Taddy."

Thaddeus smiles, whispering back. "I missed you, too."


	19. Osmadiel Is A Big Mood (Osmadiel)

"Alright, Os, I want you to take around the new graduates and show them how this guarding thing works, your duties and such."

"I sit on a stool and sleep."

"Let me _rephrase_ ," Titus feels a headache coming on. "What a guard is _supposed_ to do."

"Let me _'rephrase'_." Osmadiel looks around at the bright and cheery faces, doe eyed and so naive to the world around them and how much it actually sucked. "You pulled me away from my nap for _this_?"

"I did," The Power nods. "You need to pull more weight around here. You'll be fine missing _one_ nap."

Osmadiel looks back to the group before them, making a particular expression, one of disgust and horror. "It's not even about the nap, though it pisses me off that you'd assume that." He turns to face his captain more directly. "Do I look like a frigging people person to you?"

…

It was just his luck that _he_ would show up while he was the only one there to watch over their only two high profile prisoners. Saba had taken Sora to get some lunch and Rahab had gone to get a change of trousers after she'd accidently dropped Zachariah's bowl of soup on herself. He groans, his nap interrupted, and sits up, tugging his older brothers cloak down.

"Sorry, no visitors, thems is the rules."

"I will only be a moment."

Osmadiel resists the strong urge to stand up and punch him in the face, but Thadd was down the hall in his office, the door was cracked, he'd hear the commotion, and then he'd be in trouble for punching someone, even if they deserved it, while they couldn't defend themselves properly.

"Let me make this simpler for you," he twirls his finger. "You! Off my planet!"

…

Titus and Nisroc walked into the Prison upon notice from a passerby that there was quite a commotion going on within, there was yelling, and said yelling could be heard all the way down on the Axis below. It stopped them in their tracks to see the brawl laid out before them. Thaddeus yelling at Sorath, Sabaoth yelling at Thaddeus for yelling at Sorath, Rahab was trading heated words with Aeshma, and Temeluch was looming over her shoulder as though to dissuade her by mere presence alone.

It wasn't working.

The only one who wasn't involved in the all-out war, the only one sitting on their stool, smiling lightly at the scene around them was Osmadiel.

His voice floated over the yelling. "Chaos, panic, and disorder—my work here is done."

They watch him with wide eyes as he pulls Thaddeus's cloak up over his head and slumps into his corner.

…

Sabaoth was watching him, he knew he was, he saw the way he tapped the youngest guard on the shoulder, halting his chattering about his latest puzzle. Sorath looked up at him and he pressed a finger to his lips, hushing the chattering, the younger guard nodded silently, leaning back against the older guard behind him. Saba curls his arms around him, and goes back to watching the guard next to him.

Os's eye twitches lightly, fingers curled in their older brother's cloak, what makes the whole thing unnerving is how still he's sitting.

Metatron's been ranting, nonstop, for almost an hour.

And the sun had only just risen.

Osmadiel is losing his patience quickly, but he's holding himself together, Thaddeus is leaning against the wall beside him, watching the situation unfold with similar apt attention. Rahab scoots away from him quietly, not wanting to draw his unwavering stare towards her, away from the chattering scribe next to them.

He clears his throat, and the scribe falls silent, glaring at him through the bars of his cell. As stoic as one can be, tone completely even, he speaks. "Not all men are annoying. Some are dead."

Metatron shuts up after that.

Thaddeus laughs and ruffles his hair.

And, Osmadiel gets his nap.

…

If one were to ask him what he wanted to do on his day off, it would involve sleeping in, perhaps cuddling up with Thaddeus, though he'd deny it if ever confronted with it, and letting him rub his head while he fell asleep against him, just sleep, sleep in general, that's what he'd like to do with his day off.

But no.

Father had a _great_ sense of humor. (He cursed him ten times over for making him put up with this.)

He was ordered to come down and help these humans, now he doesn't mind humans, he doesn't really think about them all too much, the only thing on his mind, most of the time, was sleeping. Sleep was his best friend. But these ones, they got on his nerves more then _Metatron_ did, and that was quite the accomplishment, not a good one, but an accomplishment none the less.

All they did was _complain,_ and _moan,_ and _groan_.

Life wasn't fair, it was time someone told them that, it was never fair and it never would be.

All they did was demand their help, they never thanked them, never appreciated their help, their aid, they just expected it because they were friends with the Big Guy. (part of the reason he was cursing His name. The other reason? He was missing his prime napping time.)

The worst part of it, it was just him, him and Titus, he didn't even have his older brothers here for company. Sabaoth got to spend his day off the same way he always did. Sorath got to enjoy himself playing with his toys. Rahab got to draw in her sketch book and read her books. Aeshma and Temeluch got to play their board games.

But, not him, no, here he was, standing here listening to the stupid little mudmonkey complain and insult his family for no other reason then him thinking he was better then them.

He wasn't.

Thaddeus wasn't even here. He'd at least distract him from his souring mood. But he wasn't there. He was enjoying his Saturday.

He turned a stare on the human, his eyes bounced between him and the other angel, until they stayed on him. His chattering came a slow silence as he stared right back.

Osmadiel clasped his hands in front of him, putting on the most innocent look he could muster when he noted Tus turning in his direction. "And your crybaby whiny-ass opinion means nothing."

…

They really have to stop sending him on these missions to help the humans, he's starting to think it's some kind of cosmic joke, they're all just sitting up there watching him stew in it and laughing their asses off, he knows they are, and it makes them curse their names ten ways to Sunday.

It finally pushes him over the edge when the younger Winchester starts quoting the Bible at him.

He turns a dull glance in his direction. "The Bible was written by the same people who said the Earth was flat, genius."

…

Sabaoth has to hold him back, they'd learn, they'd all learn not to wake him from his naps. His naps were allowed and expected. It was concerning when he didn't take his nap. Titus would worry, Thaddeus would make him a glass of warm milk, they all knew how much he needed his naps. No naps made one very cranky Osmadiel, and no one wanted a cranky Osmadiel, so he was allowed to curl up in his corner under his older brother's cloak.

These new graduates would learn, even if it meant jumping back from the feral guard being held back only by their superior, Osmadiel struggled against them, reaching out. "Okay, okay! You know what! Un-screw you!"

…

"Os, you're not sick, get up." Titus stands in the doorway of his bedroom, the light from the hall shining in on him, and he hisses at it, hiding away from the light under his blankets. "I know what you look like when you're sick."

"I plead contemporary insanity."

"I don't think so."

…

Castiel's staring at him, Titus is facepalming, and Sabaoth is chuckling under his breath but trying to hide it behind a cough.

"Your suggestion on this matter is to _'Blow it up.'_."

Dean Winchester puts in his two sense, of course. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard come out of the mouth of an angel, and I've listened to _Gabriel_ before."

Osmadiel glares at him intensely. "If you don't want a sarcastic answer, then don't ask a stupid question."

…

Sabaoth is technically the head of their little group in the Prison, well Thaddeus is really, but he's not always there and leaves it to Saba to manage them when he's not there to do so himself. That being said, there was only one time someone else came to fill in for him, he was sick and Tus made him stay in bed, he's heard that he was fought on that but nothings been confirmed yet.

He doesn't need it to be, he already knows.

That guy didn't last long.

He made one comment about him napping on the job.

Os's response—"I am sorry, I didn't realize that you're an expert on my life and how I should live it! Please continue while I take notes."

Then, of course, he began with how unimpressed he was, and of course that went over well.

"I can only please one person per day. Today is not your day. Tomorrow doesn't look good either."

…

"How are we feeling this morning, everyone?"

Thaddeus was much too cheery this early in the morning.

And he'd forgotten to bring his cloak with him.

So, he was left in the cold when he took his nap.

Osmadiel glared at him, he hadn't forgiven him for forgetting his cloak yet. "Today's mood: Bitchy with a chance of sarcasm."

"Noted."

…

Once again, with the hunters and their clan.

Now he knows it's a joke. He knows it.

"Deja Poo: The feeling that you've heard this shit before."

…

They all circled together between their assigned Prisoner's cells, Saba on his right, Sora on Saba's left, Ra on Sora's right, and Thaddy on his left. Rahab took a deep breath, looking between them all. "Did you hear what Ashmal said about Osy?"

Osmadiel feels an eyeroll coming on. "I love rumors. I always find out amazing things about myself I never knew."

Thaddeus pulls him close against his side and pushes his head down on his shoulder. "Take your nap, Osy."

…

Osmadiel is in a good mood, it's noticed as soon as he steps into the Prison early that morning, Aeshma and Teme watch him as he makes his way down the hall, swinging his arms slightly, a bit of a hop in his step. Rahab uncurls slightly to watch him enter and Sorath peeks out from under Saba's arms.

He spreads his arms wide, with a smile, and proudly proclaims. "Good Morning World! Your little ray of sarcastic sunshine has arrived!"

Thaddeus comes down the hall across from him. "Someone's in a good mood."

"Someone's in a _great_ mood!"

…

Osmadiel resists the urge to throw his head back at this human's chattering, really, he hates his superiors at this point. Once again, a perfectly good day for napping, down the drain to these two buffoons.

He snaps his fingers and Dean Winchester falls silent. "Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until they speak."


	20. The Prisoner Of Cell 367 (Thaddeus & Jahoel)

"Thaddeus," the young Warden looks up at the call of his name, standing in the doorway of his new room is the current Warden of his Prison, Nisroc had taken things back to how they had been before things had changed, he didn't stand for torture, he didn't stand for his Prisoners being harmed, he treated them all with respect, but none could treat any of them in the same manner the original Warden had treated them. The new prisoners hadn't the faintest idea how the original Warden had treated his prisoners, all they remembered was the reign of terror, they shied away from him when he walked passed their cells. And it broke his heart. "I'm proud of the progress you've made. You've come a long way."

Thaddeus smiles, tucking the excess of his belt around into the loop, keeping it out of the way. "Thank you, I am happy with the progress that's been made, I remember much now. Some things are still foggy, but I remember more then I had when you first brought me out of there."

"I know you do." The Power rubs at his chin lightly, scratching at his beard gently. "I've been watching you. You're not as cautious in the Prison as you once were, you're as though you're at home now, your heart lies in that building and its inhabitants. You remember who you are and where you're supposed to be."

"It's my home."

"It is," he nods, smiling at the young Warden, the progress he had made far surpassed expectations. "That is why I am giving it back to you. I think you're ready. I think you've been ready for a while, I was just nervous, I didn't want to put it on you if you weren't ready, but I think you are now. The Prison belongs to you, it is indeed your home, and you deserve to have your home back."

"You're giving it back to me?"

Nisroc nods. "I am. It belongs to you. No one else fits it quite like you do." The younger angel smiles at him, rushing forward to hug him tightly, the Power grunts under the force of the impact, but chuckles, wrapping his arms around his grown charge in turn. "Go show those prisoners what their Warden is really like."

"I will! They're scared of me and I don't want them to be scared of me! What they know wasn't me! I'm not like that! I'm not!"

"They don't know you, Tadpole." He rubs his hand down the back of the young Warden's head. "Go show them who you really are."

…

He walked down the hall between the cells with two guards at his heel, looking into the cells as he passed them, they hid in the shadows from him, not how they used to though, this was out of fear. They were terrified of him; he didn't like that they were terrified of him.

Nisroc had sad to show them how he really was, who he really was, what he was like as Warden.

He stopped before the cell of a young angel, a lesser prisoner, here for miscellaneous crimes during the second Fall. He was young, barely older then the Powers Elect, curls clipped back, out of his eyes. He looked at him through the bars of the cell, frowning at his quivering form, he could see him shaking from here, and he was at least twenty paces away.

That just wouldn't do.

"This one."

The two guards nod, stepping forward, passed his shoulders. The prisoners eyes widen in horror, and he shakes his head frantically, as they grab him by the arms and drag him out of his cell. "No! _No!_ Please! _Please_!" He struggles against their hold, tugging fruitless, digging his heels into the ground, trying to stay them in their path. He walks behind them, watching the whole ordeal closely, it breaks his heart, to see one of _his_ prisoners so terrified of _him._

The guard on the right pulls the door to the back room open, it took him some time, but he'd scrubbed the place clean. The dust that coated the table had been thick, and the crusted blood on top had been thicker, it took him a few days, he broken down every time he saw the rusty colored blood staining the table and straps. They push him forward, onto the table, he struggles, tugging at his arms and kicking with his legs, but they manage to trap him, strapping his hands above his head and his ankles to the bottom of the table. Tears stream down his face as he looks around wildly, taking in the legendary torture chamber, where the screams came that echoed down the hall, they all knew the torture chamber, they all knew what happened when they were taken to the torture chamber and left to the Warden's own devices, for him to do whatever he felt like, they were at his whim. The guards nod at their Warden and make their leave.

Tears stream down the prisoners cheeks as they leave him there, and he braces himself, clenching his eyes shut as Thaddeus moves from his feet, making his way up the side of the table, he clenches his eyes shut and bites his lip and prepares for whatever is about to come.

He jolts when something rubs at his cheek, it's soft and smooth, and the touch is gentle, comforting even, and it doesn't hurt. He chances a peek, opening one eye just a sliver, and peeks out. He's rubbing his cheek with a cloth, rubbing away the tears gently, the Warden is cleaning him up, Thaddeus isn't hurting him.

The older angel smiles down at him. "It's okay." He rubs at his eyes, wiping away the tears softly, his eyes burn but no more tears fall. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Y—You're no—not?"

Thaddeus shakes his head. "I'm not."

"B—But—"

"That wasn't me. That's not who I am. I take care of my Prisoners. I would never harm them." He tucks the cloth back into his pocket. "I trust you know who Naomi is?"

The younger angel nods lightly, still unsure, but he'll see where this goes. Be prepared for anything. Be cautious.

"Enough said then. I went to see her one day, and, well, least to say everything changed."

"Y—You mean—She—She—"

He smiles slightly, rubbing his cheek, catching a stray tear with his thumb. "Brainwashed me?" The older angel nods. "No one was spared."

"A—And you—you—tor—torture m—me?"

"I'm not going to torture you, no." He shakes his head, then pauses, shrugging lightly. "Not in the way you're thinking anyway." He tilts his head downwards. "What's your name?"

The younger angel licks his lips slightly. "Ja—Jahoel."

"Hello, Jahoel." He smiles down at him. "How old are you?"

"Sev—Seventeen."

"You're so young," he tilts his head to the side. "Why are you here?"

"I—I stole fr—from the armory."

"You _stole_ from the armory?"

Jahoel nods. Thaddeus pokes him in the cheek lightly. "Stealing is bad, Jahoel."

"I know."

"Then, why'd you do it?"

Jahoel averts his eyes. "I don't know."

"I see," Thaddeus snaps his fingers lightly to gain his attention back. "How long is your sentence?"

Jahoel sighed softly, biting his lip softly. "One hundred days."

"Alright, that's a bit much, is it your first time?"

The younger angel nods. "Yes."

The Warden nods. "I'll talk to Michael about it. That's too much for the first offense."

"Y—You'd do that?"

"I would," Thaddeus smiles down at him. "Tomorrow morning. For now, though, you're at my mercy."

Jahoel's eyes widen. "Y—You said you we—weren't going to h—hurt me."

The Warden nods assuredly. "And, I'm not." He reaches back, for the bun of curls on the back of his head and pulls forward a long slim feather. "I'm going to torture you with this, for a bit anyway, then I'll really dig in."

"Y—You're going to to—torture me with a—a feather?"

"I am." He runs his finger over the ridge of the feather. "I'm quite good with a feather." He tucks the feather behind his ear, reaching for the hem of his thin tunic. "We'll have to get you something a bit thicker then this, it's going to start getting cooler at night, perhaps an extra blanket is in order as well." He lifts his tunic up, and Jahoel's eyes widen as he pulls his tunic up over his head, he shakes his head as it's pulled up and over. Thaddeus smiles down at him. "Usually I like to keep you from seeing, but seeing as to how unsure you are, I'll let you see."

"Wh—What are you go—going to do to m—me?"

"Nothing bad," he brushes his stray curls back, the ones not held back by the clip. "I said I wasn't going to hurt you, didn't I?" He presses a hand to his chest. "I'm an angel of my word."

"Th—Then what a—are you go—going to do?"

Thaddeus falters slightly. "You really don't know, do you?"

The little angel shakes his head. "No."

He smiles softly. "Then, let me show you." He cracks his knuckles, flexing his fingers out, and reaches over his belly, resting a hand on either side. Jahoel looks between both hands as much as he can, before looking back up at the Warden, with wide semi curious eyes. "I'm going to do this." He digs his fingers in, and his eyes widen comically, he shrieks brightly and arches his back. "See, this isn't so scary, is it?"

"Waitwaitwait! Nohohohoo! Whyhyhyhyhy!"

"Why?" He spiders his fingers over to his left side, and the younger angel jolts, leans as far away as he can manage, but he doesn't get very far. "Because, I can." He leans over him, spidering his fingers back over to the other side, and Jahoel shrieks, jumping in his binds, leaning over to the other side as far as he can manage. "And, because I like to. It's fun. You need to have some fun in this place."

"Ahahahahahhaha stohohohop! Gehehehehet ohohhhoff!"

"My, my, someone's a bit on the ticklish side." He sounds amused, the Warden sounds amused, and he looks up at him, feeling a bit more comfortable when he takes note of the smile, he's looking down at him with. "This is going to be a good time." He spiders his fingers up his right side and Jahoel shrieks again, leaning away from them as much as he could. "You can wiggle away as much as you'd like, you slippery little thieving angel, but you're not getting away from me." He pokes a fingers into his armpit and the little thief lets out a bright, high pitched _'eep'_. "Oh, is this a particularly sensitive spot?"

Jahoel bites his lip, nodding slightly, and the older angel smiles down at him. "Interesting, let's see how sensitive it is." He wiggles his finger softly and the younger angel shrieks, eeping again, biting his lip harshly to hold it all back. Thaddeus looks down at him. "Don't hold back on me, that only makes it worse." He flutters his fingers over the exposed underarm and it elicits a bright squeal from the boy. "Oh, I liked that."

"Plehehehhehahhahahahahhhaessseeee! Nohohhoo mohohohore! Gehehehehet ohohhohoff! Gehehehet ohohohohoff!"

"You're a little thief, right?"

Jahoel nods frantically, tugging at his bound arm desperately, cackling like a madman.

"Will you ever try and steal from me?"

"Mahahahahaybeheheehe!"

Thaddeus smiles down at him, pausing his attack, and the younger angel's shrieking cackles die down to frantic giggles. "Do you know what I'd do to you if I ever caught you?"

"As if you _could_ catch me."

"Oh, ho, ho," he digs the fingers of his free hand in the captive angel's side and he shrieks, jumping against his bonds. "Snarky, are we?"

"Sohohhoorry! I'm sohohohorry!"

"I'd do this, if I ever caught you, and I _would_ catch you." He winks down at the mess of an angel under his wiggling fingers. "I've had plenty of practice at catching sneaky, tricky little angels like you. I've had plenty of escape attempts, but none ever manage to get passed me, do you think you'll be the first?"

"I cahahahhaan tryhyhyhy!"

Thaddeus laughs at that, pulling away from him, leaving him panting on the table. He nods in amusement. "Yes, you sure could try." He reaches above him, and he pants, looking up to see what he's doing, watching him undo the straps around his wrists. Jahoel sits up, tugging his tunic back down into place, watching him lean over his left foot as he reached for the right strap, and then the left, he tugs at the toes of his left foot. "You came barefoot?"

"I don't have much."

"I'll get you some shoes."

He turns, dangling his legs over the side of the table, kicking his feet lightly. He stumbles slightly when he hops down, and the Warden catches him, steadying him before he can fall over. "Easy, easy."

Jahoel curls the fingers of his right hand into the Warden's tunic as he steadies himself out. "Are you going to put me back in my cell now?"

"No," the older angel shakes his head. "Now, I'm bringing you to my office, where you'll nap until supper time."

"Really?"

"Really." Thaddeus smiles down at him, guiding him around with a hand to the small of his back, he turns them around towards the door across from them. "And, nothing better be missing when you do go back to your cell."

"I make no promises."

…

He opens the door to his office quietly, reading through one of the files he carries with him, he'd taken in three new Prisoners in the last week, and he had some sorting out to do. He sighs as he closes the door, the room falling into darkness, and he walks expertly to his desk, turning the dial on the lamp, and the flame flickers to life, casting a warm glow over the room.

There's a slight rustle from his side and he jumps in surprise, there's a person sleeping on the cot in his office, one that had not been there when he'd left it the night before. Setting the files on his desk, he steps cautiously over to their side, sighing in near silent relief when he recognizes the tan face and brown golden curls framing his face.

Thaddeus kneels beside the cot, reaching out to brush the curls from the younger angel's eyes. "Jahoel?"

"Mmmm," the younger angel murmurs softly, his eyes scrunching up like that of a fledgling, woken from deep comforting slumber. "Wha-?"

"How did you get in here?"

He rubs at his eyes, curling back into the pillow under him. "I picked the lock."

"Have you been here all night?"

Jahoel hums. "Mmhmmm."

Smiling slightly, the Warden brushes his curls back, tucking the blanket up farther over his shoulder. "Get some sleep, little thief." Jahoel cuddles back down into the pillow. "I'll wake you for breakfast." The younger angel nods, cuddling down under the blanket, curling up on his side, curling his hands up under his chin.

He made a mental note to keep cell 397 unlocked, it was no use locking it when he'd just pick it open, he also made a mental note to figure out _how_ he managed to pick his cell open. Crossing behind his desk, he takes the files back in hand, and opens the one he'd been reading once more.

The Warden was fond of that little thief.


	21. Making Amends (Thaddeus & Gadreel)

He was nervous, when Nis had finally made the arrangements for him to finally get together with Gadreel, he had explained to him what had happened, how he had panicked when he'd been locked back in the Prison without anyone knowing, how his panic attack had caused him to take extremely drastic measures, how he had made his own grace implode, and that was why that particular portion of the Prison was currently in the process of being rebuilt. He explained to him the severity of his injuries, how most had healed, but his legs were taking more time to heal then everything else, how he was still stuck in those braces that prevented him from bending his legs, they stuck straight out without change.

He prepared himself to see what had become of the panic that had set in from being in _his_ Prison, a panic that had been instilled by him, and he briefly wondered why he had agreed for this meeting to take place. He knows that Titus had asked Gadreel if he was okay with it, and obviously he had answered in the positive, perhaps a bit hesitantly, he was sure, but he'd said it was alright, and so here they were.

Thaddeus waited outside the door of the bedroom that the Sentry had been made up, Nisroc had stepped in before him, cracking the door behind him, so that he couldn't be seen just yet. He could hear him talking softly, explaining everything to the younger angel bound to his bed involuntarily, Titus spoke up after him, he couldn't hear what was being said, they were speaking too softly. There was a brief pause of silence. And then Gadreel spoke. His voice was small, it shook softly from nerves, it made his heart clench that he was so nervous, so frightened, of _him,_ he spoke for only a moment, his voice only a small whisper, he couldn't make out what was being said.

And then there was silence.

He looked up as the door was pulled open, Nisroc smiled at him softly, encouragingly, he knew that they both still loved each other, they loved each other dearly, there was just some obstacles that had to be worked through before they could come together again. Titus watched him, a slight smile playing at his lips, from where he was leaning back against the desk, his arms crossed loosely, nodding for him to step into the room.

Thaddeus stepped in cautiously, freezing at the sharp intake of a breath from the left, and he turned to see him, there he was, his little, baby brother, laying prone in his bed, legs strapped securely in those straight braces. He watched him with wide, terrified eyes, shaking in fright, he vibrated where he sat, quivering as he stared up at him. It made his heart break into tiny little pieces, like the some of the bones in the Sentry's legs, the Healer was giving him potions that would rebuild the bones again, but it was going to take time. Lots and lots of time.

He stood frozen in his spot, feeling the eyes of the two Powers on his back, watching them with the eyes of an eagle, waiting for the moment to jump in, intervene, if the need arose for either of them. It was something that would be trying for the both of them, Thaddeus remembered vaguely of his doings, Gadreel remembered clear as day, their hearts were broken for the same reason but with varying degrees of remembrance.

"Gaddy," he called out softly, flinching when the young Sentry flinched at the sound of his voice, he didn't miss the way he shrunk in on himself, no one in the room did. "Gaddy, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry."

He can see the shine of the tears as they well up in the younger angel's eyes, his voice cracked when he finally found it, and it was still as soft as a whisper, it was only because of the silence at his back that he heard it. "Y—You prom—promised to pro—protect m—me." He felt tears well up in his own eyes as the younger angel, his baby brother, the one he loved with all his heart, his little Gaddy, stuttered in his consuming fear. "Y—You sa—said you wo—would ta—take care—care of m—me."

His own voice cracks. "I know. I—I know I did. I re—remember now. I remember what I did. Vaguely." He takes a small step forward and the younger sentry flinches away from his approach. "I'm so, so, so sorry, Gaddy, for what I did to you. There's nothing I can do to make it up to you, it's unspeakable what I did, all I can say is how sorry I am."

"Y—You hurt m—me. You hu—hurt me re—really bad. I—I have so ma—many sc—scars now." Tears finally spill over, spilling down his cheeks, as he chokes on a sob. That's what breaks his statue-esque freeze, and he rushes forward, taking note of the way he shrinks back, as much as he can with his legs immobile, but pushes it down in favor of getting to his side, showing him that he's back, he's his old self again, he's not that monster anymore. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out, ignoring the harsh flinch away from him, and curls his fingers around his cheeks, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "No, no, don't cry. It's okay. It's going to be okay. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you. I don't know how, but I will, I'll live everyday trying to."

Gadreel chokes on a sob, looking up at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears, his cheeks still cradled in his older brother's hands. "Is—Is it t—true? Did—Did sh—she really do—do tha—that to you—you? D—Did it re—really ha—happen?"

Thaddeus nods, wiping away the tears that continue to fall. "It did, it really did, I don't remember it, but that's what everyone is saying. I'm so sorry, Gaddy, I love you so much. I would have never have willingly done that to you, never, not even on my worst days. I hurt you, I hurt you terribly, and I can never take that back, no matter how much I want to." He leans forward then, pressing their foreheads together, Gadreel stares up at him with wide eyes, swallowing sob after sob, wanting to hear him, what he had to say. "If I could turn back time, I would turn it back in a heartbeat, I would protect you, like I promised, I would never have gone to see Naomi. I would have stayed with you, I wouldn't have gone, I'd never have let that all happen. Never. If I had known. I wouldn't have gone. I wouldn't have let that happen to you."

"Y—You swear?" Gadreel speaks through a sob, shaking like a leaf even still, though his flinching has come to a brief stop, he hopes it doesn't pick up again, but he knows it probably will. "Y—You pr—promise?"

"I swear. I never would have hurt you. _Never_." He smiles down at him, brushing their noses together, staring right back into his eyes. "I love you so much, Gaddy. With all my heart. You're my baby brother. I was there when you were just a small fledgling. I helped take care of you. You used to ride around on my shoulders. We used to play all sorts of games together. You mean the world to me." He looks him in the eyes, wanting to make sure he feels his conviction, how honest he's being. "I never want to see you hurt. Never. Especially by my hand. I'm here to protect you, to take care of you, never to harm you."

Gadreel stares at him, looking between his eyes, trying to find fault in his words, in his conviction, and when he finds none, his eyes begin to water again. His eyes clench closed as his face scrunches up, tears spilling down his cheeks again, a rough sob tearing from his throat. All that pain and anguish at what had been done by his older brother's hands finally spilling out.

The young Warden stares at him for a moment, his heart crumbling to pieces once more, but he pushes on, he pushes forward, now's not the time for him to break down too. He could do that later, when he was alone, hidden away in his room, away from prying eyes, that's when he could break down too, but not now. Now, his baby brother needed him, he needed him to take care of him, and he would, he's keep that promise he'd made all that time ago. He'd always take care of his little Gaddy.

"It's okay, come here, it's okay. I've got you. You're okay." He pulls him close, curling his fingers back around the back of his neck, pulling him into his shoulder. Gadreel breaths out sobs, tentatively curling his arms around the older angel, curling his fingers tightly into his tunic, balling it into his fists, as he sobs brokenly into the older angel's shoulder. Thaddeus curls around him, as though to protect him from the outside world, to keep him from being seen, to hide him from the outside world. "It's okay, Gaddy, it's okay." He curls his right arm around his back, holding him close, and strokes his hand down the back of his head. Rubbing his fingers through his curls, scratching at the back of his head, whispering down to him soothingly. "It's okay, you're okay, everything's okay. Big brother's here. He's got you. You're safe. I'll protect you. I'm here."

Behind them, the two Powers watch the scene unfold, and trusting that they weren't going to be needed, Titus taps his older brother on the arm, gesturing towards the door when he turns to look down at him. Nisroc nods, turning quietly, making his way to the door and pulling it open silently, sparing the two of them one last glance, he steps out, Titus following behind him, and he closes the door softly behind him. They'll be across the hall, listening closely, in the younger Power's room, but letting them have this private moment.

The two of them don't notice that the two Powers have left them, too wrapped up in each other, as Gadreel's sobs come to a calm, sniffling against his older brother's shoulder, resting against him completely, letting himself be held by those arms that had always held him, always comforted him when he broke down, always held him when he needed to be held, wrapped around him warmly and protectively. Thaddeus rubs his back softly, pulling him back gently, immediately rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks, cradling his face in his hands. "That's it, there you go." He smiles down at him as the younger angel sniffles softly. "Feel better?"

Gadreel nod's softly in his hands, taking a deep breath. "Better."

"Good, good, there's nothing better then having a good cry." He rubs his thumbs over his cheeks gently. "It always helps." His little brother smiles up at him slightly, a shy smile, still somewhat unsure, still just a bit nervous. "But, now, we cheer you up. This is the time for bringing that smile back. And, I know just the way."

He reaches up with his left hand, Gadreel follows the movement, and his eyes widen when he spots it. "You still have the feather?"

Thaddeus smiles, twirling the feather between his fingers. "I do. I love this feather. It's my favorite thing in the world." He winks down at the younger angel and stands from the side of the bed. Gadreel watches him closely, a smile slowly stretching further over his features, as he watches him walk down the length of the bed, and sit on the end, turn around to face him, and cross his legs underneath him.

He twirls the feather between his feather between his fingers again. "I love this feather very much." He looks across at him for a moment, smiling playfully, he remembers that smile, he remembers what it brings, that's his big brother's smile, not the smile of his tormentor, of his abuser, that's the big brother who loves him and just wants to see him smile and listen to him laugh his little angel heart out. "And, I remember, I know your little toes loved it as well."

"Tahahahaddy!" Gadreel giggles in anticipation, curling his toes up instinctively, watching his older brother's free hand as he moves closer to his foot, reaching for his toes. He giggles just a bit harder, his foot twitching, all he can really do in these dreaded braces. He curls his pointer finger around his big toe and pulls it back, opening up just a little bit of space for him to get to, he looks up for a single moment, winking at him playfully, and winds the tip of the feather between his two toes, letting it rest there, basking in the explosion of giggles it elicits even in it's stillness. "I'm catching up for lost time, now."

The giggles fall silent, or, at least, they calm down a bit as they sit there for a brief moment. And, then, he moves the feather, rubbing it back and forth between his toes, and he explodes into a round of hearty giggles. His foot twitches this way and that, as the feather rubs at the space between his toes gently, he falls back against his pillow, trapped in a fit of boisterous giggles. "Aww, your toes are still just as ticklish as they were back then. You haven't changed in the slightest."

"Taahahahahahaadddyyy! Nohohohhoho!"

"You need some cheering up," he turns the feather around and rubs the quill over the sensitive underside of his big toe, the younger angel shrieks softly, wiggling his foot around desperately, trying to get away, but he doesn't manage it, the quill continues to scratch lightly over the underside of his toe. "I wouldn't be a good big brother if I didn't cheer you up."

"I'm hahahahhahaappy! I'm cheheheheheered uhhahahahhahauauuhuuhhup!"

"I don't think you are." He wiggles his other toes at the sensation of his playful torture. "Oh, look at those other toes, let me get them too." He curls his fingers around his other toes and pulls them back, running the quill of the feather over the skin underneath, Gadreel shrieks again, shaking his head frantically against his pillow. "That's much better."

"Nohhohohoho! Tahaahahahahaddy! Nohohhohot thehehehehehee toohohohohoeehehehehes! Nohohhohot thehehehehrrreehehehehee!" He shakes his head side to side, curling his arms around his belly, as he falls into a fit of boisterous laughter. "Nohohohot thahahhahaahhaat! Nohohohot theheheeheh fehehehaehahahahahatheehehheer!"

"See, this is why I like the feather," he moves down, scratching the quill of the feather over the ball of his foot, the younger angel squeals softly, his toes scrunching up tightly as he tries to wiggle his foot away again. "It's so simple and yet it gets me the best reaction."

"Tahahahahddy! Nohohhohoh! Nohohohot thehehehehehrrehehhehee! Nohohohot theheheheheehere! Plehehehehhease! I'm behehehehehttehehehehr!"

"Such a ticklish little foot."

"Aahahahahahahhahahaha! Tahahahahahahhaahaahaddy! Hehahahaeehehehehehehehheaaahahahaha! Tihihihihickles! Iihihihihit tihihihihickles!"

Thaddeus winks at him, quickly tucking the feather behind his ear, and scribbles the fingers of his free hand over the arch of his foot, up and down his sole, and he shrieks, squealing with laughter as he assaults his foot more head on. "I know it does, little angel, that's why I'm doing it."

"Tahahahahahaddy!"

"Are you happy now?"

"I'm hahahahahaaaappyyyy!"

"You swear?"

"Ihihihihi sweheheeeahahahahhar!"

"If you're sure." He pauses his attack. "Because, if not, I'm happy to keep going."

Gadreel looks down at him, giggling madly, and shakes his head. "Nohohoho! I'm suuhuhuhure! I ahahahhaam!"

He wiggles his fingers briefly and the younger angel shrieks. But then he stops, pulling away. "Okay, if you're sure."

…

Titus closes the book he'd been reading after a good ten minutes of silence, the squeals and laughter had brought a smile to their faces, some things would never change. "Perhaps we should go check on them."

Beside him, Nisroc nods, closing his own book. "I think you're right. It's been silent in there for nearly ten minutes."

Both Powers rolls off the guards' captain's bed, crossing the hall silently to the room across from them, and open the door quietly to peer inside. They share a smile at the sight of them cuddled up together, sound asleep, the fingers of one of their hands twined together.

Titus smiles, pulling the door closed silently, turning to his brother at his shoulder. "Maybe we should let them sleep."

"I agree, let's let them take this nap."


	22. The Cure For Shyness (Thaddeus & Tzadkiel)

Tzadkiel was new here, okay, he was still learning his way around, he still got lost in the twists and turns that made up the Prison, he got lost but he found his way back eventually, he still forgot his keys every other day and had to borrow Sabaoth's when it was time to feed the row of cells he was in charge of. He was still meeting the other guards, he'd smile and shake their hands politely, but he'd bite his tongue, too shy to say anything, he didn't want to embarrass himself.

He also avoided his boss. He'd squeak and turn in the other direction when he saw him coming, what was he supposed to say to the legendary man, he ran the place, he brought this place life, it lived and breathed around him and what he did. He didn't want to make a bad first impression, what if he found that he didn't like Tzadkiel, what if he asked Tus to replace him with someone else, he wasn't incompetent, he just wasn't used to having to carry around keys yet, okay, he was still working on it.

"I thought I'd find you here." He looks up at the sound of the voice, Sabaoth smiles at him from the entrance to the breakroom, the midway point between the two cell blocks. "I was looking for you."

"I'm sorry, sir—Sabaoth—Saba—sir." He jumps to his feet, trying for a confident smile, and Sabaoth chuckles at him when he doesn't quite manage it. His slip up is also somewhat amusing too.

"You can call me _'Saba'_ , just _'Saba'_." He gestures over his shoulder, down that hall, at the end, is the torture chamber, the entrance to the Warden's Quarters, and the Warden's office, why was he gesturing in that direction. "Thaddy wants to see you."

He feels something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. "He does?"

Saba nods lightly. "He does. He's waiting in his office."

Gulping, he nods, stepping around the older guard as he steps aside, and walks passed the other three, hearing Saba take his spot back behind Sora, the stool creaks softly as he its on it, he makes his way down the hall slowly and stops just outside the Warden's office.

Hesitantly, he raises his fist, rapping his knuckles against the door lightly.

Maybe if he's quiet enough he'll think he's not there and he can go back to avoiding the man that has requested an audience with him.

But a voice calls from within, granting him entrance, and he swallows thickly as he reaches for the door handle and twists it open. His back is facing him, as he rummages through the closet across from him, on the far wall, but his voice drifts over clearly.

"Hi, welcome, take a seat." He points over his shoulder to the chairs before his desk. "I'll be with you in just a minute."

"Yes, Sir." He gingerly crosses into the office, closing the door behind him, and takes occupancy in one of the empty chairs before the Warden's desk. The man pauses a moment. "Don't call me that." He stares at the back of his head, as he returns to searching for something, horror settling in his eyes that he had just insulted him without knowing how to avoid doing it. "Okay, no, that was too harsh, you don't have to call me that, I'm not that formal. Just call me _'Thaddy'_ or _'Thadd'_. Everyone else does."

Tzadkiel nods lightly. "Yes, Sir—Thaddeus—Thaddy—Sir."

There's a brief pause and the Warden snorts loudly and returns to his searching. "Okay. I'm not sure what that was. You spoke to fast. Just _'Thaddy'_ is fine." He finally finds what he had been searching for. "Ah, here it is!" He pulls an old leather jacket out of the closet and shakes it out a bit, his gaze settling on something beside him, something he can't see from where he sits. "Here, Zoph, you can wear this while you're out with papi, make sure to tell him you need a jacket of your own. And, yes, you can keep this one too." He jumps slightly when a boy appears, hopping up to his feet, he steps forward into the jacket as it's held open for him. "Have fun." Thaddeus—Thaddy guides him across his office, a puppy at the boy's side, and out the door.

It clicks behind him and he grows stiff.

"You've been avoiding me." He can hear him coming closer by his footsteps. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I—I'm not avoiding you, Sir!"

"I _thought_ I told you to call me _'Thaddy'_." Fingers brush through his curls, brushing them back, over his shoulders, fingers stroke gently over the side of his neck. "I don't _like_ being called _'Sir'_."

"I'm sorry, S—Thaddy!"

"That's much better!" A finger scratches behind his left ear, and he smiles, scrunching his shoulder up slightly. "Now, why have you been avoiding me?"

"I just—I just—I—"

"You're just shy, aren't you?" He hears amusement in the Warden's tone. "That's nothing to be ashamed of. I _love_ the shy ones."

A finger scratches under his other ear, and he breaths a soft giggle, scrunching up that shoulder too, making an apt impersonation of a tortoise.

"You're scrunching up pretty high there." He scratches his fingers down around the side of his neck, behind his shoulders, and up under his chin, and Tzadkiel giggles softly, twisting his head this way and that, leaning back to try and pull away from the slow torturous fingers. "One might say that your neck is a wee bit ticklish."

"J—Just a hehehe little bit."

"Just a _little_ bit?" He feels the fingers of the right hand pull away, they curl over his shoulder, the fingers of his left-hand curl around the side of his head as he pulls them apart. "Let's see just how ticklish this little neck is."

Tzadkiel's eyes widen when something scratchy rubs over the exposed side of his neck, and he realizes it's a beard, it feels the same way it does when Saba buries his face in the side of his neck and—"Eieiieaiaiahahahahahahhaha ahahahahahhahahaa!" Does that.

"Wow," the words are spoken against his neck and it makes him shriek softly. "I think that was just a bit more then _'a little bit'_ ticklish."

"You just caught me by su—eeiaiaiaiahaahahahhahaha ahahahahahhaha nohohhohohoo eeieiaiaaiahahahahaahha hahahahahahhaha!"

"Welcome to my Prison, Tzad, yes, I know your name is Tzadkiel, Tzad, I'm Thaddy, the Warden, your boss, and this is what I do to my shy guards." He presses a bit closer, preparing for another attack. "We have to break that ice."


	23. In The Throws Of A Temper Tantrum (Nisroc & Zophiel)

"Zoph, it's time to head back."

"Not yet, papi." The boy throws the ball again, watching his puppy guard chase after it happily, laughing when he jumps to catch it and tumbles over when he lands. "I'm playing."

"I can see that, but the sun is starting to set, and it's time to get you back."

"Not _yet_!" Qaspiel trots back to him and drops the ball at his feet, bouncing back, waiting for him to throw it again. "I'm _not_ done yet!"

Nisroc rests his hands on his hips and frowns. "Zophiel, stop throwing that ball and let's go, it's time to go back."

"No!" He throws the ball and the puppy chases after it. "Not yet!"

"Zophiel, I am not going to tell you again." Honestly, he feels for the boy, the only way he can leave the Prison is if he escorts him, and it's been a little while since their last excursion, they'd gotten some new trainees and he'd been rather busy as of late, this is the first time in two and a half weeks he's been able to get away long enough to be allowed to bring the boy out. "It's time to go."

The youngling throws his arms down, ball clutched firmly in his hand, and spins around. "Not _yet_ , papi, I'm _playing_!" He can see the signs of a temper tantrum from a mile away, and yep, there goes the petulant stomping. "I _don't_ want to go back _yet."_

"That's enough, Zophiel, I'm only going to tell you one more time, come, it's time to go."

_"No!"_ The young angel stomps his foot. "I don't _want_ to!"

Alright, enough is enough, he's given the boy plenty of time to follow his order, it was time to go, no amount of temper tantruming was going to change that. He sighs deeply, marching forward, he snags the youngling by the ear and pulls him forward. "When I tell you to do something, you better do so with haste, young man."

Qaspiel follows after them as they march from the Garden, silently, he knows better then to bark at him.

"Ow, papi, you're hurting me!" Zophiel curls his fingers around his wrist and tugs lightly, yelping when he tightens his grip around his ear. "Let go! It hurts!"

"You think this hurts, just wait and see what's in store for you when we get back."

His eyes widen at the implication of that statement, following briskly at the Captain's side as he leads him forward by the ear, his fingers curled tightly around his ear. "Papi, I'm sorry!"

"Oh, apologetic now, are we?" He guides him up the stairs to the Prison one by one. "Where did this big bad defiant young man go? The one who decided to throw a temper tantrum in the middle of the Garden, where'd he run off to?"

"Papi, I'm sorry, I won't do it again!"

"No, you will not." Nisroc nods to Aeshma as she pulls open the door and they march inside, down the hall towards the Warden's off and the stairs that lead to the upstairs. "I will ensure that." He looks down at the puppy trotting at his side and Qaspiel looks up at him. "You will wait in Thaddeus's office." The puppy guard barks softly, trotting over to the office door, squeezing in through the cracked door, and Nisroc turns them towards the stairs, pulling him upstairs to their living quarters. He opens the door to Thaddeus's room and pulls him around, marching him inside, closing the door behind them for privacy.

He brings him to stand in the middle of the room. "Bare yourself."

"Papi, no, please, I'm sorry!"

He squeezes the ear a tad bit firmer. " _Bare yourself."_

Zophiel sniffles, fumbling with the belt around his waist, tugging his trousers down slightly. Gulping softly, he stumbles forward when the Power moves, his grip on his ear unrelenting. "Papi, nooo!"

"Let me show you what happens to those who throw temper tantrums in front of me." He sits on the edge of the Warden's bed and pulls him around, letting go of his ear in favor of gripping his arm, Zophiel sniffles again as he's pulled over, overturned over the Captain's lap, his bare rear end raised in the air. "When I tell you to come, you had better come, or this is how we'll end every trip out." He stiffens when a large hand presses over his bare left cheek, whining softly when it pulls away, swinging up in the air, and cries out when it comes back down sharply, a resound smack echoing around them. A pattern forms, left then right, over and over again, and he squirms, crying out, pleading for him to stop, but the falls continue unperturbed. "I can't help it that you are stuck here, if it were up to me, you'd be allowed to come and go just as easy as your siblings can, but I can't change that you can't, when I take you out, I expect you to listen to me, when I say it's time to come back, there is no more waiting, there is no delaying, and there most certainly is no _temper tantrums_ , when I say it's time to come back then it's time to come back, am I understood?"

Zophiel nods frantically, crying into his hands, it wasn't fair, he'd had to wait almost a whole month before he'd been allowed outside, and he didn't mean in the atrium, well and truly outside, to the Garden, where they always went when he was taken out, he just hadn't wanted it to end so soon, and now he was in trouble, it wasn't fair. "I will! I will! Please, papi! No more! I'm sorry!"

"If you throw _another_ temper tantrum, we'll end up back in this _same_ position, do you understand me?"

"Yeeessssss! Papi! Hurts! It hurts!"

"Good angel." The rain of spanks stop, and he heaves a small sob, crying into his hands softly, stumbling up to his feet when he's guided up off the Captain's lap. Nisroc reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief, cleaning him up, mopping up his tears, and curls the cloth around his nose. "Give a blow, nieto." He sniffles, blowing softly into the handkerchief, and the Power rubs his nose clean, leaning over to the side slightly to tuck the cloth back in his pocket. He spotted it when they entered, the boy must have been staying with the Warden at the moment, perhaps because it had taken so long to get him out for the day. He reaches around for his beloved bear. "Here, it's alright, hug your bear."

The young prisoner hugs his bear tightly, sniffling pitifully, blinking down up at the Power as he stands up from the edge of the bed. Nisroc smiles down at him, curling his fingers under his arms, Zophiel hops up at the silent command for him to do so, and the Captain pulls him up into his arms. He curls his arms around his neck as he curls his arms under him, holding him up against his chest, the younger angel buries his face in the Power's shoulder, hugging his bear close to his side.

"I'm sorry, papi." He whispers softly. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

"I'm not mad, nieto." Nisroc rubs at the back of his head as he makes his way across the room and reopens the door as they make their leave, pulling it closed behind them, he makes his way downstairs slowly, rubbing at the back of the youth's head comfortingly. "I understand. I'll try and make time sooner for us to go out again. I'm sorry you had to wait that long."

"It's okay, papi." He mumbles quietly. "I know you're busy." He turns, pressing his nose against the Captain's neck. "Thank you, for taking me out, papi."

"You are most welcome, nieto, I love spending time with you." The Captain presses a kiss to the side of his head. "No more temper tantrums, okay?"

"Okay, papi."

He turns the corner, walking them into the Warden's office, Qaspiel and Thaddeus look up at them at their entrance. "Everything okay?"

The Captain nods lightly, sitting in one of the chairs across from him, the boy situated in his lap. "Everything's just fine."


	24. The Consequences Of Starting Fights (Thaddeus & Zander)

"Ow, Nis, you're hurting me!" He stumbles along after his Commander as he's escorted down the Axis by the ear, others part for them as they near, watching as they march passed, the Commander looking straight ahead, dragging the youngling behind him, moving briskly towards his destination. "Slow down!"

He tugs on his ear sharply and he hops forward, yelping in pain, Nisroc spares him a glance. "You'd better keep up, then."

Zander nods, jogging to keep up with his long stride, not wanting his ear to be tugged on again, it hurt, and he didn't like it.

His eyes widen at the familiar looming building before them, he hadn't been here since he'd been released, given a new guardian, and moved on from there. He feels a small pit of anger settle into his belly, anger at the one within, the one who promised to come visit him and check up on him to see how he was doing, the one who promised not to forget about him, and the one who never showed up.

The young trainee grumbles to himself as they make their way up the stairs towards the entrance, Aeshma opens the door for them, staring at him as they enter, and Temeluch replaces her stare as he closes the door, watching them march down the hall, in the direction of the Warden's office.

"Why are we here!"

"Because," his Commander spares him a look. "I feel as though it would be more memorable coming from him then it would from me."

Zander grumbles something under his breath, but the Power can't make out what was said, and honestly, he doesn't quite care either.

They stop outside the closed door, and the Power reaches up to knock, waiting for the occupant inside to call out, granting his request for entrance. The voice calls out, and Nisroc reaches for the door handle, twisting it to the left, the latch clicks open, and he pushes the door inwards.

Thaddeus looks up from what he'd been working on at their appearance, he quirks an eyebrow at the familiar looking youngling whose ear is held captive by the Power in front of him, looking up to his Commander for an explanation. "What happened?"

"Someone decided to pick a fight on the training field this afternoon." He drags him forward by the ear. "I thought it would be more memorable if you handled it over myself."

"I see," the Warden nods lightly, setting his pen down, he pushes his chair back as he stands. "I will most certainly handle it."

"Good." Nisroc squeezes his ear one last time, firmly, he yelps at the pain. "I leave him in your capable hands." He lets go of his ear and turns, walking out calmly, closing the office door behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the Warden's office.

Thaddeus crosses his arms and turns his attention to the boy, Zander glares at him heatedly, and he'll admit, he's slightly taken aback by the hostility. "Zander, that's unlike you."

"How would you know!" The boy snaps at him angrily, and he raises an eyebrow at the tone he uses. "You were never around!"

The Warden hums softly. "I've been busy cleaning things up, Zan."

" _Don't call me that!"_ He shouts, stomping forward, the Warden only raises his other eyebrow. "You—You lying, backstabbing, _asshole_!"

"Watch your language, Zander."

"You don't just get to pretend you didn't lie to me and that everything's fine!" He can see that the boy is upset at him, but doesn't quite know why, he tries to think it through, but comes up short. "You promised to visit me! You promised to keep an eye on me! I looked around for you! I waited for you! But you never showed up! You broke your promise, mr. _I don't make promises I don't keep_!"

Now he remembers, he nods to himself, he had promised the boy that he'd come visit him when he'd found him a new guardian, he'd given him his word, and admittedly, after everything that happened, he'd simply forgot his promise in the wake of having to clean up Theo's mess.

His mistake.

"You _promised_ to come and you _never_ came! You lied, you asshole, you lied to me!"

"Zander, I'm so sorry," he steps forward, most probably to offer the distressed boy some comfort, the guilt he feels for breaking his promise is immense, he'd always been fond of this particular boy. "I hate to admit it, but I forgot my promise."

"You _forgot_!" Zander stomps forward another step, glaring daggers at the older angel, daring him to come any closer. "You said you _loved_ me, and you _forgot_ about me, how can you _forget_ someone you _love!"_ That's when he does it, takes his anger, though justified, a step too far. When Thaddeus is in arms reach, he curls his fingers into a fist, reels his arm back, and throws his fist out, aiming for his face.

Thaddeus catches his fist, his punch was thrown rather sloppily in his anger, and spins him around, throwing a harsh smack to his rear end.

Even in his angered state, he feels the sting of the smack, and jumps forward when another rains down, another and another. He bounces in place, trying to lean away from him, but he's tugged back into place and the swats continue to rain down. "I understand you're angry, I do, and I know your anger is justified, I did you wrong, but that does _not_ mean you get to be as disrespectful as you're being, it especially doesn't mean you get to attempt and _punch_ me."

Zander yelps bouncing in place, his anger starting to dissipate as his bottom begins to sting slightly, and the throws don't stop. "Ow! Ow, Thaddy! I'm sorry! Ow! I was just so angry! Ow, ow, ow! Stop! Stop, Thaddy! I'm sorry!"

"This is just a warm up, for how you were acting, we haven't gotten to your punishment for picking a fight on the training field this morning."

His eyes widen as fingers curl around his ear once again, and he's tugged forward roughly, over to the closet, Thaddeus pulls the door open and reaches inside, withdrawing a worn leather belt from within, and pushes the door closed as he guides him around to the back of his desk.

The youngling is forced downwards when the Warden sits himself down in his chair, he sets the belt on his desk and reaches up for the button of his trousers, batting his hands away firmly when he tries to stop him, and tugs them down when he manages to undo the button. He yelps as he's tugged down over the older angel's lap, his knee raised slightly, his bottom sticking up just a tad bit more, his sit spots and thighs exposed.

"Thaddy, no! No! Please! I'm sorry! I was just so mad today! Not that! Please, Thaddy!"

His pleas go ignored, as the older angel picks the belt back up, presses it to his bottom, and pulls back. Zander tenses, waiting for it to come back down, trying to prepare himself for it, he knows it's going to hurt, it's going to hurt really bad. He hears it zip back down, and he shrieks, pushing himself up, bouncing in place, as it _thwaps_ across his bottom.

The Warden doesn't speak a word as he paints a stinging red path up and down the boy's bare pale bottom, eleven thrashes in, and he doesn't soften his blows as the boy begs him to between sobs. He lifts his knee a bit, the boy falls forward slightly, and he aims the next set of blows to the undercurve of his bottom. The boy shrieks again, between sobs, and starts kicking his legs, pushing himself forward, and in retaliation, he throws a particularly harsh thrash over his upper thighs, and the boy howls with his cries. "You stay there."

His bottom is an amber red by the time he throws his last thrash, his sobs rocking his chest, and he sets his belt down as he rights him up on his feet, tugging his trousers back up, he's sobbing into his hands, he won't do it himself. That's fine though, he's alright doing it on his own, the boy doesn't have to.

He curls his fingers around his waist and shakes him gently. "Don't you ever try and punch me _again_ , do you understand me?"

Zander nods frantically, finally pulling his hands away from his mouth to reach back and rub at his bottom profusely, as though he can rub away the sting.

"And, don't you ever instigate a fight on the training field again, either, understand?"

"Y..Yes Thaddy!"

"Good boy, now, come here." He pulls him down gently, to sit in his lap. "Come to Thaddy." He situates his stinging rear between his thighs and curls his arms around his waist as the boy lays against his chest, sobbing his little heart out. "Sshh, it's alright, sshhh. There, there. Sshhh, you're alright, it's alright, little one."

"T—Thaddy! I—I'm sorry!" The boy looks up at him, and he smiles softly, leaning in to press his lips to the tip of his tear slick nose. "I know, I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have forgotten my promise to you. But I'll make you a new promise, one that I'll be sure to keep, I'll come see you twice a week, how's that sound?"

Zander sniffles softly, having gotten his sobs under control. "P—Promise not t—to for—forget again?"

"I swear it on my honor and grace." He holds up a hand playfully. "I shall not forget this time, lest I be struck down."

The boy giggles softly, hiccupping lightly. "I'd like th—that Thaddy."

"Then, it's a plan." He kisses him on the nose again. "We're going to spend the next couple of days together, I'll clear my schedule, it's going to be just you and me, pal."

He sniffles again. "R—Really?"

"Really, really, for sure. You and me, pal, we're going to spend all day and all night together, just us. I'll make up for my wrong doing." He strokes his cheek lightly. "I'll make all your favorite meals, and we'll play all of your favorite games, and have lots of cuddles, I know how much you love your cuddles."

Zander gives him a small smile. "An—And tickles?"

"Oh, lots and lots of tickles, a good old fashion tickle torture, I haven't done that to you in ages. I'm going to rub my beard all over that belly, give it lots and lots of berries." Zander giggles softly as he curls his arms around his belly. "Nibble on those toes for an _hour_ , especially those little baby toes, oh they're going to get so many nibbles."

Zander giggles again, and he knows he's curling his toes up in his boots. "Not an _hour_! That's mean!"

"Oh, an entire _hour_ of toe nibbles, maybe a full thirty minutes on those baby toes alone, I know all about those particular toes, and we've so much time to catch up on." He pats him lightly on the side of his thigh. "I'm going to make you squirm and wiggle and shriek and squeal. All of the above. We've got a few years of tickles to catch up on."

He giggles again, pressing in closer. "Thaddy!"

"All those really special spots that make you shriek with laughter, and squeal and everything." He reaches up under with his right hand, he's too distracted by his proclamations of all that's going to come to notice it. "Like this one, right about…. _here_." He wiggles a finger into the inner undercurve of his left cheek, and the boy gives a hybrid of a shriek, a squeal, and a scream all mixed into one as he lifts himself up, tensing up as that finger wiggles in torturously, and cackles hysterically as he rocks from side to side and bounces up and down, trying to get away from that finger or dislodge it, it doesn't move, in fact, more fingers join it, until all four fingers are digging into that one _really_ bad spot and he gives off that hybrid noise again over and over and howls with cackly laughter. "You didn't think I forgot about this spot, did you, you're _worst_ tickle spot?"

He clenches up as he lifts himself higher, away from those torturous fingers on his most tickly tickle spot, for a few moments, before his muscles give out and he falls back down, back to those torturous fingers, and they dig back in again. He'd have fallen off his lap, he's squirming so hard, had it not been for the arm curled around his waist, both a blessing and a curse. He tries to form words, maybe to beg him to stop, or show him mercy, but nothing comes out but the hysterical cackles as those fingers continue their work.

"Coochie, coochie, coo, little zebra." He digs in a bit deeper and the boy howls. "Does that tickle right there?" He chuckles when the boy nods feverishly, kicking his legs wildly, trying to pull away from the arm that holds him in place. "Does that tickle really bad right there?" Zander nods frantically, his face growing red from his howling cackling laughter, as he tries to clench up again. "Good, good, maybe I should turn you back over my lap and have at that little spot until I'm done with my paper work, how would you like that, does that sound fun?"

The boy shakes his head desperately, smacking his hands, one down on his desk and the other over his chest, kicking his legs wildly, and he chuckles softly, giving one final wiggle to that special spot, and lets go. He sags over him, completely limp, wheezing breathlessly as his lungs begin the task of filling back up. "T—Thaddy…." He manages to get out between gasps. "So…So _mean_."

The Warden chuckles softly again, kissing him on the side of the head, and squeezes his hip playfully. "I can tell by what brought you here that you need more laughter, don't worry, I know the perfect way to cure that." Zander giggles breathlessly between wheezes as he rests himself against the older angels chest. "When I'm done here, we're gonna go upstairs, and I'm going to go at that little spot for ages. You need a proper good old tickle torture and I'm just the guy to deliver it."

"Thaddy, Nohoho!"

"Oh, Thaddy, yes." He reaches up to scratch at the side of the boy's head. "I'm going to get that spot, and this spot right here," he wiggles a few fingers over his lower waist. "Oh, and I can't forget this spot." He wiggles a finger directly to the right of his belly button. "All those little spots that drive you crazy." He finally relents, letting the boy relax against him, and curls his arm back around his waist as he scratches at the side of his head. "Unless you're sleeping, then we'll just nap, maybe we'll just take a good old nap."

"Can I take a nap now, Thaddy?"

He hums softly. "Sure, do you want me to take you upstairs or over to the cot?"

The youngling shakes his head. "Can I take a nap on your lap?"

Thaddeus chuckles softly, kissing him on the side of the head again. "My lap is always open for naps."


	25. Sharing The Secret (Sorath & Sabaoth)

It had been a rough day.

No matter how hard he tried to keep it from happening, there was days that _his_ words managed to get under his skin, this time he had reacted, reacted in anger, throwing the tray of food at the prisoner as he lunged forward, he managed one solid strike before he was yanked back. Arms wrapped around his waist, lifting him cleanly from his feet, tugging him backwards, he grabbed onto the sides of the cell door, trying to pull himself free of his captivity. More hands appeared, prying his fingers from around the cell bars, as he's carried backwards out of the exscribes cell. Someone slams the cell door shut, ordering the exiled angel within to shut the hell up and eat his supper, there was a complaint about it being on the floor, and the voice from his other side replied with the notion that it was a clean floor.

He's spun around, away from the cell, and his hands are released as he's carried forward, away from the cells, down to the break room at the end of the hall. He screams in anger when he's finally released, spinning on the one who had pulled him out, a red haze fallen over his vision, he swings at them. Warm fingers curl around his fist before it can make impact and spins him around, pinning him back against someone's chest, fingers curl around his other fist and his arms are curled tightly around his chest.

"You need to take a deep breath." A warm voice sounds in his right ear, and he growls, tugging against his confines. "Take a deep breath, Sorath." He grinds his teeth, but inhales deeply, just as he was ordered. He holds it until he's told to let it go, and when he does, he deflates against the taller angel behind him, falling back against his chest. "Better?" He nods silently and the arms around him loosen, but they don't release their grip on his fists, he huffs softly. "I'm good."

"You sure?" A bearded chin rubs against his right ear. "We can take a few more moments."

"I'm sure. I'm okay now. You can let go."

"Okay, if you're sure."

Sorath nods, turning when the arms uncurl from around him, Sabaoth smiles down at him when he turns to face him. "Better, little brother?"

"I'm better."

"Good," he nods lightly, curling his arm around his back, rubbing a soothing circle over his lower back. "Let's head back in then."

Sorath nods, letting his older brother guide him forward, out of the break room and back to their post outside of Metatron's cell. Osmadiel looks up at their approach, standing from Sorath's stool, stepping back to his own side of the hall. "Everything okay."

The older guard nods silently, rubbing another circle against his lower back, and then his hand moves, to rub over the back of his head. "We're good."

He guides the younger guard to sit on his stool, resting his hand on top of his head lightly, he turns to the scribe. "You keep your mouth shut for the rest of the evening." He holds up a finger when he opens his mouth. "If I hear another word, _I'll_ come in there, and we both know you don't want that." Metatron frowns, but nods, the older guard has a temper that can rival them all. It was not a fate that should be tempted.

Despite the fact that he remained quiet for the rest of the evening, his night had already been ruined, not even the thought of playing with his toy cars, as he was planning to do tonight, made him feel better. He was angry, beyond angry, and part of him weighed the pros and cons of trying to get passed his older brother again to get back into that cell.

He held off though.

He didn't want to make Sabaoth mad.

And, he didn't want his toys taken away.

He went to find Titus when they got off, only to be told that he was out on a mission, and he wouldn't be back for another three days. Nisroc had asked if there was anything he could do to help, but he shook his head, he didn't feel comfortable telling the Power Captain about that just yet. It was a personal secret, one that he kept close to his heart, there were few who knew about it, very, very few. Really, it was only two, him and Tus. Not even his old guardian knew.

And he really wanted it.

But Tus wasn't there to help him.

He thanks Nisroc for his time and his kindness, and the stuffed tiger he'd gotten him, and turned back for the stairs behind him. Taking them slowly, he sighed sadly as he turned down the hall that contained their bedrooms, he'd just return to his and crawl under the blankets, he didn't even feel like playing, that's how _bad_ he felt.

A noise caught his attention, the soft sound of someone humming to themselves, and he paused in the hallway before he could get to his own room. He turned to the source of the humming, spying between a cracked door, watching Sabaoth gather his long hair up into a bun on top of his head, pulling his rings off his fingers and set them on the top of shelf under the small mirror hanging on his wall.

He turns to the door more directly, raising his fist slightly, as though to knock on the door. But he pauses, hesitating, considering the odds on telling him his secret, when the doors pulled open in front of him.

"Sora?" He blinks at the call of his name, looking up to his older brother with wide eyes, he smiles down at him, tilting his head to the side. "What's wrong?"

"How did you know I was here?"

"I could see you from the corner of my eye." He smiles at him softly, he likes Sabaoth, he's so nice to him, like Tus is. "What can I do for you?"

Sorath takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and then exhales. He's nervous, what if Sabaoth thinks differently of him, what if he makes fun of him for it, what if he stops wanting to spend time with him, what if he thinks it's wrong—

"Sora?" He blinks out of his stupor, looking up into the concerned eyes of his new big brother, Sabaoth smiles at him softly. "Everything okay?"

He shuffles slightly. "Can I come in?"

The older guard nods without hesitation, opening his door wider, he gestures for him to enter at his own will. Sorath wrings his hands together as he enters, nodding to himself when he hears the click of the door closing behind him, feeling the warmth of his older brother as he comes to stand behind him. "Sora, what's on your mind?"

He inhales deeply, turning to face him, and he feels his cheeks heat up. "Promise you won't stop talking to me?"

"There is nothing you could do that would make me stop talking to you."

"Promise you won't think I'm bad?"

"Well, that depends on what it is." He rests his hands on his hips lightly. "What is it?"

Sorath looks down, staring at his feet, as he takes another deep breath. He holds it for a moment, and lets it go. He closes his eyes. "Ilikebeingtickled."

His older brother chuckles warmly. "One more time, I didn't quite catch that."

Sorath clutches his fingers into fists. "I..I like being tickled."

He waits.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He looks up to his older brother, Sabaoth nods, smiling at him gently. "Okay." Sorath smiles at him, his face heated, and looks back down to his feet, shuffling his boot against the stone floor under them. "Do you want me to tickle you?" He bites his lip and nods.

There's a bout of silence, and he closes his eyes, waiting for the dismissal.

He shrieks in surprise, eyes flying open, as he's lifted off his feet. His older brother smiles up at him, pressing his chin to his belly, holding him up. "I'd be glad to, baby brother." He giggles despite himself, the anticipation beginning to build within his belly, as his older brothers steps forward. Sabaoth chuckles at his giggling warmly, bending forward once they reach his bed, letting the younger guard fall backwards onto the mattress. Sorath shrieks as he falls backwards, winding his arms as he falls, bouncing on the mattress underneath him.

His older brother kneels at the end of the bed, trapping his feet as he undoes the laces of his boots, tugging them off his feet. "You are not getting your boots on my bed."

Sorath crawls backwards into the pillows as his older brother stalks forward, crawling over his legs, laying over them to keep him in place. "I don't even know where to start, and I should, I'm your big brother." He tilts his head slightly. "Where do you want tickles first?"

Sabaoth smiles at the adorable little giggles that spill from him, as he points to his belly, and he pokes a finger into the belly surface. "You want belly tickles?"

"Yes, please, Sabaoth."

"Call me Saba." He pokes his fingers into his belly. "Everyone else does."

"I want belly tickles, Saba."

"Okay, baby brother." He wiggles his fingers into his lower belly. "I can give you belly tickles."

Eventually he ends up with his tunic pulled up, his older brother's face buried in his belly, and he's squealing like a happy little fledgling.

Then they start wrestling, both trying to gain the upper hand, Saba wins.

And he ends up laying on top of his older brother, arms curled around his middle, fingers digging into his sides, and he shrieks with laughter, kicking and wiggling in his grasp.

Finally coming to rest against him, after another bout of wrestling, he lays between his older brothers legs, one of them bent upwards against his side. Fingers stroke through his hair lightly, stroking his hair back, rubbing at his head gently. His head resting on his stomach, rising and falling softly with every breath, comfortable where he lays.

"Feel better, baby brother?"

He nods against his brother stomach, humming softly, he closes his eyes for a moment. "Thanks, Saba…..." He turns into his stomach slightly, hiding his face. "Big brother."

Fingers scratch at the back of his head. "Anything for you baby brother." The fingers return to stroking through his hair. "Do you want to sleep in here tonight?"

"Can I get my dolphin first?"

"Of course you can, baby brother." He strokes his hand down the back of his head. "Let's go get your dolphin."


	26. Crossing Undrawn Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is before Thaddeus's redemption

They all stood silently in the background, watching the two Power's converse quietly, the medic checking the Prisoners vitals, his reactions, lifting his eyelids to see how they reacted to the light, though he was unconscious, laying haphazardly against the stone wall of his new cell, they had moved him closer so they weren't having to make the trek to the back end of the Prison to check in on him, they had never thought this would be the outcome of their well thought out decision.

Their new Warden stood in front of them, in the entrance of the cell, his arms crossed firmly as he spoke in hushed tones with the two other Powers.

They hadn't expected them all to have jumped the two disgraced Powers.

With his brother's help, Puriel and Titus managed to lift the unconscious prisoner onto his cot, his wounds bound in bandages, his head lulling to the side as he was set down, completely limp in their hands.

They shifted slightly when their captain stepped out of the cell, rubbing his hands together, he glared at them all, and they shifted again, averting their gazes, well, all except Osmadiel, he continued to glare into the cell over their captain's shoulder. "Seeing as it was a prisoner you all decided to harm unprovoked, this matter is out of my hands, you'll all be dealt with by the Warden." They all shifted their gaze over to the oldest Power, conversing softly with their medic on the wellbeing of his Prisoner, the medic rubbed at the back of his neck and peered back over his shoulder, they had done a good number on him.

Nodding sharply, he thanked the medic stiffly, inhaling deeply for a moment, running his fingers through his hair, he turned to face the gaggle of guards, they all shift slightly on their feet, refusing to meet his eyes, and he takes them all in silently. Sorath bites his lip harshly, hanging onto his older brother's arm tightly, standing behind his shoulder, as though hiding away from the world around him. Osmadiel glares at him, he raised his eyes brows and that glare averted to the spot beside his head, defiant as ever. Sabaoth appeared guilty, he hadn't touched the Prisoner, but he'd stood by and allowed the others to act on their compromised judgement. Rahab's chewing on her lip worriedly, her fingers curled around Osmadiel's upper arm, looking down to the floor beneath them in shame. Temeluch and Aeshma stood in the doorway, feeling guilty for having snitched and sending them to their demise, but they were tasked with keeping the Prison, even if it meant turning on their fellow guards.

"You're all relieved of your duties for today." They all flinch at his tone, little Sora even whimpers slightly, pressing his cheek to his older brother's arm. "You'll be coming with me." They turn to follow the Captain as he steps forward, between Aeshma and Temeluch, keeping a pace behind him as he leads them from the Prison and down the steps to the Axis below, other turn to watch them as they march by, behind the fuming Power, parting to get out of his way as he cuts through the crowd, not wanting to face the oldest Power's fury themselves, they cleared away for him as he passed through.

They cross through the Training Field silently, keeping at the Power's back, making sure to not fall behind in pace, in case he turned to look at them from over his shoulder.

The Power leads them down the hall, behind the stairs that led to the Pavilion, passed the barracks for the warriors, and down the hall to an empty office, his office, Sabaoth and Osmadiel have been in this office a number of times, it's never a good time to be brought into this office when he's in that kind of mood. Sorath whines softly, when the Power slams the door shut behind him, pressing his face into his older brother's arm. Saba sighs softly, curling his arm around the younger angel's shoulders, pressing him against his side in comfort.

Nisroc steps around Osmadiel, coming to stand before the four of them, crossing his arms firmly.

"Have you anything to say for yourselves?"

Rahab is the first one to break, breathing a sob into her hands, her shoulders rising as she cries into her fingers. "I—I'm sorry! I—I'm so bad! I—I shouldn't b—be a guard an—anymore! I'm su—supposed to pro—protect p—people and I hu—hurt him!"

"Rahab—"

"Y—Your so a—angry no—now and T—Tus is g—going t—to b—be so d—disappointed! I—I'm s—so s—sorry!"

"Ra—"

"I—I'm so—sorry! P—Please do—don't h—hate u—us no—now!"

"Hey," she blinks at the proximity of his voice, blinking her eyes open, blinking passed the tears, two warm hands are cradling her cheeks gently, thumbs rubbing the tears away. "I couldn't hate you for anything, little sprite, yes, I'm mad, but that doesn't mean I hate you." He smiles down at her gently. "Understand?" She nods, stepping forward to hug herself close to him, and he curls his arms around her tightly, letting her press as close as she needs to for her to calm down her sobs. He rubs her back gently, looking back up at the others, frowning at them each in disappointment, Sorath whines and ducks into Sabaoth's side.

"What you all did is unacceptable, you could have killed him had Aeshma and Teme not have spotted Titus walking passed, you are stationed there to protect, not to harm." He rubs Rahab's back gently. "I won't have this in _my_ Prison, do I make myself clear?"

They nod stiffly.

"Good." He looks down at the little guard hugging herself to his front, strokes his hand down the back of her head, and pulls her away slightly. "Ra, it's okay, I don't hate you, I promise." She nods, sniffling softly, rubbing at her nose with the back of her left hand. "Go stand with Osmadiel, alright?" She nods, pulling away from him, and rushes back to her partners side, clutching at his arm again, pressing her cheek to his sleeve.

"Right, now, what to do with you all." He gestures for the oldest one to step forward, Sabaoth nods lightly, tugging Sora away from his side gently, reassuring him that everything was going to be okay, and steps away from him, Sora whimpers as he goes, he can feel just how angry the Power is, he doesn't like it, the last time someone had used that tone and their eyes had shone with that light, Tus had dragged him to the Garden and switched him until he was limp over the overturned tree, he didn't want that again, he immediately ducked to his other side, curling behind Osmadiel's free arm. The older guard curled his arm around him gently, letting his duck into his side. "I will do to you the same as I would anyone of my warriors who attacked someone unprovoked, someone they were assigned to protect, attacked someone who could not defend themselves properly." Sabaoth is silent as ever, trying to maintain an air around him to provide comfort for his younger siblings in this tight knit family they had, facing his old guardian calmly, Nisroc could see the unease in his eyes, the guilt for disappointing them, he may not have actually raised his hand to the two other prisoners, but standing back as the others did was equally unacceptable. He nods to his side. "Get the belt, Sabaoth."

The oldest guard falters slightly, his shoulders curving inwards at the command, but he recovers, nodding quickly and turns to his right, for the mini wardrobe along the far wall, in which he kept a second set of ceremonial robes, a second cloak, and a change of tunics and trousers. He could redress himself without having to take the path all the way up to his room above them, change and return in quick succession. Inside the right door is a hook, hanging from the hook is an old leather belt, it could have been the same belt he had when he was a fledgling, shadowing the eldest Power in everything he did. He couldn't be sure though and didn't have the time to dwell on it nor examine it close enough for any tell signs to his theory. He returns to his position before the Captain, his back facing the other three guards, and holds the object out to him. Large warm fingers rub against his as the Power curls them around the leather belt, pulling it gently from his grasp.

He folds it over, curling the buckle inwards to keep the risk of it digging in as low as the risk could possibly be, and stares down at the guard, Sabaoth and Osmadial are tall, but not nearly as tall as he is, he still has a few inches on them. Maybe a foot or more on the shorter of the four guards, Rahab barely comes passed his stomach, Sorath a bit shorter than that. "Do you think you should have to bare yourself, or, do you think you shouldn't?"

Sabaoth swallows thickly, perhaps more upset with himself in angering and disappointing his captain and old guardian, then he was about the lashing he was about to face, he looks to his boots silently. "I think I should bare myself."

"Why?" His tone is sharp, but there are underlying hints of fondness, a tad of forgiveness in there with it, Nisroc was an angel to avoid when you angered him but he was a forgiving angel as well.

"Because I stood by and allowed them to harm him, I knew I should have stopped them and I didn't, I have an image I'm meant to uphold for them in how we act, and I failed. Standing by as one is harmed is just as bad as striking them is."

"Good, I've never had to explain to you just what you had done that was wrong." The Captain nods towards his desk. "Bare yourself and lean over."

Sabaoth nods slightly, shrugging off his outer vest, setting it to drape over the edge of the desk, tugs his trousers down slightly, and bends over the edge of the desk, the muscles in his back tensing in anticipation.

Nisroc turns to face the others as the oldest guard lays there, arms crossed before him, perhaps for him to hide his face in when he broke, to keep the others from seeing. "I want you all to watch, to see what is coming your way."

Sorath and Rahab nod silently, tucking further into Osmadiel, until it was just eyes peering from behind his arms. The second oldest guard set his jaw, glaring back at him defiantly, almost as if he was challenging the older angel in doing that to him. He narrows his eyes at him, his expression growing firmer, his fingers curling tighter around his belt. "Keep challenging me, Osmadiel, I can make this ten times worse for you."

"I'm not frightened." He lifts his chin lightly in defiance. "You do what you have to do."

"We'll see."

He turns swiftly, pulling his arm back as he did, and swung it forward harshly. The _'whap'_ that it created as it bit into their brother's bare bottom was loud and sharp, the calm and collect guard yelped slightly, quietly, biting his lip as he jolted forward. Ducking down into his folded arms when the belt whistles back again, there's a moment of pause, and it whistles again as it's swung forward. The strike is just as loud and sharp as the first one was, Saba jumps forward slightly, a small sound of distress escaping him by the time they reach the fifth strike, they're all slightly surprised he'd managed to hold himself like he had for that amount of time, the Captain wasn't pulling strikes, they were firm and harsh, a certain amount of strength behind them. To make this as memorable as possible. He's sobbing softly by the sixteenth, pleading for him to stop by the time they reach the end at twenty lashes. Nisroc sets the belt down on the side of the desk and eases the guards trousers up, helping him stand straight again, he turns him to face him, smiling softly, rubbing away leaking tears with his thumbs as he whispers something to the oldest guard, something the others aren't privy to, and he pulls him into a brief hug, rubbing at the back of his head soothing as the guard presses his face to the side of his neck.

Sorath struggles against it, hiding in Osmadiel's side, shaking his head frantically as the Power waves him forward. Nisroc sighs and Sabaoth offers a suggestion, at the Captain's permission, and seeing the youngest guard so worked up brings him to nod in approval to the suggestion. Sabaoth gently pries the young guards' fingers from their brother's tunic and leads him forward, he shakes like a leaf as he comes to stand before the desk, shaking his head as he whimpers and cries about how sorry he is. Nisroc has to steel his nerves, because, damnit, the little angel has him wrapped around his finger. The older guard whispers down to him soothingly, reaching down to tug the back of his trousers down, before curling him in his arms. He pushes against him at first, shaking his head, he wants no part in this and especially on his bare bottom, but then the belt comes down for the first time and he shrieks, jumping forward, pushing his older brother back softly, he bumps into the desk. He feels him rest his chin over his curls, fingers tangling in the curls on the back of his head, whispering down to him soothingly as the belt comes down again, and again. It comes down again and again, and he clutches at the front of his older brother's tunic, sobbing softly at the sting each strike brings. He jumps at the last two, they're the hardest, sobbing into his older brother's chest quietly, and Sabaoth curls around him, big enough that he can envelope him in his hug and hide him from the world around them. Warm fingers brush over his waist as they pull his trousers up again, and he's hugged from behind, a beard brushes over his ear as he whispers down to him. He asks if he wants tickles and cuddles later, and he nods, those would make him feel better. The beard rubs over the side of his forehead as he kisses him, patting the small of his back lightly, he lets them step away, back to their group. Sorath curls around Sabaoth, and the older angel reenvelopes him in his hug, swaying them from side to side, as he tangles his fingers back into the curls on the back of his head.

Rahab's next, she cries softly, still upset for having made them both so angry and disappointed, as she tugs her trousers down slightly, stretching over the edge of the desk like Sabaoth had. Nisroc sighs softly as he pulls his arm back, despite what some may think, he doesn't like having to do this. He doesn't like seeing his younger brothers and sisters cry like this. She jumps, shrieking lightly, when the first blow comes down. It's harsh, Nisroc doesn't pull his throws for anyone, whether they be male or female, he treats them all the same. She hops slightly as they come again and again, sobbing into her hands softly, waiting for it to end patiently, and when it does, he barely has time to set his belt down as she's jumping at him, tugging her trousers back up, clutching herself to him tightly. He sighs again, wrapping his arms around her, whispering down to her gently, promising that he doesn't hate her and that it's all okay now, that she's forgiven and it's fine. Rahab has low self-esteem, as he comes to realize, he'll have to talk to Titus about it. See if he knows, and if not, find a way to deal with it appropriately.

He pulls her back slightly, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs, as he cradles her face. "I don't hate you, Ra, I swear to you I don't, okay?" She nods meekly, rubbing at her nose with the back of her hand, and he smiles down at her, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear, as he guides her around with a hand on the small of her back. She rushes forward to stand next to Sabaoth, he curls his arm around her, keeping Sora close to his chest, and she leans into his side lightly.

Osmadiel is stubborn about it, he forces the Power to come get him, he drags his feet, putting it off for as long as he can. His eyes widen when the Power orders him to stay put, and leaves them for a moment, what causes him to crack is what he sees when he returns, Nisroc makes mention of the language he'd been using when he'd gotten to the Prison, and orders him to open his mouth. He shakes his head frantically, what gets him is the soap, he hates the lashing just as much as the next guy, but the soap gets to him the worst, it's gross and nasty and tastes so bad, he hates that the most. The Captain orders him to open his mouth again, tone lower, calmer, and a calm and angry Nisroc is not a Nisroc you want to meet, when he doesn't, the Power reaches up and pries his mouth open and shoves the bar of soap in. Osmadiel inhales deeply. "Don't you _dare_ spit it out, Osmadiel." The second oldest guard feels a tear drip down his cheek, the soap always gets him, and he's turned around forcibly, his trousers tugged down slightly, and pushed over the edge of the desk. He doesn't make a sound at the first strike, nor when they reach the fifth, but when they reach the tenth he starts to whimper softly, by the fifteenth he's got tears streaming down his face, and by the twentieth, he's sobbing around the bar of soap. Two warm hands tug his trousers back up, then they curl around his arms, pulling him around to face him. Os inhales deeply, breathing out a quiet sob around the bar of soap in his mouth.

"If I ever, and I mean _ever,_ hear you use that language again, you will sit with that bar of soap in your mouth for an _hour,_ do you understand me?"

Osmadiel nods with another sob, and Nisroc nods at him firmly, reaching up to pull the soap from his mouth. He passes him a glass of water to down as he sets the soap down on is desk. Os downs the glass of water and makes a face at the aftertaste of the soap. The Power opens his arms for him and the stubborn little guard sniffles softly, falling forward into those arms, letting them close around him completely. Sighing softly as a large warm hand rubs at his lower back. A bearded chin rubs over his forehead as a pair of lips press against it.

Someone knocks at the door softly, and he calls for them to enter from over Osmadiel's shoulder, rubbing at the back of his head lightly. Titus appears then, opening the door slowly, peering in to see the state of his four guards. Sora and Ra cry harder at the sight of him, throwing themselves at him, spluttering apologies and begging him not to hate them, and he heaves a sigh, hugging them close, assuring them that he could never hate them.

Sabaoth smiles at him lightly, ducking his head slightly as he ducks back to his old guardian's side, Nisroc curls his other arm around him in turn, rubbing their cheeks together.

Titus smiles at his older brother, his two youngest guards curled against his sides, clutching at his tunic. "I'll take these two with me, you keep Saba and Os."

"Deal," Nisroc smiles down at Sorath gently. "We'll get together later, okay, Sora?"

Sorath nods lightly, rubbing his cheek against his captain's arm, turning with him as he guides them from the Captain's office.

He looks up at his captain when they reach the Lounge. "What are we doing now, Tus?"

"We're going to go lay down, now, Sora." He nods. "And, I already got your dolphin." Sora smiles as they walk down the hall towards his captain's room. "We're going to go lay down together." Rahab looks up at him with red rimmed eyes. "Are we gonna cuddle, Tus?"

"Yes, little sprite, we're going to cuddle."


	27. Sneaking Out (Thaddeus & Jahoel)

"Yo." He jumps at the unexpected voice, nearly dropping the cup of coffee he holds in his hand, his wide eyes look up at the sound of the voice, meeting those of amber, sitting behind his desk, one of his files held open in front of them. "How was your night?"

"You!" He stalks forward, setting his mug on the side of his desk, and crosses behind to the younger angel sitting in the leather chair, he snatches the file up out of his hands. "Those are private. Not for prying eyes."

"Please," he waves a hand flippantly. "Everyone knows about _his_ crimes."

The older angel pulls the wheeled chair back. "Come on, you, up." He curls his fingers into the collar of the younger angel's tunic, pulling him up from the chair, marching (read: dragging) him out from behind his desk. "It's bad enough that you manage to get out of your cell to sleep in here, you'd don't get to come out unless I let you out."

"Oh, come on, Thadd," he drags his feet trying to stay the inevitable, Sabaoth waits for them outside his cell, holding his tray of breakfast, the guard raises an eyebrow at the sight of them. "It's boring in there!"

"It's supposed to be boring!" Thaddeus pulls the cell door open and shoves the young angel inside. "You're being punished!"

"I didn't even do anything that wrong!"

"Sure, you little kleptomaniac." He nods for the guard to step forward, Sabaoth snorts softly, but moves to his side. The little prisoner turns to the Warden. "Can I at least have a hug before you leave me here to my lonesome?"

The Warden heaves a sigh, nodding lightly, opening his arms for the little prisoner. Jahoel smirks, stepping forward quickly to curl around the tall Warden, resting his head against his shoulder, peering over his shoulder as he reaches around his waist, the Warden's arms curl around him in turn, and it's only the guard who witnesses him lifting the ring of keys off the hook on the Warden's belt. Two large warm hands curl around his shoulders and pull him back, he curls the ring of keys up into his fingers and steps back when he's pushed. "There, you had your hug, now in you go."

"Okay, okay, I'll go, but just know that this is cruel and unusual punishment."

"I'll take note of it." Sabaoth steps around the Warden's side to pass him his tray of breakfast; toast, eggs, and bacon. Jahoel looks down at it and makes a face. "Yay, the same thing we have _every_ day." He sets the tray down on the little table beside him, turning back to the Warden. "Can you come up with a new menu item?"

"I'll look into it."

"Thanks, Thaddy!" He shakes his head as the mischievous little thief sits at his table, digging into his morning meal. He looks up when he realizes he's still there, Thaddeus points a finger at him sternly. "Stay."

Jahoel nods lightly, waving him away, and Thaddeus watches him with narrowed eyes for a brief time before nodding, turning back towards his office, and stepping away. The young angel sets his bacon over his toast and scoops his eggs over top of them, topping it off with the other piece of toast, he makes himself a bacon and egg sandwich, and takes a bite. Smirking to himself, he leans forward, peering around the right edge, making sure no one was coming, then he peers down the left, smirking again when he realizes no one is there, and swings the ring of keys around his finger.

He finishes off his breakfast sandwich, washing it down with a glass of juice, Sabaoth had given him coffee once. He'd bounced off the walls once. He hadn't had coffee since. Stacking the plate, cup, and silverware on top of each other, because he enjoys being difficult for the guard who comes to collect his breakfast tray. He stands from his chair, walking around the table silently, leaning against the bars of his cell door as he spies down the halls again, smiling when no one appears and reaches out between the bars with the ring of keys, slipping the key into the lock, he turns it, the tumblers click, and he pushes the cell door open softly.

Oh, sweet, sweet freedom.

He trapezes down the hall freely, waving to the others as he passes them by, swinging the ring of keys around his finger as he makes his way down the hall.

Sabaoth looks up at the sound of foot steps behind him, shaking his head at the sight of the prisoner walking towards them, he knows this one, he knew it was only a matter of time before he made his escape with those keys.

"Hello, Jahoel, I see he still hasn't noticed you took his keys?"

The younger angel snorts, holding them up for him to see. "Nope."

" _Jahoel."_

The oldest guard makes a face at him. "Oh, it seems your luck has run out."

Thaddeus stalks down the hall towards them, and he quickly hides the keys behind his back, not his best act, and offers the Warden and bright smile, waving with his free hand. "Hi, Thadd."

He shakes his head, coming to stand before him, Jahoel never realized just how tall he was until now. He looks down as he holds a hand out, flexing his fingers lightly, and looks back up at the Warden. "Give them back."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"My keys, Jahoel, hand them over."

"Keys?" He tilts his head. "You have keys?"

Thaddeus doesn't seem impressed, his free hand snapping out, fingers curling around his right ear, tugging on it firmly. Jahoel makes a face, yelping at the sharp ache, leaning to the side at the tugging. "I _had_ keys." He leans forward. "Until a little kleptomaniac of mine took them." He flexes his fingers again. "Hand them over."

"I— _ouch—_ don't have any— _oww—_ keys."

He tugs on his ear sharply, it tugs him forward, and his eyes widen as the Warden leans down. "Give. Me. My. Keys."

Jahoel stares up at him with wide eyes, silently passing over the keys, setting them down in his outstretched hand. Thaddeus stares down at him for a moment, curling his fingers around the ring of keys, reaching back to hook them back on his belt. "Don't you _ever_ take my keys again; do you understand me?"

The younger angel nods meekly. "I understand."

"Good boy," the mood lightens, his fingers tugging at his ear in a playful manner, and he smiles at him as he leans back. "Come on, you're coming with me."

"Aww, are you putting me back in my cell?"

"No, you'd only manage to get yourself out." He waves to the guards as he's tugged forward, back down the hall, they wave back. "We're going to look over the menu."

"Oh, my Father." Jahoel looks up at him, tugging on the side of his tunic lightly. "Can we have hotcakes sometimes?"

Thaddeus snorts, shaking his head fondly. "Only good angels get hotcakes."

"I _am_ a good angel!"

"You stole my keys."

He amends. "I am a good angel, _sometimes_."

Laughing softly, he pushes him lightly into his office, Jahoel smiles, darting forward for the leather chair behind the Warden's desk, he reaches for one of the folders, but their tugged away as the Warden sits in one of the chairs across from him. "I'll think about the hotcakes."

The younger angel pumps his fist above his head. "Yes!"


	28. The Kleptomaniac (Thaddeus & Jahoel)

He stayed in his cell that night, Thaddeus had locked his office door the night before when he made his leave for the night, so the Warden figured that it was more so on the fact that the little guy couldn't get in, and that was the reason he was sleeping in his cell, outside of him actually staying there because he was supposed to.

Jahoel groans softly at the sound of boots stomping down the hallway outside his cell, four feet, two people, marching down the hall at day break was not how he wanted to be woken up that morning. Breakfast wasn't until ten, and everyone came to work at eight, leaving him two hours to continue sleeping before he needed to get up to eat. Uncurling from under his blanket, he pokes his head out, resting his chin on the pillow as two shadows fall over the front of his cell, he brushes his curls back to peer up at them.

Thaddeus smiles down at him, waving a few fingers in greeting. "Good morning, Jahoel, sleep well?"

"Ugh, it's still too early, go away." He makes to curl back under his blanket, pausing at the sound of a stool being set down outside his cell, he turns back up to watch the other being next to the Warden sit upon the stool in front of his cell. What was this fool doing? "Umm, sorry sir, loitering isn't allowed."

The Warden smiles down at him again. "This is Marmaroth." He gestures to the new guard. "He's going to be _your_ guard."

The young thief pushes himself up onto his elbows, staring between the two older angels, from one to the other. " _My_ guard?"

"All yours." He nods. "He's here to make sure you stay put."

"He's _babysitting_ me?"

"You wouldn't need babysitter if you'd stay in your _cell_ like you're _supposed_ to."

Jaheol stares at him for a moment and groans, curling back under his blanket, letting himself be pulled back into slumbers grasp. The Warden smiles at the sleeping little angel, nodding down to the guard as he turns, Marmaroth looks up at him. "Breakfast is in two hours, he'll try to get out after he's done eating, keep an eye on him." He looks down to the sleeping mound under the blanket fondly. "He's a slippery one."

"I've got it handled, sir." Marmaroth nods in assurance. "He'll remain within this cell."

Thaddeus didn't seem convinced, but he didn't speak on it, he just nodded, patting the guard on the shoulder as he stepped passed him, pulling his ring of keys off his belt to unlock the door to his office.

…

He leans against the bars of his cell, arms crossed around them, staring down at the guard outside. Marmaroth was ignoring him, but Jahoel was observant, he knew he was starting to get on his nerves.

"Hello?" Silence. "Can you talk?" More silence. "I mean, I don't judge, it's okay if you can't." A small intake of breath. "Is Saba coming? I'm hungry." Nothing but silence. "It's okay if you don't like me. Not everyone has good taste."

Boots echo from down the hall, he knows who it is, he turns away from the guard at his door to look over at the one approaching from down the hall. Sabaoth smiles at Marmaroth as he approaches. "Hello, Marmaroth," he spares the prisoner a glance. "I hope he's not being too much."

"Not at all."

"Oh!" Jahoel looks down at guard outside his cell. "You can talk!"

Shaking his head, the head guard reaches for the set of keys on his belt, sticking one into the key hole of the door and turns it, listening to the tumblers click open, and pulls the cell door open slightly, passing in the tray.

It's hotcakes.

"Be nice, Oel."

He takes the tray hungrily, turning to the small table to set it down on. "I'm always nice."

"Jahoel."

The young prisoner looks up at him, tearing a piece of the hotcake off and plops it in his mouth, nodding his head slightly. "I am."

Sabaoth purses his lips at him and turns back to the guard next to him. "If you need any help with him, just come get me," he spares the thief a glance. "Or Thaddeus."

"Or, _or_ , you could not." Jahoel points a finger at him. The older guard smirks slightly. "Then, behave."

The little prisoner nods, sitting in the chair at his small table, digging into his hotcakes. Sabaoth watches him for a moment, and whispers a soft comment to the other guard, before making his leave again. Jahoel eats in silence, enjoying the hotcakes, happy that the Warden had kept true on his word, he tears pieces of the sweet hotcake off and plops them in his mouth happily, content to sit in his cell and eat his tasty breakfast.

It wasn't until he was done that he'd get bored.

He swallows the last piece of his hotcakes and pushes his tray away, washing it down with a glass of juice, and stands from his chair, returning to his position of leaning against the cell bars. He sees Marmaroth tense in preparation of his day. "Hey Mar, can I call you that?" He nods to himself. "I'm going to call you 'Mar'." He reaches forward, trying to touch the guards hair, but he leans away from him. "Oh, come on! I'm not going to do anything. Come on, Mar." He continues on for maybe, thirty minutes, before the older angel has enough. He stands from his stool stiffly, turning away from the annoying prisoner, and stalks down the hall. Jahoel presses against the bars as he watches him go. "Oh, come on Mar! Come back!"

He sighed, reaching back for the pin holding his curls back, swiping them back out of his eyes as they fell forward, and leaned over the bars above the lock, reaching through the bars, he sticks the pin into the key hole. All it takes is a brief twist of the pin, a slight nudge, and the tumbler turns, the cell door opening for him. Pulling his curls back, he sticks the pin back in, and steps out of his cell with a slight bounce. He kicks the cell door shut behind him lightly, wandering forward, waving his fingers at the others as he passed them.

Jahoel smiles slightly, staring at their unassuming backs, and steps forward. He tugs lightly at the guard's hair as he comes to stand behind him, he reaches back to catch whatever is tugging and he pulls his hand away quickly, the hand goes away, and he reaches forward again.

This time the hand that comes back is quicker, fingers curl around his wrist as he gets tugged around, and he laughs as he stumbles around, tumbling over into the tall guard's lap. "Where did Marmaroth go?"

"Mar?" He shrugs, leaning back against the guard's arm. "I don't know, he just got up and left."

"And," Sabaoth tugs at his curls lightly. "How long did you purposefully stand there and annoy him?"

The young angel looks up at him. "Annoy him?" He shakes his head. "No, no, I was just trying to make a friend."

"I'm sure you were."

Jahoel nods up at him. "I was, I swear."

"Sure, okay, I believe _that_." They all knew Jahoel, he was a regular 'visitor'. Cell 397 was his cell, it was always open for him, he came that often, he had itchy fingers, always picking stuff off of anyone he could, consequently, that was why he always ended up back here. The punishment never seemed to change anything. "You better not take anything from _me_."

"I wouldn't," he shrugs lightly. "You have nothing I want."

"That makes me feel oh so much better."

"It should." Jahoel turns to look at the guard across from them, Osmadiel is resting back against the corner lightly, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed. The little offender reaches out, poking him in the arm lightly. "Hey, Os, hey, hey, Os, whatcha doin, Os, wake up Os." The resting guard reaches up and smacks his hand lightly. "Bad, little pest, don't bother a sleeping Os." Jahoel waited a moment, until the guard settled back down, to reach out and poke him again. He swats his hand again. "Bad, bad little pest, no poking the sleeping Os." He snorts softly but stops poking him.

He turns to the youngest guard. "Nice car, Sora."

Sorath smiles up at him, running his toy car up and down his thigh. "Thanks, Oel."

"You're welcome, Sora."

Sabaoth tugs at his curls again. "No taking anything from Sora, either."

The young prisoner looks up at him, pressing a hand to his chest, as though he was offended. "I would _never_ take anything from Sora. He's too innocent. I would never want to make him upset."

"I knew you had a heart in there somewhere."

"I do," he huffs, turning back to lean against the guard's arm more comfortably. "It's just well protected."

He sighs sadly from above him. "I know."

Jahoel kept most people at arms length, better to save yourself the heartache then to set yourself up for it, in his opinion, and that's what he did, he protected himself by isolating himself. He'd opened up to a few others though, them, for example, he'd opened up to them. Let them into the fortress that was his heart, hence the reason he was so comfortable making himself comfortable over the oldest guard's lap, and to poke a resting Osmadiel. He was also opening himself up to their Warden, they could see it, though they doubted Thaddeus did, he hadn't known Jahoel as long as they had. Jahoel had been one of the lucky few to be forgotten about during that reign of terror the Prisons history was blemished with, he could be as silent as the night when he wanted to be, you could walk right passed him and not even realize he was there, it was a blessing and a curse, but that didn't mean he hadn't heard the rumors of what the Warden had done, the horrible, terrible things.

They often wondered how he had reacted during his first 'torture' session, clearly it hadn't ended that bad, he was opening up to the Warden, after all, but they doubted the beginning was pleasant.

But all that mattered was the ending, and it was clearly a nice ending, seeing as Jahoel had begun to let him into his heart.

Of course, their moment of companionable silence had to be interrupted, by that obnoxious scribe no less. "They should keep you here, you always come back, it would save everyone so much time. You're nothing but a lost cause."

Jahoel huffs, leaning forward, glaring at the prisoner within the cell next to them. "If I had a dollar for every smart thing you say. I'd be poor."

"You little roach. You're nothing but a lowly miracle worker. And you can't even do that right."

He shrugs. "Everyone seems normal until you get to know them." He sends the scribe a pointed look and tilts his head sarcastically. "I guess we were both disappointed, weren't we?"

"I am _The Scribe_ of _God?_ " Metatron snaps harshly, looking the lounging young prisoner over with distaste. "Who are _you_ again? No one _noteworthy._ "

"If I wanted to kill myself, I would climb your ego," he raises his hand up, leveling it out, as if to indicate how large it was. "And jump to your IQ." He lowers his hand, leaning over the guard's lap, bracing his other hand over the guard's knee, as he presses his hand to the floor.

"At least I was a _somebody_."

"So, you don't deny that your IQ level is about as high as the floor under our feet?" Jahoel rubs at his chin, settling back against Sabaoth's arm. "Interesting, interesting."

"I—My—You—" The older prisoner splutters hotly. "You little _brat_!"

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings when I called you stupid. I thought you already knew."

"I'll have you know—"

"If karma doesn't hit you, I gladly will."

Even Osmadiel woke up to watch them, little Jahoel could put his sarcastic ways to same, he was a natural, _'born'_ with it flowing through his veins.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I'm not usually one to get dirty, but I'd be willing to take some of your germs." He makes a face. "As long as your idiocy doesn't wipe off on me because that would be just yuckiness."

Metatron splutters indignantly. "How dare you—"

"Oh, now you're clearly upset," Jahoel leans forward again, miming himself holding a pad of paper and a pencil. "Tell me how I've upset you, because I want to know how to do it again."

"The sheer audacity!" Metatron spits at him. "You have no respect for your betters!"

"I'd agree with you but then we'd both be wrong." He presses his hand to Sabaoth's chest. "I respect Saba."

The guard snorts under him. "Only because I feed you."

"It helps me to respect you, yes, but the fact that I do remains."

Metatron spits at their feet. " _He_ is not your better."

"Buddy, I think you better reevaluate who these _'betters'_ are," Jahoel leans back into his comfortable position. "I'm not the one locked in a cell."

"You _little_ —"

"Metatron," Sabaoth interjects as he can see the argument starting to rise into dangerous territory. "Be silent. Your voice is giving me a headache."

The Scribe huffs indignantly, but does as he's told, he's seen what happens when the calm and collected guard loses his temper, it's not a pretty sight.

Sabaoth looks down at the little thief leaning against his arm, closing his legs slightly, he pulls him up closer. "And you, stop antagonizing my prisoner."

The little angel pouts slightly. "Aw, but Saba, it's fun to antagonize him."

The oldest guard sighs deeply, slightly exasperated. "I know it is, Oel, but there are other ways to find entertainment."

"How?" Jahoel looks unimpressed. "By staring at a different set of four enclosing walls?"

He sighs again. "No." He curls his arms around the skinny little prisoner. "Let me show you."

They'd figured out how to get the little prisoner to reign himself in after a while, they've known for much longer then their Warden has, it brings them great enjoyment to get one over on the sarcastic little prisoner. There was one sure way to bring his sarcasm to a stopping point.

The younger angel seems to understand what he's alluding too, and his eyes widen, he pushes against the guard's chest, but his arms hold him steady and close. "No, that's okay, I'll figure it out."

"No, no, it's my job as your elder to help guide you."

"I'm okay. I'll stop. I promise."

"Oh, I insist." He smiles down at him, curling the fingers of his right hand over his shoulder, to make it rather difficult to scrunch his shoulder up, and leans closer. "It's my job to help the prisoners."

Jahoel falls still, the others exchange an amused glance, even Sora's gotten to see just a small bit into their interesting relationship. He stiffens, lifting his shoulder as much as he can, the guard is stronger then him, it only lifts a measly centimeter. "Please not the beard." He tilts his head to the side, he figures, if he can't scrunch up, he'll lean to the side as much as he can.

"Oh, you know me so well." He feels a warm nose nudge at his cheek, the edge of the beard rubs over his jaw bone. "Open up."

"No."

"Open up."

"Never."

Sabaoth chuckles softly, he always manages to find a crack in his defenses, and this time is no different, he pushes his head back lightly, moving the hand from his shoulder upwards, and quickly slides into place. Jahoel shrieks lightly, scrunching up around him, his dangling legs, hanging over the guard's right thigh, straighten at the sudden attack. His arms close around him, making his pushing against his chest a futile endeavor, so he changes his methods, pushing desperately at his arms, going as rigid as a petrified cat.

He hisses at first, like a startled feline, but the hissing soon fades away, boisterous giggles exploding from him as the guard rubs his face into the side of his neck. "Getoutgetoutgetout! Gehehehet ohohohout!"

"What was it you said?" He rubs his nose into the soft skin. "Never."

"I hahahahahaahaaate yohhohohohur beheheheheeaahahahahard! Ihateit! Get ohhohohout!"

"You love my beard." He rubs his beard into the smooth skin of his neck and he cackles softly, trying to lean away from him, but failing, he has nowhere to go, he's trapped in place. "Listen at how happy it makes you."

"I'm gohohohoing toohoohohohoho shahahhahaave ihihihit ohohohooff!"

"I dare you to try," he presses a kiss to the tender skin and the young prisoner shrieks softly. "See what I do to you then."

"Ihihihihits wohohohhorth thehehehehehe ihhihihiihit!"

Osmadiel laughs at that, shaking his head at them, Rahab and Sorath giggle softly into their hands. Sabaoth laughs softly, the vibrations of it against his neck drive him crazy, and he loses it.

"Hahahahahaahshshshshshahahahahaa! Stop! STOP! Iihihihihi'm sohohohoorry!"

"Are you going to cool it on the sarcasm?"

"Yeehehehhehehes!"

"And, did you annoy Marmaroth enough that he left his post?"

"Poohohohohossibly!"

"I thought so." He presses one last kiss to his neck and pulls back. "Thanks for admitting it, you little miscreant."

Jahoel giggles breathlessly, sagging against him, rubbing lightly at the side of his neck, to rub away the remaining tingles. "I hahahhaate you."

"You do not," he hugs him close, rubbing his fingers throw his curls, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "You love me, and you know it."

The little prisoner nods, giggling still. "I do."

"Saba, please don't torture the prisoners," they both turn towards the voice, the Warden stands there, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed loosely, and he smiles down at them. "That's my job."

The guard chuckles softly. "But, I like torturing this one."

Thaddeus smiles in amusement. "I do too." He smirks at the little thief. "So, it's the beard that really gets you, good to know." He rubs at his beard covered chin lightly. "I'll have to keep that in mind."

"Oh, he hates the beard, it gets him every time."

"Really?" He winks down at them. "We'll have to explore that in your next session, Oel."

Jahoel stares at him in horror, and they laugh softly at his expression, Thaddeus nods slightly, humming under his breath. "Did you annoy Marmaroth so much that he asked me to reassign him in less then an hour?"

The little prisoner smiles mischievously. "I was just trying to make a new friend."

"Trying to make a new _friend,_ huh?" The Warden raises an eyebrow as he stares down at him. "Is that your final answer?"

He grins up at him cheekily. "Sure."

"Well then," he rests his hands on his hips lightly. "I can now see the error in my judgement. _You_ are a cruel and unusual punishment."

"Thank you," he presses a hand to his heart. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." He licks his lips slightly. "And, thanks for the hotcakes, too."

"You're welcome, you little rabble rouser."

Thaddeus rubs his hands together. "You shouldn't be bored on your own for very long, we're getting a few new prisoners." He gestures over his shoulder. "I'm putting them in your cell block."

"Thanks?" He makes a face. "I have to pretend to be nice to _new_ people now."

"Oh, please, like you'll stay there long enough to actually give them time to talk to you."

"Are you…" He stares up at him. "Are you actually saying you're going to turn a blind eye to me letting myself out of my cell?"

The Warden stares at him with an even gaze. "I'm not _saying_ anything."

Jahoel stares up at him for a moment and then he smiles. "I like you."

"I like you too, little guy." He leans forward, ruffling his curls gently, smiling down at him fondly. "Even if you're a trouble maker."

"Aw, you love me for _me_!"

Thaddeus chuckles softly, rolling his eyes. "And, you're lucky I do."

He gestures for him to get up, turning back towards the end of the hall. "Come on, miscreant."

"Oh," their little prisoner climbs off the guard's lap. "Where are we going?" He hops to his side. "On an _adventure_?"

"Sure," he tugs him forward by the collar. "We're going on an _adventure_ to get you shoes."

"Oooohhhhh." Jahoel elbows him lightly. "I'm so excited!"


	29. Turning Of Events (Thaddeus & Jahoel)

"He doesn't think you're anything more then the rest of us." They were leaning against the shared walls of their cells, Thaddeus had been serious when he said he was putting the new prisoners in his cell block, he knew he didn't like his neighbor from day one, but he promised Saba and Thadd to be on his best behavior, so he tried, and if he punched his pillow or the wall a few times, then no one had to know. "He doesn't like you." He resisted the urge to do something drastic. "Who could like someone like you?" He clenches his fists tightly. "You can't keep your hands to yourself, if anything, he merely tolerates you."

"No, he doesn't." He tilts his head down, pressing his chin to his chest. "He likes me. We're friends."

"Why? Because he's nice to you?" His neighbor whispers back. "He's nice to _everyone_." They scoff. "You're nothing special."

He knows it's not true, Thadd likes him, he got him shoes, and gave him a book to read, he liked him, they were friends. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" He can hear their boot skid across the floor, stretching their leg out. "If he cared so much why's he keep you locked up?"

"He does care about me."

"No he doesn't." They scoff softly. "If he did, he'd take you with him." There's a beat of silence and his fists clench tightly, fighting that urge even still, he'd promised. "You're nothing but an orphan."

That's it. That's the final straw. That's the one that causes him to lose it. He loses his cool. He can take insults, he can take people not caring about him, but people pointing out his official status, that's what crosses his line. He jumps up to his knees, crawling across his cell, reaching under his mattress for the spare keys he'd taken the night before the new prisoners had arrived. He pushes himself to his feet and rushes for the gate of his cell, reaching through the cell bars, he sticks the key into the lock, turning it, it clicks open, and he pushes the gate outwards. Jumping to his neighbors cell, his hand shakes lightly in fury as he sticks the key into that cells lock too, twisting it open, and rushes inside. His neighbor has little time to reach before he's jumping on him.

There's an echoing smack that reverberates around them, the sound of his fist cracking into his neighbor's cheek, they both yell at each other, one in anger and the other in surprise. "He does care! He does! We're friends! He care's a lot!"

"No, he doesn't!" The other prisoner kicks him off, rolling over, and jumps to his own feet. The prisoner in the cell across from him jumps away from the bars as he's pushed back against it, the gate rattles under them. Jahoel swings at him, and he ducks, so he then brings his knee up and digs it into his stomach. "Yes, he does!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Boots echo down the hall as someone, two someones, run towards them. Arms curl around his middle, under his arms, and yank him backwards. He stumbles backwards, over his own feet, and crashes back into someone's chest. He looks upwards, the heated eyes of the Warden glare down at him, before he looks away, back to the other, the little prisoner follows his gaze. Sabaoth glares at him too, both of them are too stern for his liking, and holds the other prisoner back against him, keeping the two young angels apart. Thaddeus looks between them both heatedly. "What's going on here! There is no room for violence in my Prison!"

"He started it!" They both point at each other, lunging forward, against their restraints. "Let me go!"

"That's enough." The Warden's tone grows darker, firmer, calmer. It's scarier then him yelling at them. "Who threw the first punch?"

Neither of them speak.

"Someone had better speak up."

Jahoel raises his hand timidly. "I did." He feels Thaddeus's angered gaze turn down to him and he resists the urge to flinch at the feeling of it. "How did you get your cells open?" He holds up the set of keys he'd taken. "I took a spare pair of keys." Large warm fingers rub against his as they yank the keys off his finger, he feels the Warden shift as he reaches back to put them in his trousers pocket. "I've warned you against taking my keys."

"Technically, they're not yours, they're spares."

" _Technically,_ any key to this Prison is _my_ key." Fingers curl around his ear and tug downwards sharply, he yelps, ducking in time with the sharp tug. "Don't push your luck."

The Warden looks over to the other boy. "Ismal, no supper tonight."

"What, but, you can't—"

"I'm the _Warden_ ," his voice drops an octave. "I can do whatever I please to any of my prisoners." He glares down at him until he averts his gaze. "No supper tonight." He looks up to the guard holding him steady. "Sabaoth, put him back in his cell." The guards nods silently, dragging the young man forward by the collar of his shirt, and pushes him, none too gently, into his cell.

Jahoel yelps as he pulled around, those fingers still curled firmly around his ear, dragging him down the hall towards the Torture chamber, for some reason, call it intuition, he doesn't think it's to go have a good time. He stumbles over his feet trying to match the angered Warden's pace, he's tall, and _he's_ short, it's no easy task.

The older angel pushes the door to the chamber open, normally he'd take this to his office, but the chamber was closer. He tugs the younger angel around, pushing him in first, and pulls the thick wooden door closed behind him.

The little prisoner jumps forward slightly, despite the grip on his ear, when a hand smacks against his rear end, again and again, repeatedly, he jumps and yelps. "Hey! Wait! Ow! Stop!"

"What have I told you about taking my keys?"

"Not to! _Ouch!_ Stop! Ow! I won't do it again! Oww! Thadd!"

The Warden's angry at him, he can feel it, with every swat. It's repetitive and starting to ache. "They could fall into the wrong hands," he swats him harder. "That is why I keep telling you not to take my keys." Jahoel tries to bounce forward but doesn't get very far. "There are some very dangerous prisoners in here, down on the lower levels, if they were to get their hands on my keys, do you know what havoc they could raise."

"Ow! _Owwie!_ Stop! It hurts! I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Ow! Thadd, please!"

"And, I do not tolerate violence in my Prison, you do not attack my other prisoners, do you understand me."

"He started it! _Ow!_ Okay, okay! I'm sorry!"

"You are confined to your cell for the next week."

"The _whole_ week! OW! Okay, the whole week! Owwie! Thadd, please, stop!"

If anything, the Warden smacks him harder, he's sure that if he were to check, his bottom would be a nice rosy hue at this point. He bounces in place, reaching back to try and protect himself, it doesn't help, Thaddeus merely lets go of his ear and pulls his hands away, holding him in place by the wrist instead.

"And, there's no supper for you tonight either."

"Aw, come on! I didn't even really do anything!" That seems to be the wrong thing to say. "Ow! Owwie! Okay! No supper! Got it!"

"Good." He smacks him one final time, harder then all the rest, and spins him around by the grip on his wrist. "If you ever take my keys, or bring violence on one of my prisoners, ever again, I won't give you the privilege of keeping your trousers."

"Okay, okay," Jahoel rubs his bottom miserably. "Message received."

"Now, tell me," The Warden curls his fingers under his arms, hefting him off his feet, sitting him up on the table. "What brough about this untolerated violence?"

His littlest prisoner looks down at his hands, resting in his lap, but says nothing.

"Come now," he lifts the boy's chin up with a knuckle. "Why so quiet?" He smiles down at him, crossing his arms loosely. "Most of the time, I can hardly get you to keep quiet." Jahoel looks up at him quietly. "Out with it."

He kicks his feet lightly. "He called me an orphan." The boy takes in a deep breath. "And, he said you didn't care about me."

"Of, course I care about you."

Jahoel looks down to his hands again. "You care about everyone."

"Yes," Thaddeus nods lightly. "I do." And lifts his head back up with a knuckle under his chin. "But I care about _you_ , too."

"What?"

The Warden sighs, brushing his fingers up to caress his cheeks, leaning forward to enable them to see eye to eye. "I care about _you_. You're not an orphan. You've got me."

"I've got you?"

"Always."

Jahoel stares at him for a moment, as it slowly dawns on him, his mind taking its time to wrap around the information just fed to it. Thaddeus smiles as his eyes slowly widen, realization dawning on him at long last, sometimes it takes a moment. "I've got you."

"You do, my little miscreant."

He smiles, staring up at the Warden for a long moment, still leaning over, his hands curled over his shoulders, and throws his arms around his neck. Thaddeus smiles softly, curling his own arms around the small prisoner, smoothing his curls down. "I've got you."

"You've got me."

"If you care so much," Jahoel rests his chin on the Warden's shoulder. "Why do you have me stay down here? Why can't I come stay with you?"

"Well, technically speaking, you _are_ still a prisoner." He ducks down in the older angel's shoulder. "And, I figure you'd have more fun down here then you would up in my stuffy quarters."

"So," The younger angel leans back slightly, looking into the elder's eyes, he presses their foreheads together. "If I wanted to, I could come stay with you upstairs?"

"Well, sure," he nods lightly. "We'd have to share a bed, but we could make it work, and, what better way to make sure you're staying out of trouble."

"I don't get into trouble."

"Little guy, there is very little that happens in this Prison that I don't know about."

"I sometimes get into trouble."

He smiles at the younger angel. "That's what I thought you'd say. ' _Sometimes'."_

Jahoel returns his smile. "Can I come stay with you tonight? I want to see if your bed is more comfortable then mine."

The Warden laughs softly, nodding lightly. "Sure, you can come stay with me for the night." He tugs him forward by the legs, curling them around his waist securely, pulling him away from the table. He dangles from the older angels waist, crossing his ankles together, curling his arms around the Warden's neck. Thaddeus turns them around, curling an arm under the boy's lower back to keep him in place, and reaches out with his other hand to push the thick wooden door open.

The sun has set, the orange-yellow light is fading against the floor and the cells, the lanterns on the walls lighting in the wake of the oncoming darkness. He turns them out of the doorway, there's a staircase between the door to the Torture room and the Warden's office, it leads to the small loft above, the Warden's quarters, only the prisoners worst off were taken up there, until they calmed, and then they were taken to their cells.

Thaddeus carried him up the stairs carefully, kicking the door to his quarters open, he steps into the room, kicking the door closed behind them. He treks his way over to the bed, leaning forward, he signals for the young prisoner to let go, and allows him to fall backwards onto his bed. It's a privilege to sleep in the Warden's bed, a privilege that was given much too freely, but sue him, he had a big heart. Jahoel spreads out over the bed, spreading his arms and legs widely, he crosses his arms lightly, shaking his head in amusement. "So, how does my bed check out?"

"So much more comfortable then mine." He rubs his hands over the soft top blanket. "It's like I'm laying on a cloud."

"That nice, huh?"

"It's heavenly," Jahoel snorts at his own joke. "Pun intended."

"Very funny." He turns away from him, making his way over to his wardrobe, pulling the door open. He takes one tunic, a light blue, and turns as he tosses it over to the little angel laying on his bed. "Here, put this on, you're not sleeping in my bed in that nasty prison garb."

"But, you're the one that ordered it."

"I never said I had good taste, put it on, or you can go back downstairs."

Jahoel sits up quickly, shimmying out of his trousers and his tunic, pulling the Warden's over his head. Thaddeus turns to face him, he'd changed much faster then he had, smiling in amusement as the little guy stand from the edge of his bed. "It's like a dress!"

"I take offense to that." He steps forward. "You're just very small."

He takes on a look of offence. "I'm not _that_ short."

The Warden steps forward, bending at the right moment, and scoops the little prisoner up. "Yes, you are." The little angel curls around him, smiling down at him brightly, Thaddeus leans forward, rubbing their noses together. "But it's endearing."

"So, what do we do now?"

"We can do whatever your heart desires."

Jahoel smiles softly. "Can we…?"

"Yes," he rubs his bearded cheek against the young prisoners. "We can."


	30. Exploring The Prison (Thaddeus & Jahoel)

After the first night, it was no surprise to find the young angel curled up under his blankets, he easily let himself out of his cell, even without a set of keys, and had managed to find a way to pick the lock on his door. It had caught him by surprise at first, but he'd quickly grown passed that, Jahoel was a regular visitor now, and personally, he wouldn't have it any other way. The little guy brought a new kind of light to his life, gave him a purpose, especially on those bad days where he remembered the bad times particularly strongly, he'd lay curled in his bed, trusting Sabaoth to take care of things in his absence. It wouldn't be long until he heard the jiggling of the lock in the door to his quarters, the little guy would creep into his room, careful not to disturb the silence, and climb under the blankets next to him, curling around him in such a way that one could take it as him trying to block out all the bad in the world, ensuring that only the good was allowed in, and nothing else.

He appreciated those days, the warmth of the little body curled around his was like a protective blanket, surrounding him completely, or, as completely as the small angel could.

His presence made those days much easier to deal with.

He tilts his head up, unburying it from under his arms, pressed against his pillow, as the lock jiggles softly, the tumbler turning softly, clicking open, and the door swings open softly. Just a crack. Allowing a thin body to slide inside the room, the door closing silently behind them. They creep across the floor, careful not to make so much as a creek, and he sighs as the left side of the blankets lift slightly.

Thaddeus buries his head back into his pillow, under his arms, the ache of his mind mending the lost parts overwhelming. A light warm body climbs up on his back, laying over him, legs straddling his, and arms worm their way around his chest, fingers curl into his tunic lightly. He doesn't say a word, offering comfort from mere presence alone, making sure he knows that he's not alone in this, he doesn't have to suffer on his own.

Sabaoth comes to check on them both later that evening, he knows their littlest prisoner would have made his way up here, if he doesn't come to them, he goes in search of the Warden, he's always with either one of them.

They're both asleep when he pushes the door open, the Warden buried in his pillow, the prisoner pressed deep between his shoulders. He smiles at them, shaking his head lightly, and pulls the door shut behind him as he makes his leave.

…

He's allowed to wander the Prison, he's not allowed to take a set of keys with him, and after what happened last time with the keys, he was loath to try it again, he didn't want to know what that felt like without his trousers on. He had a good idea, but he didn't want to find out if he was right or not. He was allowed to wander the Prison as much as he wanted, without supervision, so long as he stayed within the boundaries that had been set. For example, he's not allowed to wander down to the lower levels, where the dangerous prisoners were kept, he wasn't allowed down there period, even if it was supervised.

But, naturally, his curiosity got the better of him, and he bides his time, waiting for the Warden to leave them for a meeting, for the guards to be preoccupied with taking their prisoners to the washroom, and he creeps over to the thick metal door that separates the upper levels from the lower.

Solitary confinement.

The Hole.

It was not a place for the light hearted.

He peers down the hall to his right, then to his left, and leans forward, slipping his pin into the lock. He twists it, tugs it to the side lightly, and the lock clicks open. There's a series of burning lanterns lining the stone wall, illuminating the stairs that lead down to the rooms below, cautiously, he steps forward, taking the first stare down, and turns back to pull the heavy door closed behind him, leaving it open only a crack, and turns forward, taking the steps down one at a time.

It's dark and dreary, lanterns lightly the hall, he can make out the figures, he knows them to be guards. They're stationed at the walls between each cell. These cells are different then the ones he's used to, the doors aren't gates, they're actual doors, thick metal doors, with barred windows cut in the center of the top, a trap door for them to unlock to slip their trays into.

Jahoel sticks to the shadows, creeping behind the guards as they pace back and forth, checking in on the prisoners.

He chances a glance into one of the cells, he'd never expected to run into someone he knew down here, and he had to do a double glance in his surprise. He rapped lightly on one of the bars over the window, and eyes turn up to meet his, a smile spreads over their features as they stand from their stone bed, tossing the blanket back, and they come to stand before him, curling their fingers around the bars of the window.

"Jahoel."

"Isdel?" He takes a moment to find his words. "I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were too." She smiles at him, it's a mean smile, spiteful. "Still thieving I see, always a common sight among these parts, they know you here by name."

"What are you doing here, Isdel?" Seeing one's former guardian in The Hole would shock anyone. "Why are you down here?"

"Experimentation." She smiles at him again. "Crimes against the Host. It carries a life sentence I'm afraid."

"Is that why you left me?" Jahoel stares up at her, eyes shining with unshed tears, he hadn't been good enough for her to stay with him, to stay out of this kind of trouble. "You left me in the Garden and never came back."

"I didn't want you anymore, Jahoel." She tilts her head. "I grew bored of you."

"So, you threw me away?"

"What does one do with their overused toys?"

"I wasn't…I wasn't a toy to be cast aside." He feels a tear slip down his cheek. "I needed you. You were supposed to care for me. You were supposed to be there."

"Don't worry, we'll be together soon." She smiles at him sweetly, it's scarier then her mean smile. "They'll get tired of your kleptomania soon enough and decide it's best to put you where you can't be seen and throw away the key."

Jahoel shakes his head. "I'll never come down here, never again." He backs away a step, and she reaches through the gap in the bars, snagging his wrist. "Sure, you will, my little one, we'll be together soon. The cell next to mine will be yours."

"No, no, he would never put me down here." Jahoel yanks on his arm, yanking it from her grasp, it catches the attention of the guards and he yelps, bolting in the other direction, back to the stairs, he hops up them, two at a time, it's no easy feat when one's eyes are full of unshed tears. He pushes the heavy door open with both of his hands, and slams it shut with his back, wiping at his eyes, he darts down the hall, he's going to go back to his cell, like a good prisoner, because what if she was right?

What if they did get tired of him?

The little prisoner can barely see where he's going, rubbing miserably at his eyes, he doesn't see the approaching form until he runs into them. He bounces back, yelping in surprise, and would have fallen backwards had he not been caught by the shoulders. "Hey, I've been looking for you, what's wrong?" Warm fingers curl around his cheeks, tilting his head up, thumbs rub away the tears falling down his cheeks. "What happened, I was only gone a few hours."

"Thadd! Thadd, I'm sorry I'm so bad!" He throws himself at the Warden, curling around him tightly. "Please don't put me down there! I'll be good! I'll stop taking stuff! Please don't throw me away!"

"Hey, hey, hey, where's this coming from?" Thaddeus hugs the boy close to him, rubbing at his back soothingly, as he cries himself hoarse into his chest. "Put you where?"

"In Solitary!" He wails softly, pressing closer to the Warden, clutching at the back of his tunic desperately. "It's dark down there! And I saw her….And she said….She said I'd go there…..I—I…Please don't send me there! I'll be good, I swear! I'll be better!"

"In Solitary?" He smooths his curls down gently. "You went downstairs?" Jahoel nods against his middle. "Jahoel, you know you're not allowed to go down there."

"I know! I'm sorry! Please don't put me in the empty cell!"

"Put you in the empty cell?" He pulls him back slightly. "I wouldn't put you down there."

"You wouldn't?"

The Warden shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't. Solitary is for violent offenders, and I'm sorry, but you're about as violent as a puppy." He rubs his head lightly. "Who'd you see?"

"Isdel. She—She said she was there for crimes against the Host and experimentation. She left me….She left me in the Garden and didn't come back. She said you would all get tired of me the way I am and throw me away and throw away the key."

"I would never do that," he caresses his cheeks lightly. "You don't throw away the ones you love."

He sniffles softly, rubbing at his nose lightly. "You love me?"

"I do," he nods. "Very much."

"I love you too, Thadd." He hugs himself close again. "Please don't make me go back to my cell."

Thaddeus hums softly, rubbing his fingers through the boy's wild curls. "Why don't you come stay with me tonight?"

"Will you help me feel better?"

"I will." He nods, turning them around, tucking the young angel against his side, frowning at the little fingers that curled around the back of his belt. His trip downstairs had shaken him, he needed something a bit more physical right now, he pulled him closer. "Let's go upstairs." Jahoel nods, following after him dutifully, tucking himself against his side, clutching at his belt tightly.

They take the stairs one at a time, so he can hang onto the Warden as much as he wants, Thaddeus pushes his door open, he knows it would have been unlocked, and guides him into the room, closing the door behind them. He kicks his boots off, the little prisoner wiggles his toes, though he now has boots of his own he still prefers to go barefoot. Thaddeus guides him over to the desk, where he takes up two bands, and then to his bed, he sits on the edge, and tugs the younger angel down to sit with him, between his legs. Jahoel rests his hands over his knees, as the Warden gathers his wild curls into two large puffy buns over top of his head, keeping his curls out of the way, out of his eyes.

When he's down he curls his arms around the little prisoner's waist. "I promise you." His beard brushes against his ear as he presses a warm kiss to the side of his head. "I would never let you spend even a moment down in that cell. And, I'm the Warden, you all go where I say for you to go."

"You swear?"

"I swear." He nods against his cheek. "You belong up in the light, where I can keep my eye on you, not down there." He rests his chin on the boy's shoulder. "Think of it no more. Get it out of your mind. There's nothing to worry about."

"Isdel abandoned me, Thadd, she said she got bored of me."

He rubs their cheeks together. "I don't know how she could, you make my life interesting every day, don't pay her no mind," he brushes his nose against the boy's cheek. "You've got me now."

"I've got you now."

He nods. "And, I'll never leave you." He rubs their cheeks together again and tightens his embrace a bit more. "You're stuck with me."

"I'm happy to be stuck with you."

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere." He tightens his grip again and leans back, laying over his bed, pulling the younger angel up over his chest as he does. "And, I'm not letting you go. You're mine, now." He nuzzles into the side of his neck, and Jahoel shrieks lightly, trying to scrunch his shoulder up. "You hear that, you're all mine, and no one else's." He shakes his head lightly, rubbing in close, and the younger angel squirms over top of him, arching to the side as far as his embrace will allow. "Say it."

"I'm ahahhall yohohhours!"

He pulls away slightly, pressing a kiss under his ear. "Damn right you are, you're my little miscreant, my little kleptomaniac, and I wouldn't have you any other way."

"You mean it?"

"I do." He tugs the boy over, and Jahoel slides down to lay beside him, curled against his side, he rubs his thumb over his forehead lightly. "Now, the reason I was away, I talked to Michael. He agreed, despite your history, that you mean no harm and that one hundred days is a bit harsh." He smiles down at him. "You're free to go."

Jahoel leans up, pressing his elbow to his chest. "So, I have to leave now?"

"I thought we already went over this," Thaddeus smiles down at him, rubbing his thumb over his forehead again. "You'll just stay with me now, not inside of a cell, you'll stay with me up here. You clearly need someone there to keep an eye on you."

The little angel stares up at him, a smile slowly spreading over his features, as he curls back around the Warden's side. "I'd like that."

"I'm glad."

Jahoel cuddles closer, resting his head in the crook of his arm, the fingers of his right-hand curling lightly in the front of his tunic. "Do you have to go?"

"Well," he rubs at his head lightly. "I do have to make my rounds, check in on my prisoners, I've been away for a while today."

He rolls his eyes fondly when he takes sight of the little thief's pout. "But I can afford taking a light nap with my little angel."

"Good," Jahoel cuddles closer. "Because, I wasn't moving."

"Is that so?"

"Mhm." He closes his eyes, curling into his side, wrapping his arm up around him. "You're comfy."

"Am I?" He pulls him around with his arm and tugs him up. "Come here, then." He pulls the boy up to rest over top of him, his head cushioned on his chest, his legs resting between his own, and Jahoel sighs happily, nodding against his chest. "You take a nap, you had quite the adventure today, I'm here." He curls his arms around him, rubbing at his head lightly with his left hand. "I've got you."


	31. The Problems With Solitary Confinement (Thaddeus & Jahoel)

"Thadd?" He speaks against the Warden's stomach, resting against him, as the sun slowly began to set out the window.

"Hmm?" He flips through to the next page of the file he was reading, threading his fingers through his curls, scratching at his head lightly. Jahoel presses his head back down, like a cat getting its head scratched, and hums in content. "You had a question, remember?"

"Oh, right," He shakes his head to get the fingers to still, at least while he was working on his question, when he was done, they could go back to their scratching. "Why do we still have solitary confinement?"

"Because, there are some prisoners who would cause more harm then good in general population." He rubs at his head again. "I keep them there to keep everyone safe."

"But isn't that…...Bad?" He looks up at him, his head poking under the file, his eyes meeting those of the Warden's. "I mean…Isn't it bad to keep them all locked away in the darkness all day? Couldn't that…Couldn't that hurt them?" He looks down, picking at the older angel's shirt lightly. "I was kept in solitary once, for a week, because of Theo, I nearly went crazy down there, and I was only there for a week."

He lowers the file slightly, looking down at him with a little more attention then he had, admittedly, been giving him. "You were in Solitary for a week?"

The little angel laying over him nodded. He frowns, reaching down with one hand to poke him in the nose. "I'm sorry, Oel, I never would have wanted you to experience that."

Jahoel smiles slightly, scrunching his nose up at the poke, and ducks under his finger when it comes down to poke him again. "If you wouldn't want me to experience that, then what makes it okay for them to?"

"You think they should be moved?" He closes the file completely, he knows he's done reading it anyway, and sets it aside on his bedside table. "Where to? I won't have them anywhere near the minor offenders, it would be too dangerous."

The younger angel rests his chin over his hands, crossed over the Warden's stomach, and he shrugs lightly. "I don't know. Isn't there any empty cell blocks around here?" He rubs his nose with a finger. "There's not as many prisoners as there were before and there's a great turnover rate now that you're back in the game."

"Well," Thaddeus rubs at his chin lightly. "There isn't any one in Delta Block. Nothing would change for their rules and everything, still in their cells 23 hours a day, constant supervision, but with a bit of natural lighting over that of lanterns. Delta Block has the same kind of doors they have now, they don't get to have the gates that everyone else does, for security reasons, but they could have a window to look out from." He nods down at the little angel. "I can see what can be done, it'll take the entirety of a day, but we can move them." Jahoel purrs in content when those fingers return to scratching at his head, laying his head back down again, nuzzling closer. "You're right, of course, that most certainly could be more harmful to keep them down there."

"Mhmm." He rubs his cheek against his stomach. "That feels good."

The older angel chuckles warmly. "It does?"

He nods, his eyes closing softly. "It feels really good."

"Good enough to make you fall asleep?"

"Mhmm."

Thaddeus smiles down at him. "Then I'll keep on going with this and see how long it takes to put you down."

"Tha's no' fair."

"Well, life isn't fair, is it?"

…

"Okay, you can stay down here, but you stay in this office," he holds him in place by the shoulders. "Do you understand me?"

"I won't leave the confines of this office."

He nods. "Not until I come to get you."

"Until you come to get me."

"Very good." He ruffles his curls lightly and lets him go, Jahoel darts off, claiming the leather chair behind the Warden's desk, propping his feet up on the desk, he reclines backwards, his arms curling under his head. "I won't step foot out of this office until you come and say I can."

Thaddeus shakes his head fondly and nods, turning towards the door, he pauses at the last minute, pointing at him from over his shoulders. "Stay."

"I won't move an inch."

"Good." He nods to the spare keys on the desk, they were getting a new guard, and those were for him. "And, those better be left where they are, little sticky fingers better not touch them."

Jahoel holds his hands up. "They won't move even a centimeter."

"They better not."

"I swear they won't!"

"Good."

He closes the door behind him as he leaves, and he groans, folding over the Warden's desk. This is going to be the worst four hours of his life, he could have gone to stay with Saba and the others, but they were assisting in moving the Prisoners from Solitary to Delta Block, leaving him to find his own entertainment for that entire time. It was like asking for the impossible, how was he supposed to entertain himself all on his own. This place was impossible, he wasn't allowed to read the files, he wasn't allowed to play with Thaddeus's whip, all there really was to do was sit here and stare at the walls.

He spins around in the chair for a good twenty minutes, until he's dizzy, and feels like he's going to hurl.

Then he chooses a book from the Warden's bookcase and tries to read, he lasts maybe thirty minutes, before he loses interest.

He chances a glance at the clock and groans, it's only been forty minutes, and he groans deeply, letting his head crash down on the desk before him.

Wishing something interesting would happen, something to entertain him, he'd go for anything.

…

"What do you mean one of them are _missing_!"

"He's gone! He was just right here!"

"Go find him! Before he gets too far!"

"Of course, sir!"

"Then what are you _still_ doing here!"

A scream echoes through the halls and every one freezes, turning in it's direction. The Warden stands still for a moment, eyes wide, and darts off. "Jahoel!"

…

This wasn't what he meant! When he wished for something interesting to happen, he hadn't wished for this, not for the door to slam open, a heaving, huffing and puffing man to appear there. He sits up straighter in the chair, tensing at the sight of him, the man ignores him for a moment, eyes setting on the keys sitting on the Warden's desk, Jahoel's eyes follow his gaze, landing on the keys.

They jump forward at the same time, the Prisoner jumping forward from the doorway, Jahoel jumps up from the chair, onto the Warden's desk, snatching up the keys quickly.

"Give me those, boy!"

"No!" He jumps over the Prisoner as he dives forward, kicking him between the shoulders as he lands over the desk, using the extra momentum to propel himself forward. "You'll have to catch me first!"

The Prisoner growls lowly, jumping around, and he, admittedly, screams just a bit, curls his fingers around the thick whip, and darts away.

He can hear the sound of the other's boots running after him, he chances a glance over his shoulder, eeping as he takes in the proximity, and reaches for the gate of an empty cell, swinging it open quickly as he darts passed it, it slows the Prisoner down a moment, but he catches himself quickly, throwing the gate away.

Yelping, he throws himself around a corner, sliding from the momentum, almost tumbling over his own feet, but he catches himself, and continues on down the path he's chosen. He jumps over a wooden bench, turning in the moment, and kicks it at him, before turning and darting off again.

He hears the Prisoner stumble over the offending object, and he laughs softly, it's the simplest things that catch people up, he curls his fingers around the next corner and flings himself around. He chances another glance over his shoulder and yelps, but he crashes into someone before he can do much of anything. He yelps loudly, stumbling back from the impact, falling over his own two feet, crashing onto the floor under him.

"Jahoel," he knows that voice, it's the voice that reads aloud from his book as he drifts off to sleep, the voice that greets him every morning, the voice that comforts him and makes him laugh. "Are you alright?"

"He…Keys…..Whip…" Thaddeus nods down at him, taking the keys he holds up to him, tucking them in his pocket, and then he takes the whip. It's not as close to his heart as it used to be, but everyone needed a weapon, especially if they worked in the Prison. He stands, stepping over the younger angel, standing before him protectively, he eyes the Prisoner closely, snapping his whip open. "You will go with them peacefully, or I will send you right back where you came from, don't think I'll hesitate."

The Prisoner eyes his whip, he may not have used it in a while, but he still knows it like the back of his hand. He eyes the Warden and bows in defeat, letting three of the guards rush forward and take hold of him, and drag him away. Jahoel stands, using him as leverage to help him back to his feet. Thaddeus tucks his whip into his belt and turns, smiling at the little angel behind him, Jahoel smiles back, jumping at him. He catches the little angel and spins him around, brushing his curls back fondly. "Good job, you did well."

"Sorry I touched the keys."

"I'll let it slide in this one instance."

…

"Oh, Oel," he falls still at the approach of singing voice, turning to peer over his shoulder at the approaching form of the Warden, he's not sure he likes the light shining in his eyes. "I'm in the mood to play."

"But," he turns, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Didn't you play with the new prisoners today?"

"Oh, I did," he continues his approach, coming up the rest of the stairs. "They've had an encounter with the welcome wagon." He sighs, coming up behind him. "But I miss playing with one of my favorite toys."

"Oh, yea," Jahoel backs up a step, eyeing his devious smile. "Who's that?"

"Well, I have a few," Thaddeus tilts his head. "Saba, Gadreel, _you_."

He has little time to prepare himself as the Warden jumps at him, he yells in surprise, tackled back on the bed behind him. He shrieks brightly, scrunching up as a bearded face burrows into the side of his neck, he pushes at the Warden's chest desperately. "Thahahahhahaadd! Nohohhoho! Ahahahahahaha! Gehehehehet ohohohout!"

He nuzzles in close. "I don't think so."

Jahoel shrieks, pushing his at the Warden even still, curling his fingers into the front of his tunic. "Thehehehehe behehehehahahahahard! Nohohohot thehehehee behehehaahahhaard!"

"Oh, I know how much you love it." He pulls away, smiling down at the giggling little angel, and presses their foreheads together. "I trimmed it just for you." He leans over to the other side, and the little angel shrieks, scrunching up his shoulder before he had a chance to get in there. "Let me in, little angel."

"Nohohoho!"

He reaches down, digging his fingers in the young angel's ribs, Jahoel shrieks again, lowering his arms to protect his ribs, and it allows the Warden in. Thaddeus nuzzles into the other side of his neck, and he shrieks brightly, pressing his cheek against the older angel's neck, pushing at his chest once again. "Thank you."

"Ahahahahahhaaha! Nohhohohohoho! Nohhoohoohot ahahahhahagain! Thihihihihis ihihihihiis thehehehhee wohohohorst!"

"You think this is bad, my guardian used to do this to me all the time, I couldn't stand it," he pulls away again, looking up at him, Jahoel doesn't like that smile, not one bit. "Let's give this belly a try."

His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. "Nohohhohoho! Wehehehehe ahahahahren't eheheheheven ihihihin thehehehe tohohohohorture chahahahaamber!"

"I don't need to take you to the torture chamber," he crawls downwards softly, hovering over his belly, and Jahoel shrieks before he touches him, shaking his head frantically. Thaddeus chuckles up at him. "I can torture you anywhere I want, now."

The Warden looks down at his belly, and he shrieks again, shaking his head. He squeals brightly, when the Warden buries his face into his belly, and kicks his feet wildly behind him. "Nohohohohoho! Ahahahahahahahahaa! Stohohohohhop! Geheheheheheet ohohohohoff! Thahahahhahaaaddd! Plehehehehhease! Mehehehehheercy!"

"Tell me how much you love me?"

"Lohohohohots! I loohhohohove yoohohhohou lohohohots!"

"Aww," he laughs softly, curling his arms around his stomach, turning them over. Jahoel curls around him. "I love you too, Oel."


	32. The State Of Panic (Thaddeus & Barbados, Gadreel, Puriel & Titus)

"Sir," he looks up at the quite, but alarmed, intrusion, setting aside the papers he had been working on, the Prison needed rearranging, after moving those in Solitary up, he needed to make sure the two cell blocks on either side were vacant, other than taking in more Solitary Prisoners, or mild offenders, that meant moving around many of those in general population. "One of the new one's is having a panic attack."

"What?" He begins to rise from his seat, unhooking his whip from his belt, setting it on his desk, the last thing they needed was someone in the midst of a panicked state getting their hands on a weapon. "Which cell? Show me."

The guard nods, turning on his heel, and hurries down the hall, turning left and he was at his heel the whole way, looking into the cells as they passed them, surveying the Prisoners, pressing against the bars of their cells as they tried to catch a glimpse of the one panicking. He's guided to cell number 267, and he turns into the doorway to catch sight of the panicking angel, their pale face a deep red, as they clutched at their front, heaving for a breath that just wasn't forth coming. He pushed the guards out of the way, stepping forward into the fray, pushing them back as he passed them. "Don't crowd him, get back, go back to your duties, I've got it handled." The guards salute and nod, turning on their heels, heading off to return to what they were doing before the alarm had been set.

He lowers himself to his knees in front of the young angel, clutching at their chest desperately, heaving and wheezing for air. "Hello." The little angel stares at him with wide honey colored eyes, mouth open slightly, air wheezing out of him frantically. "It's okay, can I touch you?"

There's a brief pause, the younger angel is unsure of him, they've all heard of him and his past, it's a shadow he's been working hard to come out from under. It was a slow but steady climb.

They nod slightly and he smiles at them, taking that as his official invitation, and reaches out, curling his hands around their cheeks, guiding their head around to face him, their eyes locking, he tilts his chin down. "I want you to watch me, alright, keep your eyes on me. Don't look anywhere but in my eyes, okay, can you do that?"

The younger angel nods frantically, staring at him with wide frightened eyes, and he nods. "We need to calm down your breathing before you pass out. You need to close your mouth," the younger angel does as he's instructed. "Good, good boy, now take a deep breath through your nose, and hold it." The angel takes a shaky deep breath, chokes on it, but holds it in as their told to. "We're going to count to three, alright, when we get to three, you're going to let the breath out through your mouth, lightly, like your blowing on a candle, alright?"

The young angel nods lightly. "One, two, three." They let out their breath, it shakes, but it's steadier then it was before. "Good, very good, take another breath, in through the nose."

They inhale deeply, the heaving in their chest slowly calming, he knows a soft ache is filling its place. "One, two, three, now out through the mouth." They exhale softly, like blowing on a candle, and he nods, offering another smile. "Good, very good, that's it, little guy. Now we're going to do it again, but this time we're going to count to six." The younger angel nods lightly, inhaling through their nose deeply. "One, two, three, four, five, six." He nods, and the young thing exhales. "Very good, you're doing great, one more time, count it out in your head this time, can you do that for me?" They nod, taking another deep breath, their breathing even now, no chance of them passing out, they've crossed that road and they're in the clear.

"Very good, you're doing great," he smiles to them again. "What's your name?"

"B—B—Barbados."

"Hello, Barbados," he smiles again. "I'm Thaddeus, I'm going to take care of you now, alright?"

Barbados returns his smile with a small shy one of his own, nodding lightly. "O-Okay."

"Good, very good, come with me, we're going to go for a change of scenery for a bit, alright?"

He nods, taking the Warden's hand when it's held out for him, guiding him to his feet, and he walks him gently from the cell. They turn the corner of the hall, and continue down, he eyes the cells as they pass them, he can feel the tightness returning to his chest, and he chokes softly. "Hey, hey it's okay, keep looking straight ahead, don't look to the sides, just focus on what's in front of you." He nods, turning his head forward, watching as the open door at the end of the hall grows closer and closer.

Thaddeus guides him inside, closing the door behind him, and over to a cot pushed against the far wall. "Let's get you a nap now, we'll talk more when you wake up, I'll be right here with you, do you see my desk?" He nods lightly, as he's turned, pushed down gently to sit on the edge of the cot. "I'm going to be right there, lay on back, that's it, against the pillow." He turns, laying on the caught, his head cushioned by the pillow. "You rest, I'll wake you up for supper, and then we'll talk, alright?" Barbados nods silently, settling back against the cot and pillow, raising his arms slightly as the Warden pulls the blanket up over him, this isn't so bad, it's not as scary as they had made it out to be, he's not as bad as the rumors speak of him, he's nice and kind and patient.

Warm fingers brush his hair back. "Get some sleep, it's alright, I won't let anything bad happen to you here." He nods lightly, his eyes fluttering softly. "We'll talk later, that's it, close those eyes." He nods, his eyes fluttering closed, and fingers massage his scalp lightly. "Just relax. I'll watch over you. Nothing's going to hurt you here."

…

He's throat is closing up, he can hardly breath, his vision is getting fuzzy, he stumbles over his feet as he makes the trek in from the Training Field, he needs help, he needs that one person, the one that always protects him, the one that always makes it all better, he needs his most trusted. His hands shake as he collapses against the closed wooden door, it makes it difficult to curl his fingers around the door handle, he knows he shouldn't just barge in, the door is closed, that means he's in the middle of a meeting, not to be disturbed, but he can't wait. He needs him now. He needs his help now. His fingers slip a few times, but he manages to get passed the shaking of his hands and curl them around the door handle enough to turn it.

He knows the lock clicks open but he can't hear it. All he hears is the ringing, everything is too muffled, it's like he's underwater. It's all too far away.

The door opens, he managed to do it, he mentally congratulates himself, or he would, if he could think straight. He knew he was interrupting a meeting; he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Was he going to apologize? Say that he needed help? He doesn't know, he can't wrap his mind around it enough to form the thought, let alone remember how to speak the words.

There's another person in there, he can make out their form, but his only focus is on the one sitting behind the large desk. They wave a hand, dismissing the other from the room, and scoots back from their desk, motioning for him to come forward. The door slips closed behind him, he doesn't hear it, but he feels the rush of air as it does. He stumbles forward, into the reach of those large hands, they curl firmly around his arms, turning him around, and they pull him down. Those arms curl around his stomach as he's settled to sit on their lap, pulling him back, flush against their chest, those arms curl around him firmly, he can feel them over the din of hysteria, they're there and solid and warm.

Something warm and fuzzy rubs over his ear, it's a beard, he knows that, it's his beard. "It's okay, Hani, you're alright, baby brother."

He nods stiffly, pressing back against his older brother's chest. "H—H—Hurts."

"I know it does. It'll pass. Just hang with me. Grab on." One of the arms uncurl from around him, a large hand held up for him, and he reaches for it, curling the fingers of both his hands around it, it curls around the fingers of his right hand tightly. He curls it up against his chest tightly, curling around it, it presses against his chest, pressing him back. "Hang on tight." He can hear that voice, it's clear, it's firm, it's worried, it's close, right by his ear. "That's it. You're okay. Big brothers got you. I won't let anything happen to you."

"B—B—Big b—brother h—has m—me."

"That's right, I've got you, it's going to be okay. Just focus on my voice, can you focus on my voice?" He nods shakily. "I want you to focus on the sound of my voice. Everything's going to be okay. Take a deep breath for me, hold it in until I tell you to let it go." He nods, inhaling deeply, Haniel waits patiently for his older brother's instructions. "Let it go." He exhales slowly, he knows how to do this, he's had enough panic attacks to know how to treat them. Nisroc always helps. He'll make it better again. He always makes it better. "Good boy, very good, Hani. I'm so proud of you, big brother is so proud, can you lay back?" The other arm unwinds from his stomach for the hand to curl around his forehead, guiding his head back against his older brother's shoulder, resting in the curve of his neck, his beard rubs against his cheek. "That's it, you're doing great, now close your eyes. Close those eyes for big brother."

Haniel sighs deeply, his first sigh, as fingers rub over his forehead, and he closes his eyes, they slide shut. "Good boy, now listen to my breathing, just focus on the rise and fall of my chest on your back, just focus on that, nothing else, everything else can just fade away." He nods again, resting there, his eyes shut, the tension slowly rolling from his shoulders, as he just focuses on the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Up, down, up, down, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

He settles down, the tension fading, the fingers rubbing at his forehead are soothing, a thumb is rubbing over the knuckles of his right hand.

If he falls asleep like that, no one ever says anything, let alone his big brother. Nisroc just sits there, reclining back in his desk chair, letting his baby brother clutch onto his hand, curling his arm around his waist firmly, and he lets him sleep.

…

He screams, scrabbling at his neck, throwing himself forward in his blinded state, choking on another scream, it dies in his throat, his breathing picking up.

_It hurts. It hurts. Make it stop. Help me. Save me._

His body is on fire, it all hurts, everything hurts, he just wants it all to stop. Just make it stop. Someone save him. He's here, right here, come and get him. Come find him. He doesn't want to be alone anymore. Please, someone, someone save him.

_They burn. It all burns. Help me. Someone help me._

He falls to his knees, his chest aching, growing sorer by the minute, his mind a haze, stuck between flashes, bits and pieces of memories playing before his eyes. He doesn't want to be trapped here again. Someone get him out. Don't put him back in that cell. Don't let them carve into him again. No more whip lashes. Stop. Make them stop.

_My neck. My neck burns. Make it stop. Help me. It burns. It hurts. Please, help me._

His can hear someone calling his name, he pushes himself up, fingers still curled around his neck, he meets dark purple eyes and lunges forward. Arms catch him, safe arms, they'll make it better, he knows how to make it feel better again, he'll make it all better. He did the last time. He helped. He made him feel all better again. Arms gather him close, closing around him firmly, he feels the ground fall out from under him and he curls around them even more, pressing his face against his neck, he's warm, he's real, he'll protect him from the darkness. He can feel them swaying, they're walking, he's walking, carrying him from his room, everything's a blur, he can't focus on it.

He comes to rest on the cool stone, it's damp under his fingers, he knows this room, he just can't place it in his mind. His tunic is tugged up over his head gently, fingers press against his back, into the sore spots, over his shoulder, they press in deeply, rubbing at the ache, massaging it away. Those purple eyes return, he stares at them, as fingers curl in the waist of his trousers, shimmying them down, pulling them over his ankles, until he's left in his under garment. Arms wind around him again, one looping under his knees, the other around his shoulders, and the floor falls away again.

When he's set down this time, something cool surrounds him, fighting off the burn, it wraps around him like a blanket. Legs brace around him, his arms are positioned over the legs, curled down around them, it allows him to hold his face above the water, but for it to cover over his burning neck. It fights off the burn, it's soothing, he knew that he would know how to make it better again, he always does.

"It's alright, Tus, you're alright." Fingers rub lightly at his neck, massaging away the ache and pain, leaving nothing but soothing coolness behind. "I've got you. I'll make it all better again."

He licks his lips, trying to force the words out. "P—P—Puri." He takes a deep breath. "H—H—Hurts." He feels his chest tighten again, and fingers reach up to rub at his chest lightly, soothing the tension. "H—H—Help m—me."

"I know it does." Those fingers return to rubbing softly at his neck, soothing circles, tracing along the scars, light and gentle. "It's okay, big brother's here, I'm going to make it all better again. You just relax. Let the cool water sooth away the burning. Just relax." Puriel scoops up a handful of cool water and pours it over his forehead. "You're okay. You're with me. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. You're safe here. I'll protect you. You're alright. You're at home."

Titus blinks his eyes owlishly. "H—Home?"

"That's right," cool wet fingers rub at his cheeks lightly, moving down to rub at his ear lobes, then back to his neck. "You're home. Puri has you. Big brother has you. Nis is making chicken and potatoes for supper. Abe is changing your bedding, he's going to bring us some new clothes, we're just going to soak here for a bit."

He tilts his head slightly, his cheek pressing to his older brothers' thigh. "B—Bedding?"

"Yes, your bedding." Fingers reach under him to rub at his bad shoulder, he sighs in relief, the tension melting under the knowledgeable fingers. "You were sleeping when you fell into panic, you had a bit of an accident, nothing to worry about, we'll clean it up and get you back in bed. You're going to eat supper in bed tonight."

He stutters still, not as bad as before, but it's still pronounced. He stutters when he gets this bad. It was a bad attack. Puriel heard him screaming from the Lounge, he doesn't know what brought it on though, he hadn't had an attack this bad since he became a Power. "S—Sorry."

"Hey," a finger strokes down the bridge of his nose. "Nothing to be sorry for. It was an accident, accidents can happen, it's alright. We'll take care of everything, you just relax, we'll take care of you." He returns to rubbing at his shoulder, massaging in deeply. "What happened?"

"D—Dark. I—It h—hurt. C—Couldn't s—see. A—Alone."

"I see, we're going to keep your lamp on for the next couple of nights, alright, so you can see where you're at, does that sound like a plan?"

Titus nods lightly. "S-Stay?"

"We'll stay with you too, Nis is going to stay with you tonight, he's going to bring you supper when it's done. I'll stay with you until he comes." He rubs his fingers over his head, returning to rubbing at his neck, his neck had always been the epicenter. "You just relax, close your eyes even, we'll take care of everything for you."

The younger Power nods lightly. "S—Sora?"

"You're little boy is just fine. He's going to stay with Saba while we take care of you. You don't worry about a thing, we'll take care of it all, your big brothers are going to take care of you now. You just relax. Just take a deep breath and relax."

He nods, closing his eyes softly, letting the cool water sooth his aching muscles, making the burn fade off, leaving nothing but calmness. The rub of the fingers lull him out, he doesn't know he's fallen asleep until he wakes up, in his room, new bedding, in dry clothes, and a plate being set on his bedside table.

Nisroc smiles down at him, stroking his fingers over his forehead. "Hey, Tus, everything's okay. We're going to take care of everything. You just rest. Relax. Everything's going to be alright." He nods to the plate of chicken and potatoes. "Hungry?"

He nods softly, sitting up against his pillows, he reaches up to feel his neck, his eyes widening at the feeling of fabric, bandages, there's bandages wrapped around his neck. He looks up to the older Power with wide horrified eyes.

The elder Power sits on the edge of his bed, taking one of his hands into his own. "It's alright, Tus, you just scratched up your neck a bit, they're there to keep the scratches from being rubbed against." He turns, picking up the plate, and sets it in his lap. "Here, eat some supper, while it's still warm." He nods silently, reaching for a piece of chicken, pausing with it curled in his fingers.

"Stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

…

He yells as he tumbles out of bed, kicking at the binds around his legs, scrabbling blindly to free himself, if he doesn't free himself he's going back to the back room, the torture isn't playful anymore, it doesn't make the music of laughter, it makes a different sort of music now. He screams again, his attempts at escape futile, he doesn't want it, he doesn't want to face it again, he's not strong enough.

_Someone help me. Someone help. Don't just stand there! Help me!_

He hears the door slam open and he screams again, curling in on himself, voices argue in the doorway, softly, quietly. They're here to take him, they're going to take him back now, he struggles harder, another voice joins them, deeper, firmer, and the arguing falls silent.

A voice calls out to him, softly, and he uncurls slightly to peer up at it, from under his arm he sees luminescent blue eyes staring back at him, he knows those eyes, those eyes belong to someone who helps him. He cries out, reaching for them blindly, warm fingers curl around his middle, under his arms, and heft him up, a voice rumbles around him, his head pressed to their chest, and someone moves, they climb into the bed he was laying on, the one he'd fallen out of, it's slowly coming back to him. Bit by little bit. He's lifted from the floor, those fingers curled around his middle, under his arms still, and he's set back on the bed, someone's behind him now, he's laying over top of someone, they're warm under him, solid, real.

Fingers brush his bangs back lightly, he's pressed back against someone's chest, something fuzzy rubs over the side of his head. He feels the bed dip at his feet, the binds around his legs is removed and he whines softly, they're going to lock him on the table now, he doesn't want it. He doesn't want it. Please help him. _Please help him. Somebody help him._

"Gaddy, it's okay." He goes tense at the voice, whining deeply, a guttural whine, deep in his chest, and he starts to squirm as panic begins to set it again. "Gaddy, it's alright, it's Thadd, it's okay." The voice is so close to him, it's right there, _he's_ right there.

"I told you this was a bad idea!"

"Be quite, Abner, not now." The deeper voice reprimands. "Thadd, try something else, that name clearly brings about something darker, what did he call you when he was young?"

"It's Taddy, grasshopper." The voice that rumbles under him whispers in his ear. He falls still, breathing harshly. It's Taddy. Taddy makes everything better again. He protects him. He remembers Taddy. Taddy makes him laugh, Taddy comforts him, Taddy's always there. "Taddy's got you. You're alright." _'Grasshopper'._ Only Taddy knows that name. Only Taddy calls him that. Taddy's right there. Taddy's the one behind him, under him, he's laying against Taddy.

His chest heaves with a sob. "T—T—Taddy! H—H—Help m—me!"

"It's alright, grasshopper, Taddy's here. I won't let anything happen to you. Take a big breath for Taddy, can you do that?"

He nods, he wants to make Taddy happy, wants to make Taddy proud. It hurts, it's hard, but he takes a shaky deep breath.

"That's it, grasshopper, that's it, very good, you're such a good little angel," something fuzzy rubs over his cheek lightly, it's his beard, Taddy has a beard. "Now, let it out."

Gadreel nods, letting the breath go, his chest aches, it's too tight. _Taddy help_.

"Abner, sit here, rub his chest."

The bed moves again, it dips again, someone moved and someone else sat back down. He starts when fingers rub at his chest, his breathing picking up again, the deep voice rumbles once more.

"Thadd, give him your hand."

"Here, grasshopper, take Taddy's hand, hold on tight." He nods, taking the offered hand in both of his, the fingers of the hand curl tightly around the fingers of his right hand. The fingers return to rubbing his chest, the ache slowly fades, and he sinks back against Taddy, clutching at his hand tightly. His breathing slowly calms, the room starts to come back into focus, the panic starting to die down. Abner smiles at him, he's sitting beside him, on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his chest lightly. His blanket is bunched up at the bottom of the bed, his legs free, he's not in the back room, he's in his and Abner's room at the Pavilion, he wasn't being dragged down the hall, his legs had been trapped, it had all been a dream. A bad, horrible, no good dream. He was fine. He was safe. His eyes drift upwards, Tus smiles down at him, he was safe with Tus there.

"Hey, little guy." Tus is the deep voice, he realizes, it's Tus, Abner, and Taddy. "Bad dream?"

Gadreel nods, tucking his and Taddy's hands under his chin. "B—B—Bad."

"We're not going to let anything happen to you, little guy." He leans over, stroking the backs of his fingers over his damp cheek, brushing away the tear tracks. "You're safe. It's okay. It was just a dream."

"R—Real?"

"No, it wasn't real, just a dream, remember?" He stares up at the Power. "You were having a bad day and decided to take a nap. It was just a bad dream. That's all. Just a dream."

He licks his lips. "D—Dream?"

"That's right, just a dream, you should go back to sleep."

Gadreel shakes his head vigorously. "N—No! D—Dreams! B—B—Bad d—dreams!"

"I know, little guy," he turns to the bedside table, sighting through the little bottles there, looking for the right one. "Abner and Taddy are going to nap with you, and I'm going to give you something for the bad dreams, to help keep them away."

"O—Okay, T—Tus."

The Power hums softly, finding the one he's looking for, and picks it up with his fingers. "Here it is, Gaddy." He pulls the cap off and holds it out to him, Taddy reaches around him for the bottle, and holds it up to his lips. "It'll help you sleep better." He nods lightly, opening his mouth for the drink to be poured in, swallowing it with one gulp. The tension in his muscles washes away like rain washing a dusty window. He sighs, sinking back against the older angel underneath him. Abner smiles at him, climbing up to his right side, and they situate him between them. Taddy on his left and Abner on his right. He blinks owlishly up at the Power, he smiles down at him, brushing his fingers through his hair. Reaching down, he picks up the blanket, showing it to him first, and he nods, watching as the Power shakes it out and lays it over top of him. "You finish your nap, Gaddy, your big brothers will keep the bad dreams away.

He nods sleepily, clutching Taddy's hand with his right, and reaches for one of Abner's with his left, hugging them both close to his chest as the sleeping drug works it's magic, drawing him back to his nap.

Abner snorts, turning to look at the older angel next to him. "' _Taddy'_?"

"Shut up, _'Aby'_."

"Boys, not now."


	33. On The Hunt (Thaddeus & Rizoel)

He smiles as he walks down the hall of the block that holds his youngest offenders, about the same age as Jahoel, perhaps a bit older, some a bit younger, but all the same. The muted giggles and tense silent makes him smile. "That's what I like to hear in this hall." His voice echoes through the silence, as he makes his way slowly down the hall, purposefully stopping by a few cells just to get a rise out of the prisoners within. The Warden is on the hunt, a predator looking for its prey, and they're all out for the taking.

He stops at one of the middle cells, leaning against the frame, the gate hanging open inside. Barbados is claustrophobic, the cell being open helps him, and he trusts the boy not to attempt a jail break. The boy shies away from him, covering his smile with his hand, but he saw it, and he winks playfully. "How are you feeling, Ados?"

"Better."

"That's good, that's good, we'll leave the cell open for now." He points a finger at him. "Don't try and make a break for it, I can count the number of those who actually succeeded with one hand, don't find out what happens if you try."

He shakes his head. "I won't. I swear."

"You know what," he smiles at him playfully. "Go ahead. I want to see how that would play out."

"I think I'll kindly pass."

Thaddeus shrugs. "If you say so. The offer's always on the table." He winks at him again and pushes away from the frame, Barbados breaths a sigh of relief, he's spared for today, maybe, he could come back.

He continues down the hall, stopping at another cell, the occupant curls around himself tightly. "How about you, Kutiel? How does that belly feel today?" He turns towards the cell, reaching back, as though to grab his keys. "Is it feeling lucky?" He shakes his head, backing away a step, and he smiles, turning to the cell across from him. "How about you, Duma, do those armpits want some attention?" She shakes her head, biting back a soft giggle, curling her arms around herself tightly. "No? What a shame." He shares a glance between them. "You're both spared, for today." They breathe a sigh of relief and he shakes his head in amusement, continuing on his way.

He walks down a few more cells, stopping to tease a few of them here and there, before stopping and turning, watching his prey inside closely. "Rizoel, how are you?"

"Ummm….Good?"

"Good, good. Sleeping well?"

"Mmhmmm."

"That's great to hear," he rubs at his chin lightly. "I can't remember the last time we had some _quality_ time together. I've neglected you."

"It's okay."

"But it's not. Everyone gets treated fairly here, its not fair that the others had had more quality time then you have."

"I'm really okay with that, thanks for the concern though."

"Of course, of course, we can't let this continue." He rubs at his chin again. "What was it with you, again? It's been so long I can't remember the best spots to play with…..Let me think." He turns to the guards a pace behind him and gestures to the cell he stands before, Rizoel's eyes widen, he is apparently not one of the ones being spared today and he curls himself around his bedframe, they'll have to pry him off. "This one, give his sides a good squeeze, it'll get him to let go of the frame."

They nod, stepping forward as he steps back, opening the gate quickly. One of the guard's struggle with him, squeezing his sides firmly, he yelps and lets go, reaching down to grab the guard's hands, and the other traps his wrists. He struggles and kicks, the guard holding his wrists gets kicked twice and loses his patience, spinning the young prisoner around, he yanks him over his shoulder instead.

Thaddeus snorts as they come out of the cell, the prisoner dangling over the taller guard's shoulder.

He follows behind them languidly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he has to know all the best places to play or it's just not a good time. He steps into the room as they finish strapping the young spy to the table, Rizoel, sentenced 200 days for espionage, he wasn't a very good spy though, considering he was caught. Thaddeus thought the sentence was a bit stiff, he was talking Michael down, as he did for most of his nonviolent prisoners. Michael had a big heart, it wasn't a difficult task, especially when it came to the reports he had for their good behavior.

Rizoel watches him closely as the guards make their leave and close the door behind them, he scratches at his beard as he stands at the boy's side, mauling his mind over the facts, he has many prisoners, sometimes he forgets the important things, but they always come to him eventually.

"Oh, I remember," he holds up a finger, "number one." He digs his fingers into the spy's left thigh, and he squeals brightly, kicking and twisting under his grip, shrieking with laughter when he curls his fingers underneath and digs into the meat on the underside. "Oh, you wish I'd forgotten, didn't you?" He climbs a bit higher, and the shrieking picks up in octave. "Sometimes it takes me a moment, but I _never_ forget." He curls the fingers of his right hand inwards, getting to the meat of the inner thigh, and the leg straightens, the toes spread, as he squeals again. "You know, I dared Barbados to try and escape, see where it lands him." He stills for a moment, the younger angel pants softly, staring up at him, a smile playing at his features. "You've tried to escape a few times since you've arrived, _remember_ what I did when I _caught_ you?"

The young prisoner curls his fingers into fists, and shrieks just thinking about it, he'd annoyed the Warden with those attempts, he hasn't tried since, this was him being playful, that, that was actual torture.

He smiles in amusement. "Oh, ho, ho, someone does remember." He wiggles his fingers a bit and his leg jerks, the young prisoner shrieks brightly. "You haven't tried since, though, have you?" He digs into his thigh again, the boy squeals and jumps, cackling with hysterical laughter. "I remember too. That was fun." He jumps over to his other thigh, and Rizoel squeals again, kicking his leg as best as he can, shrieking and squealing with laughter, it raises in pitch when he worms his fingers underneath. "Let's do it again."

His eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically, shrieking with laughter when his fingers wiggle into his inner thighs, not that, anything but that. Rizoel giggles feverishly when he finally pulls away from his thighs, shaking his head again. "Nohohoho! Nohohohot thahahahat!"

"Oh, what I say goes, and I say we're doing it."

"Nohhohoho!" The boy's eyes widen as he raises his tunic up, revealing his slightly toned belly from underneath, and tucks the shirt over his head, leaving him blinded to any possible attacks to come. "Nohohohohoho! Plehehehehehease! I've beehehehehen gohohohohood!"

"I know you have; you haven't had any runs in a while, I taught you well, didn't I?"

A finger wiggles under his belly button and he giggles softly, wiggling around, trying to shake it off. It goes nowhere.

"Thighs are number one, and, number two is," he claws his fingers into his belly, and he shrieks with laughter, arching his back lightly, as he falls back into hysterical cackles. "The belly." Two hands claw at either side of his belly and he loses it, he squeals brightly and shrieks with laughter, kicking his legs and tugging at his arms as much as he can. "Oh, the fun I've had with this belly." He spiders his fingers around in a circle and the younger angel shrieks, jumping from side to side, trying to evade his fingers, but he has no where to go. "I'm not doing this right if your not begging me to stop, I'm supposed to be torturing you, I know what'll get you begging."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the fingers pull away, Rizoel starts to struggle feverishly. He shakes his head frantically under his tunic. "NO! Not those! No! NO! Stay away!" He starts to giggle lightly because he can't see what he's doing. "Stahahahahay ahahahaway! Nohoho! Not those! Get away! Gehehehet Awaahhay!" He takes a deep breath, dramatically, to make sure it's heard. The struggles grow more intense and the giggling picks up. "NO! NO! Nohohohot thohohohohoose! Nohoho! NOHOHO! EEIEIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NOT AGAIN! NOHOHO! EEEIEIEEEIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! EEIEEIEIEIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHHEASE! EEIEIEIEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHAOHAHAHAHAHOOOO! EEIEIIEEIHEHEHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAABAAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!"

"Oh, these are the best."

"NOHOHO TEHEHEHHEHEHEEEY AAHAHAHHAHARENT! NONONO! NO WAIT! EEIEIEIEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOP! NOHOHO MOHOHHORE! NONONO! EIEIEIEHEHEAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHA! EEIEIHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!"

"Remember when I caught you, we came back here, and I just took a breath and went—" "EIEIEIHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YEHEHEHEHEHES! IHHIHIHIHI REHEHEHEHEMEMBEHEHEHER!"

"Good times, right?"

"NO! THEHEHE WOHOHOHORST! THE WORST! WAIT! WAIT NO! THADD! THADDY NO! EEEIEIAAAIHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA! AHAHAHAHHAA BAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! STOPSTOP! EEIEIIEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!"

"This is what little spies get."

"EEIIEEIHEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEASE! EEIEIIEHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THERE! NOT THEEIEIEIIEAIHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THADDY PLEASE! THAHAHAHAHHAAADDDYYYY! EEIEIEHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES! STOHOHOHOP! DOHOHHOHOON'T! STOOHHOHHOOHOP!"

"Don't stop? I was going to, but okay."

"NO! NO! THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT! NOHOHOHO! THAHAHHAHAADDYYY! NOHOHOHO NONONO! GET AWAY! GEHEHEHET AWAHAHHHAHAY! I CAN'T SEE! IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHHAHAN'T SEEHEHEHEHEHEHE! EIEIIEEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAH! NONO WAIT! EIEEIIEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA BAHAHAHAHAHAA! EIEIEIEHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHA! MERCY! MEEHEHEHEHERCY! EEIIEEIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AHAHAHAAHAHAHA! I CAN'T BREIEIEIEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Oh, I love those," he rubs his hand over the prisoners heaving belly. "Especially when it comes to little spies. They get the worst torture there is to give."

"Plehehehehease! Thahahahahahaddy! Nohoho mohohore! Plehheheheheease!"

He chuckles fondly. "Aww, are you all worn out already?" He wiggles a finger into his right armpit, the little angel shrieks and turns away, trying to lean to the other side away from his finger. "We haven't even gotten to see these armpits yet." He reaches over to wiggle his finger into the other armpit, to get him back into place. "Should I show the little spy some mercy?"

"Yehehehes!"

Five fingers flutter over his armpit gently and he shrieks with laughter, trying to tug away from it. "What's in it for me?" He digs a finger into the hollow and the boy shrieks again. "I don't give mercy away for free. Especially to spies."

Rizoel takes a deep breath. "Huhuhug!"

"Hmmm, a hug in exchange for mercy?" He pulls away, stepping down to his feet, undoing the strap from the left and then the right, before returning to his head, reaching above him to undo the straps around his wrists. He tugs the tunic down from over his head and smiles down at him. "I think I'll take that deal."

The little spy laughs breathlessly, jumping at him from the table, and the Warden catches him, he always does when they play these games. He curls his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck, pressing his face to his neck, his beard rubs over the side of his head. "You're lucky you give such good hugs." Even still, he turns, carrying him out the door, and to the side, into his office, where all the freshly tortured prisoners go after their sessions. "What's your feelings on a nap?"

"On your cot?"

"Of course, where else?"

"I think I'm feeling up to it."

Thaddeus chuckles softly, setting him on his feet next to the cot, watching in amusement as he scurries under the blanket. "I thought you would." He rubs at his head lightly, kneeling beside him, ruffling his hair gently. "Get some sleep, kiddo."


	34. They All Go Down (Thaddeus, Jahoel, Rizoel, & Barbados)

He knows right from the start that something's not right, he can feel it, in his bones, he feels it. He's too hot under the blankets, but then he knows if he crawls out from under them that he'll be too cold, it's a miserable life to be living.

Whining pitifully, he crawls over the bed, up over the other occupant's side, curling around them like a squid. The other one yawns, rolling over, allowing him to curl around their front, and arms circle around him. "What's wrong, little buddy?" He whines again, rubbing his cheek against their chest, fingers stroke over his other cheek, then curl around his forehead. "Oh, Jahoel, you've got a bit of a fever there, little buddy."

"Hurts."

The Warden sits up against his pillows lightly, stroking his fingers through his curls lightly, that's why he feels so hot then. "Oh, this is my favorite time of the year. One person catches the bug and the entire ship goes down." Thaddeus strokes at his nose lightly. "Tell me what hurts, so I can help you feel better."

"My belly." He coughs softly into his hand, and frowns. "My throat, too."

"Well, alright, I know what you're doing today."

"Hmm?" He rubs his cheek over his chest again. Fingers stroke his curls down. "You're staying in bed, mister. No exceptions."

"You?"

"Aww, little buddy, I'd be happy to stay with you, but I've got to work."

"B—But, Taadddyyyy!"

"Now, don't you _'but Taddy'_ me, you know you mean the world to me, but I've still got to take care of this place." He rubs at his cheek lightly. "But I'll come check on you throughout the day."

"Saba?"

He feels him shake his head softly. "Saba can't leave Sora, how about I send Os up to stay with you instead?"

"Osy."

"Alright, I'll send Os up to stay with you."

Thaddeus rubs at his curls lightly after that, watching him slowly slip back to sleep, tracing his fingers over his forehead, frowning at the heat that rolls off at him. Jahoel's nose is stuffy, he wheezes softly as he breathes, his fingers curled lightly in the front of his tunic. He'd have to put this place under quarantine, if someone got the bug, they all got the bug, it would spread like wildfire among them. He manages to shimmy out from under him when it comes time for him to get up, Jahoel's sleep isn't interrupted in the slightest, he mumbles and his nose twitches, but he settles against the warm pillow when he finally manages to slide out from underneath him.

He changes quietly, lighting the lamp on the bedside table, dimming it to a soft light, and sets a pitcher and glass before it, for the young angel to see when he was to wake up.

He'd send Os up to stay with him, he spends most of his days sleeping anyway, so what better then to have him come watch over a sick youngster who would spend most of their day sleeping too.

The Warden slips out of the room, careful not to make too much noise and wake the ill angel up, and heads down the stairs quietly.

A guard waits for him at the bottom.

"What seems to be the problem?"

It was not like the guards to be waiting for him at the bottom of his stairs.

"Sir, one of the minors didn't come to collect their tray for breakfast this morning."

Thaddeus sighs, it is that time of year, and rubs at his beard lightly. "Who was it?"

The guard nods. "Barbados."

Of course. "I'll check in on him. Gather a few others, I want them all checked for any signs of a fever, section them off, no one but us goes in or out."

"Yes, sir." The guard salutes. "What of their lessons?"

"Lessons are postponed for the foreseeable future."

"Understood, sir."

His first stop is to see Osmadiel. Rahab is more then happy to take care of everything for them both, when he asks if he'd be willing to go stay with Jahoel, they're all mighty fond of the boy in question, even him and little Sora have become good friends. They color together most days, or play with toy cars, they get along well.

Then he makes his way to the other little angel's cell.

He's curled up on his cot, dead to the world, and he can hear the wheeze of breath from the open door of his cell. Sighing softly, Thaddeus steps into the open cell, squatting beside the prisoner's cot, he reaches out and rubs at his forehead lightly. The heat of a fever warms his fingers. "Ados?"

The little prisoner hums, his eyes fluttering softly, opening up to look up at him.

He smiles down at him gently. "How are you feeling, little guy?"

Barbados licks his lips, his eyes fluttering softly, he's completely worn out. "Bad."

"You've got a bit of a fever there, little buddy."

"Don' like bein' si'k."

He chuckles softly. "I don't think anyone really does." He rubs his forehead lightly, tapping his ear softly. "Come on, little guy, I'm going to move you."

"Whe'e go'n?"

"You're going to sleep upstairs with Os and Jahoel."

"Mm'Kay."

He stumbles out of his cot slightly, nearly tumbling over, but he catches him, and lifts him into his arms. A warm forehead presses to the side of his neck as the little angel leans against him, curling his arms around his neck loosely, and Thaddeus turns, carrying him from the cell. Two of the guards that patrol the halls stand there waiting for him, he cared for his guards, he truly did, but sometimes it felt like he was holding their hands, as they waited for him to give them orders. "Well, how do the rest of them fair?"

"A few complain of upset stomach, but only one has come down with a fever."

He adjusts his hold on Barbados. "Who?"

"The spy, he is warm to the touch, very languid. He isn't moving much."

"I see, I'll tend to him once I get this one to where he's going." He glances over their shoulders and down the hall, the young Prisoners usually come to the front of their cells at the sound of his voice, this time it's a ghost town. "For supper they will all have vegetable soup and crackers, warm tea and cool water, leave them each a small jug of water and a cup, check on them every so many hours." He returns his gaze to the head guard for the minors' block. "If any of them seem to worsen I want you to come get me."

They nod as one unit. "Yes, sir." And move away to tell the cooks of the Prison what the minor will be having for supper until further notice. He turns back towards the other end of the hall, hiking the fevered prisoner up into a better position for the both of them, and makes his way to the exit. Barbados sniffles against his neck, nuzzling closer, his fingers curling lightly into his collar. "Let's get you back in bed, Ados."

The younger angel nods silently, warm breath ghosting lightly over the side of his neck, and he takes the first step up to his quarters above. Pushing the cracked door open, he smiles slightly, those four guards are rather enamored with the little thief. Osmadiel has curled himself around Jahoel, both sleeping peacefully unaware of their audience, there's a spot big enough on the guards other side for him, and he leans over, setting the other young prisoner there. Barbados sighs sleepily, turning over onto his side, curling up against the guard on his other side. He stands back, watching with his hands resting on his hips, as Osmadiel wakes with a start, feeling the warmth of another little body curling around his, and lifts his head slightly to peer over his shoulder to see who the other little guest is. Barbados sniffles softly, nuzzling his cheek over the guards arm, and it brings him to adjust his position, to be a bit more accommodating to them both. Jahoel murmurs, curling around his right arm tightly, in a small little ball, his cheek pressed to the bare skin. The guard lifts his arm for the other little prisoner, Barbados sidles up close, pressing into his side, under his arm, and curling his fingers into the top of his tunic.

He frowns, something catches his eyes, something tinged red, amber, the sight of heated skin, and he leans forward, reaching for the guard, pressing the back of his fingers to his cheek. "Os, are you feeling alright?" He whispers into the din, he knows the younger angels are fast asleep, too deep to hear him, but the guard is not, he hears every word he speaks.

He shakes his head lightly, pressing into the cool fingers over his forehead, and sighs a near silent sigh of relief.

"You stay here with them for a bit, you're not going back to your post."

Osmadiel nods silently, resting back against the pillows on the Warden's bed, settling down for another nap.

Turning, he sighs, he'll have to check in on the others then, see how they fair, seeing as to how close they all were in proximity to each other. They're closer then the minors' block is, so he turns down that hall, deciding to check in on them first. Another frown mars his features as he gazes upon them. Sabaoth and Rahab seem to be in good health, but Sorath is red in the face, his cheeks blistered, leaning back against the oldest guard carefully. Sabaoth runs his fingers over his forehead, trying to offer him some semblance of comfort, and Thaddeus rubs at his chin lightly. "Sora, do you feel bad?"

The youngest of his guards looks up at him with fever bidden eyes and nods sluggishly, he feels bad, he just wants to be held and sleep.

He stops a guard wandering by. "Go fetch Titus." They nod, jogging off to do as they were told. He leans over to rub the young guards head. "I'm going to find someone to replace you for the next coming days." He raises his gaze to the guard holding him. "Take care of him, Saba."

"I will."

Smiling, he nods, turning in the other direction, back towards the minors block, to check in on the little spy. Rizoel is curled up on his side, when he finally makes it to his cell, half hidden under his blanket. He squats at his side, pulling the blanket back slightly, he chuckles airily as he brushes his fingers over the fever glistened skin.

Pox.

Little red spots color his skin.

The worst of all things to spread through his Prison.

"Oh, Rizo, you've got chickenpox."

The little spy mumbles, whining softly, uncurling from his ball as he reaches out for comfort. "Don' feel goo'."

Mentally thanking Father that he himself had suffered through this particular illness when he was young, Thaddeus opens his arms as the younger angel turns towards him and slowly comes to curl around him. "I imagine not, little spy." He hefts the younger angel up with him as he stands, legs curl around his waist and arms around his neck, a heated face presses to his neck. "Let's get you upstairs too, little guy." He'll take the infected ones up with him, and possibly help save off the others. Rizoel nods against his neck, he feels his hand slowly crawl over his shoulder towards the young angel's neck. Smiling, he kisses the young spy's cheek. "No scratching."

"Bu' itchy."

"I know it itches, little guy, I'll give you something for the itchiness."

"Mm'kay."

He's not alone this time when he steps into his room, his old guardian is there, slowly extracting Osmadiel from between the two young angels, lifting him up from the bed carefully, the guard curls an arm around the Captain's neck and rests against his shoulder.

Nisroc smiles at him. "Oh, chickenpox, no one's best friend."

Thaddeus huffs in amusement, hiking the little spy up higher against him. "At least you don't have _three."_

"Oh, I've had _much_ more than three."

"I've had my fair share of them too."

The Power chuckles softly. "I'd say we're pretty evenly matched then."

The Warden smiles slightly, stepping passed the Power to set his cargo down on the bed, watching fondly as he curls up on his side, burrowing under the blankets. "Sora?"

"Tus took him, he'll break out in a few day's time."

"And, Saba?"

Nisroc nods lightly. "Saba has already had them, you helped me care for him, remember?" Thaddeus nods. "Is he going to be staying with Sora, is what I was asking."

"Aah, I see, yes, he will most likely end up staying with Sora."

The Warden nods, he'd expected as much, he smiles at the three boys on his bed, they'd curled up together like a pack of fledglings. "This is going to be fun."

"Isn't it always?"

…

"No, no scratching, bad," he smacks the little hand lightly. "Bad, bad spy."

Rizoel giggles softly, wheezing slightly as he does, and leans away from the Warden on the edge of the bed as he reaches back to scratch at his arm again. The Warden still sees, he leans over towards him, and smacks his hand again.

Beside him, Jahoel is a grumpy mound, hunched inwards and arms crossed, he glares down at the long mittens covering his hands. In all fairness, he had been warned, but he'd continued to scratch.

"Rizo, if I catch you scratching one more time you get the same end Jahoel did, do you understand me?"

"Bu' T'addy, i'ches!"

"I know it does, and you're next for the calamine lotion." He turns back to Barbados, rubbing the lotion over the patches of pox on his belly, nudging him around to get to his side and back. "Cool soda baths and calamine lotion will start to help with the itchiness." He finishes with the young angel he's working on, and pats him on the thigh lightly to send him back to his spot in the bed. Barbados thanks him softly, and he nods, as he darts off and climbs back under the blankets. He reaches over and pats the little spy on the belly. "Okay, spy, your turn."

Rizoel climbs out from under his spot of the blanket and crawls over the edge of the bed. "Okay, lift your shirt." He pulls his tunic up, or he should say, the borrowed tunic up, revealing his under garment and his toned, but slightly padded belly. He watches the Warden dab a bit of the lotion onto a clean rag and reach out smearing it over the first patch of pox, he watches as he moves from patch to patch, he reaches back slightly, fingers poised, and the Warden spots him despite his attempts for the other outcome. "That's it, mister." He pokes him in the belly and sets the bottle of lotion down against his leg, laying the rag over his knee, and reaches for a pair of mittens sitting next to him. "Give me those hands."

He grumbles, but does as he's told, pushing his left hand into the mitten held out for it, and then his right.

"These stay on until I say you can take them off."

Nodding, the younger angel lifts his tunic back up, and turns when the older angel spins his finger around. He finishes quick enough, and just as he had with the other, he pats him on the thigh lightly. "Okay, you, back in bed."

Bathed, covered in lotion, and laying in new sheets, they each cuddle down against their pillows as they watch their caretaker stand from the edge of the bed and cross over to set his bottle and rags, the last pair of mittens. Jahoel breaks his pouting stance as he watches his guardian move things around on his desk, curiousness taking over, smiling when he turns back to them, book in hand, and scoots over slightly as the older angel climbs up the bed from the bottom edge, and settles in between Barbados and Rizoel. Jahoel smiles, crawling under the blankets to climb up over him, feeling the comforting feeling of fingers threading through his curls, he can't stay upset when those fingers thread through his curls and begin scratching at his head, like a cat, he purrs, settling down for a cozy nap as he listens to him read the book's story over their heads.

The day has come to an end and he's all theirs.


	35. The Warden's Discipline (Thaddeus & Calathiel)

It started out as a normal day for him. Started out as usual, making a cup of coffee, Jahoel taking said cup of coffee, making another cup of coffee, going through the layout of the prisoners and their cellblocks, continuing on his plans to rearrange them all.

They had all been on their best behavior for him, not wanting to tempt fate, he'd been nice thus far, no one wanted to see what would happen when he finally cracked.

He knew things would come to a head eventually.

That new prisoner had been pushing the edge of the peace since he arrived.

He looks up as his office door opens, revealing the aforementioned prisoner and his guard escort, he sighs at the muzzle. "Why is he wearing that?"

"He bit Marmaroth."

He heaves another sigh. "He _bit_ Marmaroth."

"He had to get four stitches."

He rubs at his forehead. _It's going to be a long day._ Instead of addressing the guard, he turns to the prisoner. "You like biting people, do you?"

The prisoner grunts behind his muzzle, and he heaves another sigh, gesturing to the guard. "Remove the muzzle."

"But, sir—"

" _Remove_ it."

The guard nods stiffly, reaching back behind the prisoner for the latch on the muzzle, it clicks open, and he pulls the muzzle off the prisoner's mouth. He smacks his lips and smirks up at the guard, snapping at him quickly, the guard yelps jumping back. They both jump, prisoner and guard, when the Warden smacks his hand down on his desk, both turning to look back at him.

Thaddeus stares at the guard. "So, you _like_ biting people?"

He shrugs, smirking slightly. "It's a living."

"I see, let me show you what I do to those who think they can bite _my_ guards and get away with it." He pushes his chair back, rising to his feet, he waves the guards back and they gladly do so. "I'll take him from here, thank you."

They nod, not needing to be told twice, and turn away quickly, walking briskly down the hall. He shakes his head at them, none of his prisoners are that fearsome, you just had to show them who was in charge, that they were not the baddest thing in this place.

He points a finger at the prisoner in warning. "You try and bite _me_ and find out what happens to you then."

"Is that a challenge?"

"I dare you to find out." He steps around him, snagging the minor by the collar, dragging him down the hall behind him. The young angel stumbles to keep up with him, his strides are long and fast, he towers over him, he silently curses himself for being so damn short. "You like biting things so much, I'll give you something to bite on."

His eyes widen at the implications of that statement, looking up at the entry way of the washroom as they enter through the arch, he's tugged around, to stand before the Warden. "Stand here." The older angel reaches for a new, wrapped bar of soap, he watches him unwrap it with wide eyes, taking a step back. A hand curls in the front of his tunic and tugs him back in place. "Open."

"MnMn." He shakes his head frantically, biting his lips closed, inching back a step. "You like biting, you can bite on this, open you mouth." "Mmnmm."

Thaddeus huffs, reaching up, and pries his mouth open. "Open, Calathiel." He shoves the bar of soap in and curls his hand around his mouth. "You spit it out, I'll keep it there _all_ night."

Calathiel shakes his head, his eyes wide, mumbling around the bar of soap in his mouth. He doesn't want that; he doesn't want to have the bar of soap in his mouth all night. It's gross and tastes bad and he doesn't like it. The Warden nods firmly, pulling his hand back, reaching out to snag his ear instead. "Good, now that we understand each other, we can move on."

He sniffles softly, a far cry from the troublesome attitude that had been in display just minutes prior, and stumbles forward as the Warden leads him out of the washroom. He's led back to the Warden's office and pushed to sit in one of the chairs across from the Warden's seat. He watches as the older angel slides a blank page to him and reaches for a pencil. "I want you to write one hundred lines, _'I will not bite',_ one hundred lines."

The younger angel nods lightly, looking up to him, meeting his stern eyes, and points to the bar of soap in his mouth.

"Oh, I know it's there, and there it will stay until you finish."

He whines softly, he likes to think he's tough, but he feels tears forming in his eyes.

The Warden points down to the page. "Go, the sooner you start, the sooner it comes out."

Calathiel nods, reaching up to wipe away a tear that escaped his eye, and bends over the page in front of him, scribbling out his first line. The Warden hums from over him, a warm hand presses between his shoulders, and he steps back around his desk, sitting back in his leather chair, and returns to what he had been doing before he had been interrupted.

He looks up at the sound of a soft sniffle, catching sight of a tear dripping down on the parchment under the young angel, and he sighs. He doesn't like being the bad guy in these situations. He leans forward, to see how far he's gotten, and sighs again, only half way there. He busies himself with readying a glass of water for when he finishes his lines, the soap is going to leave quite the aftertaste, but he'd learn, biting would only give him a mouthful of soap.

Looking back to his floor plans, he continues his planning, they were all in for a change in the next coming weeks.

The young angel breaths a soft cry, a whine mixed with a sob, and his writing shakes slightly, muffled around the bar of soap in his mouth, scribbling his last two lines, he sets his pencil down and slides the paper across the desk to his Warden.

Thaddeus looks up at it's sudden appearance, picking it up to examine, and nods, one hundred lines, writing sloppily, but done as he had ordered. He sets the parchment down and looks up at the tearful, pitiful little angel before him, Calathiel sniffs softly and rubs at his eyes.

"Do you like biting into that bar of soap?"

He shakes his head, a muffled cry escaping around the object in his mouth, and he reaches up to rub at his eyes.

"It's only been," the older angel looks down to his watch. "Five minutes." He looks back up to the young angel, pointing at him firmly. "You bite one of my guards again and I'll leave it in there for an _hour_ , do you understand me?"

Calathiel nods miserably, and he takes that as the acknowledgement that they're on the same page, reaching forward to take hold of the bar of soap, pulling it from his mouth gently. The young angel gags, rubbing at his mouth, sticking his tongue out at the nasty taste in his mouth, and he shakes his head in a amusement, passing him the glass of water he had set aside. The Warden leans on his elbows, over his desk, as he watches the younger angel gulp down the water. Smiling slightly, he reaches into the second drawer of his desk for a hankie, holding it out for the younger angel, Calathiel looks up at it, and sniffles again. "Clean yourself up, little guy."

Taking the hankie, hesitantly, he rubs at his eyes and at his nose.

He leans back in his chair. "Go ahead, ask your question, I can see it in your eyes."

The younger angel looks down to the hankie in his hands. "Can I sit with you?"

Thaddeus smiles slightly, scooting back a pace. "Sure, you can, kiddo, come on over here."

The little prisoner jumps up off his seat, rushing behind the desk, and curls himself up in the Warden's lap. He looks down as arms circle around his waist, pulling him back further on his lap, he feels something fuzzy rub against his cheek. "Do you want another glass of water?"

He nods. "Yes."

"Yes, _what?"_

"Yes, please."

He feels the Warden nod, reaching around him for the glass, filling it with water from the jug, and sets it in front of the young prisoner. Calathiel takes the cup in hand, downing the glass of water quickly, and he sets it down when he's done, leaning back against the Warden. "Sorry I bit the guard."

"Are you going to do it again?"

Calathiel shakes his head. "No, sir."

"Good, angel."


	36. The No Good Dirty Rotten Terrible Day (Gadreel, Abner, & Thaddeus)

He knew it wasn't going to be a good day right from the beginning. He woke up in pain, his whole body aching, bad weather was coming in over them, instead of bright and sunny, the sky was a rolling mass of gray, storm clouds gathering above them and waiting for the perfect moment to open up over top of them.

He skipped breakfast, he didn't feel much like eating, much to the concern of those around him, and followed Tus out to the training field, they'd continue on as normal until lightning flashed across the sky, and he'd help the gentle Power with his teaching until it did, as he usually did. Nearly two hours into training, the sky finally filled with light, opening up over them in the form of a downpour, and his favorite tunic was covered in mud as the trainees threw their training weapons in his arms as they ran for the shelter of the barracks. As he himself turned tail to return to the dry safety of the Pavilion, he tripped over a discarded sword, and fell into a large forming muddy puddle, he _knew_ this wasn't going to be a good day. He picked himself up though, continuing on for shelter, and bit his lip as he heard whispers about him and his clumsiness, it wasn't fault, just a byproduct of what he'd been through, besides, he'd tripped over a sword, something one of _them_ had left behind.

So he was dripping and cold and soaking wet, his favorite tunic soaked and muddy, with his feelings hurt by the whispers the others thought he couldn't hear, and he just stopped. He just quit. He wants to clean up, change into something dry and clean, something warmer, and climb back into his bed and stay there until this day ended and the next one started.

A few cursed at him softly as they ran into him from his sudden stop, and he sucked in a deep shaky breath, dropped the swords to the ground, and turned to run away. He ran passed Tus, and Nis, and the others, turning up the stairs that led to their living quarters above, his eyes stinging with tears that he refused to allow to fall until he was shut away in his room where no one could see.

Today was a _horrible_ day and he was ready for it to be over.

He runs through the Lounge, passed the two sitting at the table talking, and runs all the way down to his room, where he slams the door and comes to stand in the center of his room. That's where it all breaks down, the tears cascade over, and he just collapses, his knees giving out as he sobs, falling back to sit on his bottom like a fledgling having an episode of a fit. He rubs the mud out of his eyes, off his hands, and sobs deeply, burying his face in his hands.

Someone knocks on his door. "Grasshopper?" He hears the locking mechanism click open. "Grasshopper, what's wrong?" Gentle fingers curl around his hands and pull them away from his face, and he looks up with teary puffy eyes to meet those of his big brother, Thaddy smiles at him softly. "What happened, grasshopper, you're all muddy."

"T-Today has b-been _horrible!_ " He wails softly. "M-My favorite tunic is r—ruined and I—I tripped into a m-mud puddle and t-they were all saying s-so many mean things a-about me and-and I just w-want it to be _over_!"

"Oh, grasshopper, it most certainly looks like it's been a rough day for you."

"Let's get you cleaned up." Abner appears behind the Warden, carrying a basin of water and a sponge, a towel draped over his arm. "That always makes me feel better."

Thaddeus nods in agreement, helping him pull his soaked and soiled tunic over his head. "Your favorite tunic will be alright, we'll get it washed nice and clean, and it'll be as good as new." Thankfully, with his tunic and long trousers and boots, most of his body is clear of mud, it's primarily his hair and face and neck. The Warden helps him up, out of his trousers, and sets him to sit on the edge of his bed.

The angel behind him passes him a rag to wipe away as much mud as he can, before they trade places, Gadreel hiccups softly as his older brother cleans him up, washing away the mud from his face and hair, leaving him clean and refreshed. Thaddy returns as Abner leaves for a moment, and helps him into one of his tunics, it's bigger, it's one of Thaddys, and he rubs the ends of the sleeves balled into his fists over his eyes as more tears gather.

"Hey, no more tears, it's okay." Strong warm hands curl around his cheeks, thumbs rubbing away the tears just as they begin to fall, and he's forced to look up at the older angel. "You just let go, let us take care of everything, you've had enough today."

He nods, letting his older brother guide him around against his pillows, laying him back. He pulls the covers up around him, and kicks his boots off, crossing around to the other side of the bed, he slides in beside him, pulling him close against his side, and he scratches lightly at his shoulders.

"Here we go, lets have some fruit." Abner returns again, with a bowl of sliced fruit, and sits on the edge of the bed. "Mango, your favorite, you missed breakfast this morning. A full belly will help you feel better too. Open up," he holds out a piece of fruit for him to take, and he plops it in his mouth when he opens up, and nods when he slowly chews the fruit and swallows, opening his mouth for another piece. He's finished the bowl before he knows it, and he's right, his belly being full does help him feel just a bit better. "Now, let's take a nap before supper time." He kicks off his boots as well and climbs in on his free side. "And, you _are_ eating supper." Thaddy nods on his other side. "Not optionable."

"Hey, turn over on your tummy." Abner scratches at his cheek lightly. "And, we'll scratch your shoulders, that always makes you feel better."

Thaddy helps him turn around. "Makes you very sleepy too."

He settles over top of them, they slide together when he's up, and he settles over their legs, his arms spread out, his cheek pressing against the top of Thaddy's left thigh, and he sighs in comfort when he feels them scratching around his shoulders. They're right, it does make him feel better, he yawns slightly, and it makes him sleepy.

He's asleep in a little over three minutes, resting peacefully with his two big brothers to watch over him, and they strike up their conversation where they had left it off when Gadreel had come running passed them to his room.

That's when Tus comes around the corner, and he smiles at the sight of them, knowing that they would have caught up to the little Sentry when he ran passed them. "Is he okay?"

Abner continues scratching at his shoulders, and they both look up at him, Thaddy rubs his free hand through the hair on the side of the sleeping Sentry's head. "It's been a bad day."

The Power frowns. "Aww, is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, we have him."

His smile returns, honestly, they're both so enamored with the little angel between them. "Alright, I'll come get you when suppers ready."

"Thanks, Tus."

"Thank you."

He nods, leaving them then, to clean up and do a few things of his own, and they return to their conversation, still scratching at the young Sentry's shoulders.

A good few hours pass by, and their little companion sleeps through the entire time, a rough day will do that to you, and sleeping in good company will keep you out. Tus pokes his head around the corner to tell them that supper is done, and they nod, looking down to their sleeping companion.

Thaddeus smiles slightly and reaches out to poke him in the side, wiggling his finger a bit, the younger angel squirms slightly and bites out a sleepy giggle. "Time to wake up, little grasshopper."

Gadreel squirms away from his wiggling finger, leaning more so over onto Abner, and giggles softly when the finger follows. "Just a little bit longer."

Abner chuckles softly, reaching down to wiggle his finger into the little Sentry's other side, Gadreel shrieks softly and wiggles from side to side under their gentle attack. "Nope, it's time to get up, supper is ready, and you, mister, are having supper."

"I thought we said it was nonnegotiable?"

"I think we did."

Gadreel shrieks and giggles as he pushes himself up, and smiles at his two older brothers, they always know how to cheer him up. "Stop! It tickles!"

"You think this tickles," Thaddy scratches a finger over the side of his neck and he scrunches up slightly. "If you don't get out of bed and get out to that table, we'll turn you over and have a go at that belly."

"Yea," Abner scratches a finger over the other side of his neck. "And, we'll make sure that _really_ tickles."

His eyes widen at their threat, knowing that they're serious, he gulps softly. "Okay, I'll get up!" And he crawls over Abner's legs to climb out of bed, only for the back of his tunic to be tugged on, and he's yanked back, pulled back to lay over their laps, and they smile down at him deviously. "It's okay if we're a little late."


	37. Just Always So Busy (Thaddeus & Jahoel)

"Jahoel, did you take my keys?" He turns around from the desk in his room, having searching it a thousand times, and not finding the elusive set of keys, and turned to the one reclining on his bed, who had a history of taking keys. "I can't find them anywhere, and I _know_ I put them on my desk."

The boy looks up from the book he was reading. "What keys?" He tilts his head to the side.

Thaddeus narrows his eyes slightly. " _My_ keys."

Jahoel leans over, reaching into his pocket, and pulls out a ring of keys. "These keys?"

"Give me my keys, Jahoel." He holds his hand out. "I have to get downstairs."

The younger angel shakes his head lightly, curling the keys in his fingers, and turns back to his book. "Nah, thanks though."

"Jahoel, give me my keys. I'm being serious."

Jahoel holds a finger up, finishing his page, marks it, and closes the book, setting it down beside him on the bed. He holds the keys out to him mockingly, smirking smugly, the Warden couldn't go anywhere without his keys. "Why don't you come and take them, then."

"Are you…Are you _challenging_ me?"

"Does it sound like a challenge?"

"It sounds like a challenge to me."

Jahoel shrugs his shoulder, curling his fingers around the keys again, and pulls his fist back. "Then, yes, I'm challenging you."

Thaddeus smiles at him wickedly. "Oh, ho, ho, I accept your challenge, little guy, I hope you don't expect to win." He takes a step forward, then another, and Jahoel shrieks when the man jumps over him, grunting loudly when he lands over top of him.

The boy grins at him, holding the keys up above his head, shaking his head. "Oh, I'm pretty confident."

"Oh, but I _know_ who's going to win." He positions himself into just the right position. "And, it's not you."

"Prove it."

"Alright, just remember, you asked for this."

He pulls the boy's tunic up, takes a deep breath, and rushes down to bury his face in his belly. Jahoel's eyes widen, a shriek pulled from him from the action, and immediately he has second thoughts. It wasn't like he was up to no good, Thaddy had just been rather busy recently, and they hadn't gotten to spend much time together, he just wanted a bit of time with him.

Jahoel throws his head back, squealing brightly when he finally blows his raspberry, both of his hands flying down to push at his head. "EIEEIIEAIAIHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA!"

Thaddeus chuckles, snagging his keys from the youngling's fingers, and winks up at him. "I win."

The boy frowns lightly and he raises an eyebrow. "Please don't go yet, Thaddy, I haven't gotten to see you _all_ week."

"Ah, I see," the Warden nods lightly. "You just want to spend some time together."

Jahoel nods silently. "You've been really busy lately."

"I can make some time for you, Oel, don't worry." He reaches back and tucks his keys in his pocket, looking back down to the boy's belly, eyeing it over carefully. "I can make some time right now, in fact." He takes another breath and rushes back down, burying his face back in his belly, and Jahoel shrieks again, his fingers curling in the Warden's hair.

"EEIEIAIIAIAIAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH NOHOHOHOHOHOO! EEIIEIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHHAHAHHAA EEIEIEIAIIAIAIAIHHAHAHAHHAAHHAHA THIS ISN'T WHAT I MEANT AAHAHHAHHAHEIEIEIEAIIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA!"

"This isn't what you meant?" He looks up at him, digging his fingers in his lower belly, wiggling them in viciously. "I do still have to punish you for taking my keys."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're gonna be."


	38. The Prison Guards

He smiled to the guard posted on the outside, patting her shoulder lightly, Aeshma smiles at him and opens the door to the Prison for him. He hates making his rounds through this place, it's always so dreary, and though there is no longer any torturing going on under the new command of the place, the screams still echo through the halls when one stands in one place for too long. It's left a shadow, a gloominess over this place, not that it's ever been a happy feeling that accompanies the Prison, it's darkness seems amplified because of the history this place has.

There's not many prisoners now, the few that can't be released into the general population, though there was many who found themselves trapped behind these bars, there were only a few who truly deserved it.

Naomi used to have a place here, but she'd been given the ultimate consequence by the Healer, and thus her cell was cleared out and ready for use should it arise. Zachariah has a cell here, he's a spiteful little angel, and would be here for the rest of his days, unless someone thought he was one deserving of a second chance. And that second chance would only come in the form of the Healer and the Viceroy, it was them he had betrayed, and it was them who could give clemency. Metatron has a cell her too, his crimes vast and long listed, a good one for trying ones patience. He still had his grand disillusions that he was meant to have a Throne among the Council, he was the scribe of _God_ , he was more important than any of them. Father had a new scribe, young Ishariel, she was a breath of fresh air against the older scribe; sarcastic, energetic, some might even say a bit loose lipped. She was not afraid to make her opinions known. Those were the most well known prisoners.

Most noticeably, on his part though, the place just beyond the door was empty.

There was a guard posted on the outside of the Prisons entrance, and on the inside of the Prisons entrance, no one got in and out without passing one of the guards.

Setting his clipboard on the empty stool, he looks about in the empty cells, there was no sign of the one meant to be posted here. "Teme?"

His voice echoed off the stone walls as it travelled down the long hall of empty cells, and he frowned at the lack of return, looking down the hall to his right, he waited for a moment for anything to show itself. "Temeluch?" And then down the hall on his left. Nothing but the echo of his own voice.

"I'm here."

Titus sighs in relief at the return of his call, it comes from before him, his guard walks slowly down the halls of cells towards him, his fingers curled around the staff of his spear loosely. Temeluch smiles at him lightly, and he returns the gesture, reaching forward as he comes to stand before him to squeeze his shoulders firmly. "Where were you?"

"I was getting a drink."

The Power nods at him, taking in his appearance, the bags under his eyes aren't as pronounced as they were previously, he's been sleeping better in this found peace between them all once more. The guards of the Prison needed just a bit more attention then the others did, the things they had seen, the things that had been forced to participate in, it left them haunted. He checked in on them regularly, they needed extra care, a helping hand to get them better again. Temeluch and Aeshma guarded the door, inside and out, often the last semblance of freedom some had seen as they were dragged to their fate. He was sure there was a number of souls who had latched onto the two guards as they were carried in, begging for help, begging for understanding, begging for the freedom they could not provide.

There had been many escape attempts that had been made, and it had been Temeluch who had the task of stopping them from doing so, catching them at the door and passing them back to the guards that would come running up for them, watching as they screamed as they were dragged away again.

"How are you doing, Teme?"

"I'm okay. I talk to Shamsiel every morning like I'm supposed to."

"Good boy." He pats his cheek lightly. "And your nightmares?"

Teme rubs at his head lightly. "Not as frequent as they were." He leans around the Power to set his spear to lean on the stone wall. "The only ones we guard now are Zachariah and Metatron." He makes a face. "I've never wanted to harm someone so much in my lifetime. All he does is go on and on and repeat."

"The fact that you haven't succumbed to such temptation makes me immensely proud."

"I am alright." The guard shrugs lightly. "As alright as one can expect."

"Good, good." Titus eyes him carefully, well fed, not too spent, sleeping as he should, and taking care of himself as he should. "You look well."

"I feel well."

He chuckles lightly. "Good, good." Titus pokes his belly swiftly. "And, you remember to smile?"

Temeluch smiles, stepping away from him, curling an arm around his belly. "I do. I don't need reminded."

The tall Power chuckles again, reaching forward to poke him again, snorting when his hand is smacked away. "Are you sure?" He manages to sneak in a poke just under his hand. "I'm be more than happy to assist you."

"I don't need help. I'm fine."

"If you're sure." He wiggles a few fingers at the guard anyway and Temeluch swallows a giggle, his captain knows how to turn them into squirming fledglings, he watches his fingers very closely. "Remember when you were a small, runt of a fledgling, riding around on my foot, following me everywhere I went." He wiggles his fingers again. "And, how I'd make you squeal like the little fledgling you were." He leans forward. "I could do that again."

"Please, don't."

The Power smiles, poking him in the side playfully. "Why?" He pokes him again and the guard jumps slightly. "Still as sensitive as you were all that time ago?"

"Sir, please."

"You calling me that only makes me want to do it even more."

" _Tus!"_ Teme jumps away from him when he reaches out again. "Please! _Please!_ "

"Maybe not here." He leans over for his clipboard. "But I'll have you rolling in the grass of the Garden again."

Titus smiles at him from over his clipboard. "But not here. Since you asked so nicely." He taps his clipboard with his quill. "Are you keeping up with your training?"

"Training?"

"If you decide to be cheeky about it," he points a finger at him warningly. "I'll change my mind."

"I'm keeping up on my training."

"Good boy." He checks off something. "Any incidents to report?"

"None over here. Though, Sorath is half about ready to punch Metatron in the face."

"I see," Titus tucks his clipboard under his arm, gesturing for the door at the other end of the hall. "Are they just beyond there?"

"Just beyond there, the prisoners were just fed."

"I thank you, Teme, you may return to your duty."

The guard of the door nods, taking his spear back in hand, he sits on the stool to the side of the door. Titus smiles at him as he steps forward, patting his head as he leaves him to sit there, listening to him tap on the metal door beside him, his sister tapping back from outside, they never cease to amaze him.

Just beyond the hall, behind the door that separates one wing from the other, is where they keep the prisoners. Where the other guards are located, just posted outside the cells, Zachariah has learned to keep quiet, Metatron was still learning that particular lesson.

Titus examines his clipboard as he closes the door behind him. "Sorath, put him down."

"He needs to learn to close his mouth."

"I said," the Power looks up at him from over his clipboard. "To put him down."

"Or what?"

"If you need reminded on what happens to those who disobey my order, I can remind you," he lowers his clipboard. "Right here, right now, for everyone here to see."

Sorath had been a Power elect once, his attitude had taken that privilege from him, but Titus was never one to give up on those who needed some assistance. Sorath was talented in his position, he knew his way around a sword, but his temper was a short fuse, that was one of his only weaknesses. He'd taken Sorath under wing, showed him what happens when he loses his temper, and helped him control his anger.

It was a work in progress.

Sorath drops the exiled scribe in his cell and steps back. "No, I don't need to be reminded."

"Good." The Power crosses easily to his side, grips his sleeve, and tugs him away from the cell door. "Sit back down, here." He scratches a few fingers through his hair. "Take a deep breath." Sorath takes a deep inhale of breath. A moment passes and he smacks him lightly over the head. "Let it out, you little idiot."

Sorath snorts as he lets his breath go. "You only said to hold it."

"I'll hold _you_." He grips the back of his tunic, by the collar, and scratches a finger behind his left ear. The temperamental guard slaps a hand over his mouth before a fledgling like giggle can escape his lips. "Is he getting on your nerves, Sora?"

"He makes me want to strangle him."

Titus nods. "Don't do that, you're doing so good Sora, you've been minding your temper." He tugs at his ear lightly. "I haven't had a report come across my desk in nearly three months."

The Power rubs his head lightly, turning to the cell behind them, he snaps his arm through the cell bars and snags the uppity scribe up by the scruff of his plain tunic. "You're going to shut your mouth, sit on your cot, and eat your supper."

"I—"

"Metatron." The Power pulls him close, his front pressing against the bars, until they're face to face. "You _are_ going shut your mouth, sit on your cot, and _eat_ your supper. Or so help me, I will come in there, and I _know_ you don't want that."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try my patience. Who would tell on me, myself, or my guards? See who comes out on this one, Metatron." He shoves the prisoner back. "Now, shut up, and eat." The scribe stumbles back, stunned into silence, and sits on his cot to eat his supper.

He turns to his other two guards. "Osmadiel, Rahab, how are you two doing?"

"Hi Tus!" His female guard rushes forward, hugging him around the chest tightly, and he laughs softly as he circles his arms around her. "Hello, Ra."

Rahab is a rarity among those that take station at the Prison, her disposition is too bright for such a dreary place, he's offered her time and time again to be reassigned but she always takes to coming back here every time. No hesitation. She loved her station.

She smiles and bounces back, tucking a stray red curl behind her ear. "We missed you, Tus!"

"You missed little old me?"

"You're not little!" She throws her hands out. "You're _huge_!"

Titus narrows is eyes slightly. "You mean tall, right, _'huge'_ as in _'tall'_ , right?"

"Well, yea!" She smiles up at him brightly. "You're a giant!"

"And you, you're a little sprite, you know that?" He pokes her nose and she giggles softly, hugging him again before stepping back for her stool. Osmadiel smiles up at him. "I've been well."

"Good, good." He turns to the one beside Sorath. "And, you, Sabaoth?"

"I'm doing well, too, Tus."

"That's great to hear, and you're all sleeping through the night?"

Osmadiel looks to his sister, her bubbly demeanor fades just a bit, as she looks down to her feet. "Ra still has nightmares some times, but we're all doing better."

He looks to the young guard with concern. "You still have nightmares, how often?"

"Not too often," she scuffs the toe of her boot against the floor. "Just sometimes."

"Have you told Jahoel about them?"

Titus frowns lightly when she shakes her head, after a moment of silence, and he pets her curls softly, she looks up at him guiltily. "I didn't think they were that important."

"Of course, they're important." He kneels, brushing his knuckle under her chin. "I want you to go see Jahoel in the morning, alright?" She nods. "And, tell him about these nightmares, too."

"Okay." She nods lightly. "I'm sorry, Tus."

"Hey." He tilts her head up. "No harm."

Rahab smiles up at him. "You're great, Tus."

"Only as great as you are."


	39. Sleeping Soundly (Sorath, Sabaoth, & Titus)

Sabaoth watched him with the eye of a careful older brother, as his shoulders hunched up, seemingly sinking in on himself, Sorath had been rather quiet since the start of their shift earlier that morning. He elbows his brother in the side gently, Osmadiel turns to him inquisitively, and he nods at the younger guard sitting on his stool before him. The other guard leans forward, nodding in understanding, to spy on the youngest guard with care.

He sits back with a smile, leaning over to the oldest guard carefully, speaking softly as to not disturb the younger one. "He's sleeping."

The oldest guard shakes his head slightly, a fond and amused smile overcoming his features. "Someone stayed up later then they should have playing last night." He reaches forward, curling his fingers around the youngest guards shoulders, cooing softly when he pulls him back, and the young angel starts to wake, urging him back to sleep as he settles back against him, tucked into the crook of his shoulder, Sabaoth curls his arms around the younger angels waist and pulls him closer.

Sorath yawns softly, and nods against his shoulder, his fluffy hair rubbing against the side of his chin.

Their prisoner snorts condescendingly, and he turns a quick glare into his cell, taking favor in the chill that crawls down the scribe's spine and the way he shivers as it does. "You wake him up, and I'll _beat_ you."

Their youngest friend sleep for most of the day, leaning back against the one he considered a close older brother, tucked into his shoulder. He comes to consciousness to the sound of soft rumbling words coming from the chest he was laying back against, he yawns again, rubbing his eyes slightly, and looks around.

Rahab waves at him with a bright smile.

Osmadiel smiles at him softly, nodding his head slightly.

The chest rumbles under him again and a bristly bearded chin rubs against the side of his forehead. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Hmmm…" He rubs at his eyes again. "How long was I asleep?"

"For a fair portion of the day. You stayed up late playing, didn't you?"

He nods sheepishly and sighs, leaning back against his older brother again, Sabaoth doesn't seem to mind, resting his chin on top of his head and turning back to the conversation he had been having with Osmadiel next to him. Sorath inevitably falls back to sleep once more, tucked back against his older brother.

Sabaoth smiles when he feels his breathing even out. "Is he asleep?"

Osmadiel leans forward, smiling slightly, and looks back with a nod. "Fast asleep."

…

"Tus!" The Power turns at the sound of his name being called, grunting as he's forced a step back when a body slams into his, laughing softly as he curls his arms around the smaller angel in turn. "You're back!"

"Well, hello, little angel." Large warm fingers rub through the hair on the back of his head. "I didn't think I'd be missed this much."

"I missed you a lot!"

Nisroc chuckles next to them, and he turns to look up at him, smiling lightly as he stroked his fingers through the dark light locks of the young prison guard. "He's asked about your return for nearly the entire duration of your absence."

Titus smiles at the admission, looking down to his youngest guard, brushing his lips over the top of his forehead. "I missed you too, Sora."

"You did?" The young guard pulls back slightly, looking up at him with wide piercing eyes, smiling brightly at his captain's return. "You really missed me?"

"Of course, I missed you, you're my little angel, how could I not?"

"I'm so happy you're back!" The young guard curls around him again. "I missed you so much!"

"I'm glad, little angel." He pets the back of his guard's head lightly. "Did you behave yourself?"

Sorath nods quickly. "I was really good! I didn't get into any fights or anything! Metatron made me mad, I'm sorry, I hit him, but Saba made it all better again! He helped me with my Legos and read to me! You have to see, Tus, we finished the big one! It's so cool! It's a dragon!"

"I see, you'll have to show me."

"Can I show you now?" The young guard pulls back slightly, tugging at his arm. "Can I?"

Nisroc chuckles at him, waving them along. "Don't keep your boy waiting."

Titus chuckles softly, nodding to his young guard, letting him tug him forward for the stairs down from the Pavilion. He nodded along to his words as he chattered, walking at his side, fingers curled into the sleeve of his tunic, leading him forward to his room to show him this magnificent dragon.

"Tus!" A small flash of red appears from a doorway and he grunted again as another small body rammed into his side, he smiled though, curling his arm down around her, and kissed the top of her head fondly. "You're back! Did'cha miss us?"

"Of course, I missed you, Ra." He squeezes her closer for a moment. "Did you miss me?"

"More than anything!"

"Awww, thanks, baby girl."

Rahab smiles up at him, then to the younger guard hanging on to his sleeve. "Is Sora going to show you his dragon?" She giggles when he nods excitedly. "It's really cool Tus! Sora and Saba worked on it so hard!"

"Did they?"

"They did!"

He chuckles softly. "I'll have to see this dragon for myself then, I don't want to miss out on anything."

Rahab bounces lightly, pulling herself out from under his arm, and nods excitedly. "Show him, Sora, he's gonna love it!"

"I will! I will!"

She smiles brightly and retreats back into her room. Sorath takes that as his opportunity to tug him forward again, chattering on excitedly about everything him and Saba had done while he was gone, tugging him into his room to see his treasured dragon.

"See!" He's tugged over to stand before the shelf that contains his Lego creation. "It's it cool!"

"It's mighty interesting, Sora." He tugs the little guard into his side. "Did you do this all by yourself?"

"No, Saba helped!"

"He did?"

"I did." They both turn to the doorway, Sabaoth smiles at them, leaning against the doorframe. "Welcome back."

Titus smiles at him, scratching at the young guards arm lightly from where he's positioned against his side. "You kept an eye on him?"

The older guard nods, pushing away from the doorframe, and enters the room. "I did, we had one incident, but otherwise he was on his best behavior."

He looks down at the younger guard against his side. "That's what I like to hear, little angel, perhaps another trip to a toy store is in order."

Sorath bounces slightly in excitement. "Really? Really, Tus?"

"Sure, good little angels get new toys, and you've been a good little angel."

He pumps his fist, bouncing again in excitement, and they both chuckle at the young guard in their midst.

Sabaoth crosses behind them, coming to stand behind the young guard, and reaches his arms around him. "We also made new discoveries."

Titus tilts his head, smiling slightly at the two of them, his mind whirling at the possibilities the new discovery could be. "New discoveries?"

The elder guard nods, wiggling his fingers into the younger guard's sides, Sorath shrieks, squirming against his older brothers grip. Titus chuckles, pulling away, watching fondly, as the older guard tugs him back into his chest, curling his arms around him, digging his fingers into the sides of his belly, Sorath shrieks, folding back against his older brother in a fit of laughter. "New discoveries, indeed."

"Oh, Sora, you found someone you trusted enough to tell them your secret?" Sorath squirms, laughing freely, trying to pull away from the fingers wiggling over his belly. "I'm happy for you, little angel."

Titus turns to face them, coming to stand in front of his two guards, he smiles down at the younger of the two. "I haven't gotten to give you tickles in the better part of two weeks." He wiggles his fingers down at him and the youngest guard shrinks back with wide shining eyes. "Let me catch up."

…

He was ready for bed, settling down under the covers, leaning back against his pillows, a book in hand, ready to just take in the feeling that was being back in his room, in his home, with his family. He had his fun with his little angel, made him nice and giggly, before tucking him into bed. He'd seen to his other guards, making sure that they knew he was back, and they'd been just as excited to see him as Rahab had been, though none so much as Sorath had been.

He's washed up, in their own wash room, changed into new clean clothes, and prepared himself for a quiet night in his own bed, in his own room, surrounded by the ones he loved.

Taking a sip from the glass of juice on his bedside table, he settled back in his pillows, and opened the book in his lap, and it was over the edge of the book that he noticed his door open slightly. Lowering the book, frowning slightly in confusion and wonder, he gazed imploringly at the door to see who had come for him.

Sighing softly, he lowered his book completely, when he finally took in the sight that awaited him.

Sorath stood there, hugging his stuffed dolphin to his chest, looking very much like a fledgling that had been caught out of bed after bedtime.

"Sora?" He sets his book in his lap. "Is everything okay?"

He nods softly, shrinking into his dolphin, mumbling softly.

"If everything's okay, then you should be in bed." Titus crosses his arms loosely. "I already tucked you in, Sora, I'm not coming down to do it a second time."

"No, no, I just…" The young guard tugs at the dorsal fin of his dolphin friend. "I just really missed you, Tus."

"Ah, I see," the Power nods softly, scooting over to the other side of the bed, pulling the corner of the blankets down. "Do you want to sleep here tonight?"

Sorath nods shyly. "Yes, please."

"Then, come here, little angel." He pats the free side of the bed. "Climb in."

The youngest guard smiles, scurrying from the door to the bed, climbing under the blankets, he lays next to his captain stiffly. He's having none of that.

Titus brushes his hair back. "Loosen up, baby angel, come'ere." He tugs on the guards sleeve gently. "Come on, get comfortable." Sorath smiles shyly and ducks under his arm, the one that was raised for him to do just that, and settles against his side, stuffed dolphin tucked under his arm, head resting on the side of his chest, he nuzzles closer comfortably.

The Power smiles softly, scratching his fingers over the young guards shoulder, and opens his book again. "I'll read to you, but you better be asleep by the end of the chapter, got it?"

Sorath nods, yawning softly. "Okay, Tus."

"Good angel."

He's asleep by the third page, his dolphin curled in his arm, the fingers of his free hand curled lightly in the Power's tunic, Titus looks down at him, smiling softly. He reaches up, scratching lightly at his head, Sorath mumbles and nuzzles closer. "Sleep well, baby angel." He reads on a bit longer, his head resting against the young guards, before he sets his book aside, turns down the oil lamp, and settles down with his young guard for a good night's rest.


	40. Finding What Was Lost (Thaddeus & Sasha)

He found them on accident, while he was cleaning out the drawers of his desk, in the bottom right drawer was a box full of photos. He set the lid of the box aside, reaching in to pull one of the photos out, a little babe, bundled in a pale pink blanket. The baby, a girl, is in his arms, he's smiling, this baby is someone close to him. He flips the photo over, reading the writing on the back, the script is not his.

' _Daddy and daughter meeting for the first time.'_

He smiles as he flips the photo back over, rubbing a finger over the babe's face. That's right, he has a daughter. What's her name again? _Avagayle_ , but she prefers another name, ever since she was a small wilily toddler, _Ava_.

Thaddeus smiles as he reaches in the box for another photo. He has a daughter, her name is Avagayle, but she prefers to go by Ava. He has a _daughter_. He chooses another photo, this one is a small child, a toddler, sitting behind a birthday cake with a pink number _'1'_ in the center. She's turning one, it's her birthday, he sees himself behind her, leaning over her head, lighting the candle. At his side is a woman, the same colored hair as the little girl he leans over, that must be the mother, he cannot remember her name for the life of him.

" _Mary."_

The mother's name was Mary.

He pulls out another photo, another one of the birthday party, this one is the two of them. He's sitting next to her, his eyes squeezed closed, face scrunched up, as she pushes a piece of cake into his face. It makes him laugh softly at the sight of it.

In the lower left drawer he finds another box, humming in curiosity, he pulls the lid to that box open and sets it aside, reaching in, he curls his fingers around the edge of a piece of parchment. It's a doodle, a drawing, rather crude, but he can make out what it is. There's a tall figure, that's him, and he's holding what looks to be the hand of a smaller figure, he knows who that is too, he runs his fingers over the smaller figure.

"Sasha."

He folds the picture up carefully, tucking it into his pocket, he lifts both boxes up with him as he stands and sets them on his desk.

Walking out from behind his desk, he walks from the office, closing the door behind him, and makes his way down the hall towards the way out. "Saba your in charge while I'm away."

"Of course."

He smiles at the two guards posted at the entrance as he makes his leave, taking the steps down to the Axis quickly, he makes his way to the Pavilion and the Training Field. Nisroc had all the answers to his questions, he would surely know the answer to this one as well, the whereabouts to his little charge. He smiles in remembrance, he'd loved the little angel like Tus loved Sora, like he was a son, they fun they used to have together. They played together in the midst of all the cells, playing hide and seek, a game of tag, he used to ride around on his shoulders as he made his rounds, when he wasn't off playing with the guards, and _he_ would play with his little toes because there was no where for him to go all the way up on his shoulders.

Sasha, he had the cutest giggles, the bubbliest laugh. He could soak it all up.

He searched over the heads of the trainees, trying to see if he could spy the familiar head over the seas of training warriors, nothing came into view, and he sighed sadly, what if he wasn't even a warrior, what if he became a messenger or a healer, maybe a choir angel. He may never be able to find him again, what if Nis didn't know where he was, what if he was just gone for good.

Thaddeus spies the one he's looking for, Nisroc stands out like a sore thumb, standing straight before a group of training young angels, his hands crossed behind his back, watching them all closely.

"Nis," he reaches out as he draws closer, tugging on the Power's sleeve lightly. "You have to help me."

The Captain turns at the sound of his voice, his eyes wide in surprise at his being there, clearly not having expected to see him this early in the morning. He curls the fingers of his right hand around the Warden's upper arm. "Yes, Thaddy, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Well, yes, actually, no, sort of. I was cleaning out my desk and found these boxes and they had photos and drawings in them, and I remembered," he tugs on his sleeve desperately. "Sasha, what happened to Sasha? Did Naomi get him too? Do you know if he's okay?"

Nisroc smiles down at him, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I was wondering when you were going to ask about him. He saw your whip in my room and asked about you. I told him what happened." He turns, gesturing to one of the boys in the second row. "He's fine. I took him in after the War. He's got quite the mischievous side, which comes as a surprise, given his quiet personality."

Thaddeus smiles in remembrance. "It's always the quiet ones you have to look out for."

"Do you want to see him?"

He gets the jitters suddenly. "I don't know…..Does he want to see me…..Is he upset….What if he doesn't want to see me?" He twiddles his fingers. "Did…Did I hurt him?"

The Power shakes his head slightly. "No, you didn't, thankfully. I think he knows that Prison just a bit more then you do."

"It wouldn't be surprising, he was always the best at hide and seek, I always ended up giving up."

"He's been wanting to see you," Nisroc turns back to the boy in question. "He just wasn't sure how to approach you. But we can change that," he turns back to his training class and raises his hand, they all come to a panting halt, turning to wait for his command. "Take five, Sasha, I need you."

The young man in question tilts his head in question, he hasn't been spotted yet, and he smiles as he watches the young trainee swipe a sweat drenched curl from his eyes, he's always let his curls hang wild. He comes around from behind the remaining members of the crowd, rubbing his curls back, and he feels a smile forming over his features at the sight of him.

His eyes widen as he finally spots him, and his advance comes to a grinding halt, as he stares at the Warden with a slacked jaw.

Thaddeus tries for a kind smile, it shakes a bit, but he manages. "Hey, Sasha." He waves a few fingers at him.

"Thaddy?" He sticks his sword into the ground and creeps closer. "Is it really you?" He reaches out tentatively, poking him in the chest, waiting tensely for a response. He doesn't swat his hand away, he doesn't snarl, he snorts softly, and nods. "You're really….Really you again?"

"I'm back, little guy." The Warden opens his arms slightly, nodding firmly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know I'd left, but I'm back, I'm not going anywhere. I found, I found this," he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the folded parchment, and unfolds it, holding it out. "I found this and it made me think of you." Sasha takes the creased drawing, smiling down at it as he gazes upon it, running a finger over the figures on the page. "I used to hang them up on the walls of my office, I don't know how they got taken down, but I must have remembered that they meant a lot to me, because they were in my desk."

"Thaddy!" The young angel throws himself forward, clutching the picture in one hand, as he throws his arms around his neck. "I missed you so much!" Thaddeus huffs softly, laughing airily as he curls his arms around the boy in turn, firmly, lifting him off his feet in their massive hug. Sasha laughs softly, pressing himself closer, staring up at him when he's set on his feet, the Warden caresses his cheeks, before reaching down and curling his arms around his waist. "Look at how big you've gotten!" He pulls him closer, and Sasha smiles at him, curling his arms around the older angel's chest. "You'll always be my little bug though, no matter how big you get."

"I missed you so much!" He presses his ear against the Warden's chest, listening to his heartbeat thump thump thump under his ear. "I _knew_ something was wrong! I knew it! You didn't want to play anymore, and you were always yelling, I _knew_ that wasn't you!"

"I'm back again, I'm not leaving, I'm here to stay." He cradles the back of his head, threading his fingers through his curls, pressing him closer to his chest, firmer. "I've missed so much of your life, I've missed you growing up, I've missed you choosing your flock, I've missed all your milestones."

"You can still be there to see me graduate."

"Of course, I'll be there." He presses his lips to the top of the young man's head. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." He pets his curls back. "I'm not going to miss anything ever again."

Sasha smiles against his chest, turning around, to look at the Power next to them.

Nisroc rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, and waves them away. "Go on, then, you can have the day. Lord knows, you'd just sneak away anyway." He waves them away as the others slowly trickle back. "Go, shoo, shoo, off with you."


	41. Knocking Down A Few Pegs (Thaddeus, Sabaoth, Rizoel, & Jahoel)

It was a well thought out plan, in their honest opinion, the planning they had put into it was one for the books. Jahoel had taken a look at the floor plans Thaddeus had made up when he was out for the day running errands, taking not of the placements, and made a quick adjustment to put their plan into action, blotting out one name and replacing it with another, and passed the pertinent information off to his partner.

He took advantage of his overseeing the rearrangement, on the assigned day, and picked the lock to his office with his hair pin. Peering over his shoulder, just to double check his safety, he crept into the empty office, they were getting a new guard soon, Thadd had just made a new set of keys. Jahoel knew, from proper research (read: snooping) that he kept the new keys in the middle drawer of his desk, he crept over the threshold of the office and stepped around the desk, pulling the middle drawer out, he smiled as he spotted the keys. Curling his fingers through the key ring, he lifted them up, holding them up before him.

Step one was a success.

Now on to step two.

They were moving the two high profile prisoners first, then Charlie Block, they were all being transferred to Alpha Block.

Sliding the drawer shut, he crept out of the office, closing and locking the door behind him. Taking the halls expertly, he knew them well, he came to the hustle of the change, the four guards escorting their prisoners to their new cells, the other guards herding the other prisoners.

He runs into one of them, stumbling forward, tripping over his feet. An innocent action. Nothing to be concerned with, he steadied himself, brushing his front down, the other apologized, saying he wasn't watching where he was going, and the keys exchanged hands.

Jahoel shrugs, coming to stand at the Warden's side, he sets his hand over his curls and turns his head around. "You okay, little guy?"

"I'm fine, you know me, always tripping over myself."

The older angel shakes his head in amusement. "I sure do."

…

He waits until the coast is clear, Jahoel said the guards always excused themselves at half passed six for supper, and he waited for his new neighbor to be left on his own, eating his own supper hotly, he still thought he was better then all of them, even locked behind these bars. He was one to talk, himself, but in the end, he would leave and the other would stay. Just as their soft conversation fell out of earshot, he reached under his mattress of the ring of keys his supplier had gifted him, and crept to the gate of his cell, peering first to the left, and then to the right, he nods to himself, it was his turn to complete his half of the mission. Reaching between the bars of his cell, he selects the skeleton key for the cell locks and sticks it in the key hole. The tumblers click and turn, the lock undoing itself, and he looks down to the right, then to the left, once more before he pushes his cell door open.

His target looks up from his supper as he sticks the key into the lock, he opens his mouth to say something when he throws the cell door open, and jumps in, cutting the Scribe off before he can even utter a sound. His fist sinking into smooth skin, the cracking of cartilage under his knuckles, brings him joy, immense pleasurable joy. Red, warm liquid drips from his knuckles when the call of alarm is made, someone yells from behind him, it echoes down the hall, heavy boots thump over the stone floor, coming closer and closer, and arms curls around his waist, pulling him up off the moaning angel he straddles. Someone else calls out, making their way down the hall, but he only has eyes for his masterpiece. That should shut him up, show him his place, knock him down a few pegs.

He's thrown around, his world spins as he is, away from the cell. Fingers snatch the keys out of his hand quickly, up and away from him, voice hover over his head.

"Saba, what happened?"

Someone blocks his view of his hard work.

"Os, go get a medic to look him over."

"What are you doing with that one?" Osmadiel gestures to him and he makes a face at being addressed as _'that one'_.

Sabaoth curls the fingers of his free hand around his upper arm firmly. "An attack on one of the prisoners, whether it be by guard or prisoner, must be brought to the Warden."

"Oof." The younger guard nods, looking in on the moaning scribe again. "I'll go get a medic."

He stumbles as he's yanked forward, they hadn't thought too far on the repercussions of their plan, they hadn't planned on being caught, Jahoel had never made mention of any of the four guards returning when they left for their supper. "You'd better hope he's in a good mood today." Well, if that's not ominous, he doesn't know what is.

They find the Warden overseeing the move into Charlie Block, Thaddeus turns at the sound of their approach, his arms crossed loosely, and raises an eyebrow at their appearance. "Saba, why are you dragging by the arm Rizo like that?"

Sabaoth thrusts him forward. "He attacked Metatron."

"He attack…. _How_?" The Warden looks between them both with raised eyebrows. "They were both locked in their cells."

"Oh, he got out quite easy with these." The guard holds up the keys he had confiscated just moments prior. "I don't know how he got them, but there is a single name that comes to mind for suspects."

Thaddeus takes the keys, his expression darkening as he looks down at them, curling his fingers around the keys tightly, his jaw sets as he looks back up at them. "Go find him." Rizoel stumbles forward when the Warden snags him by the front of his collar, his eyes widening as he's pulled up to stand chest to chest with him, there's a light glinting in his eyes, something that he's only heard rumors about, this is when he snaps, this is when he's going to clobber him. "We'll wait for you in my office."

He feels his breath catch as the Warden nods to the head guard for the cell block and turns, dragging him down the hall by the collar, he stumbles over his feet, regret sinking in where pleasure had once been, as they draw closer to the Warden's office. He stops them just before the door, and the younger angel finds himself confused, he was sure they would turn to the right for the torture room, that's what was going to happen now, he was going to live up to how the rumors portrayed him to be, this was it, this was when it happened.

His chest tightens minute by minute as the Warden reaches for the keys hooked to his belt, selecting the key to his office, he turns it in the lock, the tumblers click, and he pushes the door open.

Rizoel coughs slightly, his chest feels like it's concaving in, as they step (read: as he's dragged) into the office, and the Warden turns to look down at him with raised eyebrows. "Hey," he turns to face him. "Hey, it's okay." He curls his fingers around the younger angel's cheek. "Take a deep breath." He nods, huffing slightly, and inhales deeply, holding it until he's told to let it go, and when he does, after a long minute, his chest feels as though it's lightening up again. "There you go, it's okay, you may be here for discipline, but I'm not going to _hurt_ you."

"Y—You're not?"

He shakes his head, offering a comforting smile. "No, I'm not. What happened here before will never happen again. I'm going to discipline you, yes, but I'm not going to do _that_." He guides him forward gently. "Come on, take a seat, we're waiting for your partner in crime to arrive."

The younger angel huddles in his chair, trying to appear as small as possible, and twiddles his fingers slightly. "H—How do you know I didn't work alone?"

"Because, there's only one way you got these keys, and there's only one person who's ballsy enough to take them from my desk."

He nods silently, looking down to his lap, fiddling with his fingers again. They wait in silence, him huddled in his chair, and the Warden leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, rubbing the fingers of his right hand over his beard, and then the door opens. Someone yelps as they're dragged in and forcibly pushed down into the other seat, Sabaoth lets go of his collar and nods, looking back up to his boss. Thaddeus nods and he makes his leave, going back to his supper, he was sure it wouldn't be the last time he saw that little thief that night.

Thaddeus turns his attention to the other boy. "I'm glad you could join us, Jahoel."

He huffs, crossing his arms hotly. "I was in the middle of something."

"I'd be careful with that attitude if I were you." He taps his lips lightly. "I should warn you, the ice you're walking on is beginning to crack." He uncrosses his arms, reaching for the confiscated keys, holding them up for him to see. "Mind telling me how _these_ wound up in his possession?"

Jahoel stares at the keys for a moment, before shrugging lightly, trying to appear nonchalant. "How should I know, he probably got them on his own." Rizoel turns to look at him with wide eyes, but he wasn't fazed, it was every man for himself at this point. Thaddeus hummed, he was sure he did, and turned to the other boy. "Rizoel, where'd you get the keys?"

The spy crosses his arms, if he was going to stick up for _him_ , then _he_ wasn't going to stick up for him. "Jahoel gave them to me when he ran into me this morning." It was Jahoel's turn to look over at him with wide eyes, and he stared straight ahead, there was no love loss. Every man for themselves.

"One strike, Jahoel." The Warden holds up one finger to the other boy. "How did you know when to strike, Rizoel?"

"Jahoel told me when the guards would be taking their supper break."

"And that's two." Thaddeus turns back to the little spy. "Who planned this entire plot?"

"Jahoel came up with the idea."

"And, that's three." The older angel stands from his desk chair, gesturing for them to follow. "Move your chairs aside. Stand behind them."

They nod obediently, doing as they were told, and he watches them, his arms crossed, tapping at his lips again. "Jahoel, what did I say would happen if you took my keys again?"

The boy looks up at him. "That you would…No…..Thadd no….."

"Oh, that's not even the whole deal." Jahoel's eyes widen when his hands reach down for his belt, undoing the latch, and he backs up a step. "No….Thadd…Not that…"

"Since you're the mastermind behind this whole thing," he gestures to his kid. "You can go first, Jahoel."

"No, that's not fair…..Not that, Thadd….He deserved it!"

"Be that as it may, I don't tolerate violence in my Prison, step forward, bare yourself, and over the desk."

He shakes his head frantically. "No!" Jahoel takes another step back. "I'm not going to!"

"Oh, yes, you are." Rizoel takes a step back as the Warden surges forward, crossing to the other boys side in two long strides, and it's all kind of a blur after that. He blinks and Jahoel's held over the edge of the Warden's desk, the older angel's hand pressing between his shoulders, his trousers tugged down slightly, and his jumping, howling with every lash of the belt. He winces, none of the throws are being pulled, and curls into himself as the other boy's cries fall upon him, turning away from the scene unfolding before him.

They've made him angry, Thaddeus is furious with them, and he's showing them just how much they've infuriated him rather physically.

It seems to go on for an eternity, in his opinion, Jahoel's howls and yells morphing into gut wrenching sobs. He peeks up when the thwapping stops, watching the Warden tug his friends trousers back up, turning him around. He can't see the older angel's face, his expression, but he can tell what sort of expression might be, when he reaches up to curl his fingers around his face, he leans closer, whispering something, and Jahoel breaths a sob, nodding frantically to whatever it was he had said. Then the Warden straightens, and the other boy surges forward, curling around the older angel tightly, sobbing into his chest deeply.

He curls around him, rubbing at his back soothingly, threading his fingers through his curls. He whispers down to him again, and Jahoel shakes his head again, looking back up to him with red puffy eyes, he whispers again, and Jahoel deflates, nodding miserably, hugging himself close one last time before uncurling from around him.

The other boy mutters a soft apology to him as he departs, opening the door, and closing it behind him just as silently.

Thaddeus turns to him next, holding a hand out to him. "Come here, Rizoel."

The spy shakes his head. "No."

He sighs deeply. "Rizoel, as I'm sure you just saw, it's going to happen no matter how much you struggle against it. So, make it easier on yourself." He flexes the fingers of his outstretched hand. "You can hold my hand."

Rizoel nods slightly, reaching forward hesitantly, curling his fingers around the Warden's palm. Long, warm fingers curl around his, and he gently guides him forward, pulling him to stand before him, in front of the desk.

"Now, tug them down, bare yourself." He nods slightly, reaching down to tug his trousers down slightly. The fingers squeeze his hand lightly. "Good boy, now over the desk." Rizoel nods again, looking down to his hand, and those fingers squeeze his hand again. "You can hold onto my hand." He nods again, turning to face the desk, pulling the hand along with him, it makes for an awkward position, but it wouldn't be the first time he's disciplined someone in this position.

He gets no more then Jahoel did, from him at least, and when he's done, he's sobbing just as hard as the other boy had been. Sighing, Thaddeus leans over, setting his belt on the desk, and guides the little angel around with his clasped on hand, and curls around the little angel as he cries his little heart out.

"Ssshhhh, it's okay, we're done." He runs his fingers through his soft hair comfortingly. "Everything's all forgiven. You're okay. I've got you." He guides the younger angel around, they shuffle around his desk, and he sits back in his chair, pulling the little angel down into his lap. Rizoel sniffles miserably and buries his face into his neck, breathing out another cry, and he sighs, rubbing at the side of his head softly, curling him in his arms. "Let it out, little guy, let it out."

…

Jahoel sniffles, rubbing at his sore bottom, as he turns the numerous corners to their new cell block. He didn't want to have to tell him that he had used his trust the way he had, sharing the information he was given for nefarious purposes, but Thaddeus had told him to. That he deserved to know. So here he was, walking towards his doom, following the sound of his voice, he's having a conversation with someone, it sounds like Osy.

He turns the final corner and slows his pace, dragging his feet, Sabaoth's back is to him, but Os can see him approaching. He nods at him, giving Saba an indication that someone was approaching from behind, and he turns to peer over his shoulder to see who it could be.

"Jahoel."

He turns back around, he knew there was only one way for Rizoel to know when they wouldn't be there to stop his attack, there was only one prisoner (ex-prisoner) who knew their schedule. He knows how Rizoel knew, and he knows who told him, there's nothing to be said.

"Hi, Saba." The young angel pauses behind him, looking down when nothing is said in return, the other angel pointedly looking away from him. "I'm sorry, Saba."

" _What_ ever for?"

He looks down to his feet silently for a moment. "I was the one who told him your guys schedule."

"I see." Sabaoth nods, running his fingers through Sorath's hair, still not turning, not looking back at him. He doesn't want to lose Sabaoth, he'd been his first friend, the first one that had talked to him when he came here all the way back at the start of his first sentence. "What do you want?"

"We…We're still friends, right?"

"I don't know, Jahoel, are we?" He leans back slightly, pushing Sorath away lightly, and the younger guard sits up. He finally turns to look at him, turning on his stool, leaning forward on his elbows. "Friends are supposed to trust each other, right?" He tilts his head slightly. "Can I _trust_ you, Jahoel?"

"Yes!" He jumps forward slightly, the sting in his bottom, the thought of losing his first and best friend out ways any sting there might be. "Yes, you can! I'm sorry, Saba! I don't want to lose you! You're my best friend! I'm sorry!"

"Oh, Saba, he's sorry!" Rahab curls her hands under her chin, watching the two of them with wide sad eyes. "Everyone makes mistakes!"

"Yea, Saba, don't lead the kid on." Osmadiel pipes up from her side, watching them with crossed arms, leaning back against his new corner. "You're going to give him a heart attack. Just do what you have to do and give that kid some love."

Heaving a sigh, he shakes his head at them, it was all about finesse. Looking back up to the younger angel, he holds his hands out to him, Jahoel rubs at his eyes, looking between his hands. "Come on, Jahoel."

"W—What?" He backs up a slight step. "B—But Thaddy al—already—"

"And, if you want me to still be your friend, you'll come over here so we can get it over with."

Jahoel inhales sharply, nodding quickly, he still wants to be friends, he doesn't want to lose Saba, he has very few people he can rely on, and Saba was just as far up there as Thaddy was. He steps forward, into the guard's grasp, and lets him guide him down into the position he wants him to be in. Thaddy does it in private, but not Saba, Saba will take you down over his knee wherever he is, it doesn't matter to him who sees it. Because of his burning from Thaddy, it only takes a few swats to break him down, but Saba doesn't stop until he thinks he's gotten the lesson across.

Then he's clingy, he wants to be held, he wants to be comforted, and his best of friends rights him around and curls him in his arms, leaning back against the corner behind him. Sabaoth rubs his fingers through the younger's curls, scratching at his head like he knows the youth likes, and Jahoel burrows into the side of his neck desperately, clinging to him tightly, and squeaks something out between his cries.

"Yes, little one, we're still friends." He scratches at his head lightly, looking for that right spot, he knows its there somewhere. "We're always going to be friends." There it is.

Jahoel's breathing evens out, his cries coming to a silence, and he rubs his nose against the guard's neck. A soft purr starts up, his fingers kneading into his chest lightly, like a content kitten.

"Did you really just put him to sleep?"

"Shut up, Os, you'll wake him up."

…

He makes his way up the stairs to the Warden's quarters slowly, rubbing at his eyes lightly, it wasn't fair, Saba had played him. He slinks into the Warden's room and shuffles across the threshold, crawling up onto the bed, he crawls up between two legs and collapses over top of the belly, it rumbles with a soft chuckle and fingers brush through his curls.

"Hey, you, I was wondering when you'd show up."

The young _'reformed'_ thief mumbles softly, rubbing his cheek against the Warden's belly, and closes his eyes. "Been a long day."

Thaddeus chuckles softly, scratching at his head, returning to the page he'd been reading in his book. "Has it been?"

"Saba made me fall asleep."

"Did he?" He finds that one magic spot. "Am I making you fall asleep?"

Jahoel hums sleepily, nodding slightly, nuzzling closer. "Mhmm."

"Good, good, sweet dreams."


	42. Tus's Big Brother (Puriel & Titus)

He looks up from the journal he's writing in at the soft knock on his door. "Come in." The door opens slowly, as though the person on the other side is struggling, and he sits up from his hunched over position at his desk.

A familiar face appears there. "Puri, I need your help."

He scoots his chair back at witnessing him standing there, clutching his shoulder, in clear discomfort. "Oh, Tus, did it lock up again?"

The younger Power bites his lip and nods, grimacing in pain, and the medic stands quickly, crossing out from behind his desk to assist him. He curls a gentle hand around his arms and guides him forward, kicking his door closed behind him, guiding him forward to sit on the edge of his bed. "I'll make it all better, little guy."

"Puri, it hurts."

"I know it does, I'll fix it up good as new, sit here, that's it."

Titus sits on the edge of his bed, curling slightly in pain, and he presses his palm to his left cheek for a moment before turning to gather what he knows he needs. He pours a bit of water into an empty bowl and sets a stack of cloth bandage wraps to soak, lights a small flame under it, to warm the water. He gathers a small vial and a syringe, turning back to the younger Power, he sets them on his bedside table.

"Okay, we have to get some range back so we can take off your shirt." He curls his left hand over his shoulder and the fingers of his right hand under his upper arm. "Ready?"

The younger angel grits his teeth, curling the fingers of his other hand in his older brothers blankets. "Ready."

"Okay, just slow, gentle movements." He starts by slowly lifting his arm up, straightening it out at the shoulder, Titus bites his lip and squeezes the blanket tighter. "Easy does it." He rotates the shoulder joint slowly, enough that he can feel the pressure but not so much that it increases the pain, and slowly it gives, allowing for the range of motion he needs. "Okay, start slipping out of your tunic." Titus nods, slowly pulling his tunic up with his good arm and free hand, he ducks down to slip it over his head, and his older brother takes it from him, slipping it off his bad shoulder and tossing it to lay on his desk beside them.

He watches his older brother reach for the syringe and vial and inhales sharply. Puriel smiles slightly, sticking the needle through the top of the vial, and taps the side of the syringe lightly. "I know you don't like them, but I'll be quick, it's a muscle relaxer, it'll help everything feel better again."

"Puri, I don't know…"

"Here," he holds a hand out to him. "Hold my hand." Titus bites his lip, but he reaches out anyway, grabbing onto his older brother's hand, Puriel curls his fingers around his and squeezes gently. "Now, squeeze." He does as he's told, and clenches his eyes shut so he doesn't see when it happens, he feels it though, a slight pinch, and then there's relief. "Good job, Tus, very good. You did great."

"It's done?" He peeks up at him. "You did it?"

"All done, now I'm just going to wrap it up in some damp warm bandages."

"Thanks, Puri."

His older brother smiles down at him, rubbing his cheek with a finger. "Always, baby brother."

…

He wakes with a start, chest heaving for a breath, sweat dropping down his forehead.

It wasn't real. It was all just a dream. A no good, very bad, horrifying dream.

Sitting up, he feels about himself, he's all in one piece, his hands aren't coming away warm with blood, everything has long since healed, he's whole, nothings broken. He sets his hands down in his lap, and looks down, when they press to something wet. Frowning he moves slightly, pressing his fingers into it, and then he sighs miserably, of course it would be one of those nights. So, he just sits there, in his soiled pants, over his wet sheets, and buries his face in his hands.

"Bad dream?" He peers up over his fingers, meeting those familiar eyes, they never shine with amusement at his predicament, not that any of the others do, but these ones always make things better. He nods slightly. "Did you have an accident?" He nods again.

A kind smile is offered to him, a comforting one, and he holds out a hand. "Come on, baby boy, lets go get you cleaned up."

Smiling slightly, he climbs out of his bed, reaching out to take the outstretched hand. Long warm fingers curl around his, and he guides him from his room, across the hall, to his own room. He walks with him over to his wardrobe, where he pulls out a clean tunic and a clean pair of trousers, a clean pair of undergarments. They're all a bit big on him, but there's nothing more comforting then wearing big brother's clothes, and big brother knows that. "Here, you are, little guy, you get changed and climb in bed, I'm going to go strip your bed while you change, I'll be right back."

"Puri…" He tugs on his brother's hand softly, and he smiles, the fingers of his free hand curling around his left cheek. "I'll be back before you finish changing, I promise." Nodding tentatively, Tus lets go of his hand, watching him turn out of the room. Sighing softly, he turns to the clothes set out for him, and begins stripping from his soiled clothes and into his older brother's clean clothes. He falls still, back facing the door, and reaches up to run his fingers over the defined raised scars wrapped around his neck.

"Hey, it's okay," fingers curl over his shoulders, squeezing lightly. "It's in the past, stay with me here, now, we're together. You and me."

"Puri, I was there again."

"I know, baby brother." Puriel gently turns him around, curling the younger Power up in his arms, pulling him in close. "I know. But it was just a dream. Just a bad dream. You're home, you're safe, I've got you with me, right here. Nis is down the hall. Abe is next door. We're all right here."

Titus nuzzles closer, clutching at his older brother's tunic tightly. "Can I sleep with you, Puri?"

"Of course, you can, baby brother."

…

"Well, look at this, look at what I caught." Titus grunts softly as his back hits the mattress, staring up at his looming older brother, as he draws closer and closer, crawling up over his legs until he's settled over top of him. It's been some time since he last found himself at his older brother's questionable mercy. "I caught an elusive Tus, it's a rare species, only one in existence." He leans up, positioning himself just right. "It makes the most beautiful of sounds." And buries his face into the younger Power's neck.

Titus shrieks brightly, his hands flying up to his brothers chest, fingers curling in his tunic tightly. "Nohohohohshhshshshshshhssss!"

"Just listen to it, isn't it wonderful?"

"Aahahahahahaha! Puhuhuhuurihhihihihi! Stohohhohhohohop!"

"Stop?" He presses a light kiss to one of the rune scars. "I'm just getting started."


	43. Consequences Of Escape Attempts (Thaddeus & Rizoel)

He's been laying here for what feels like an eternity, he can see his tunic folded up nicely on the table by his feet, strapped and immobile on this table, it looks like it would be cool to the touch, but it's actually quite warm. The Prison is warm, it's the middle of Winter, the furnaces and fireplaces are running full go to keep it comfortable, it was only because of the environment and what happened here that had led him to his escape attempt. He'd gotten close too, he'd made it to the Axis, managing to stay under the guards radars, and then, then someone saw him and screamed, the robes were a dead give away to his status at the present moment, and with the scream came the attention, and he was caught up by the guards and dragged back here, kicking and screaming.

The Warden had just come back, full time anyway, and he wanted no part with him. He heard the rumors, he knew what had happened to those who caught his attention, he saw the freed prisoners in their scars and limp forms, he didn't want the same end, it was anyone's natural reaction to attempt an escape from this place. He hadn't seen the legendary man when he was brought back here, he had been expecting to see him, possibly at the door, leering down at him, following as he was dragged back to this room of tortures.

Instruments littered the walls, hanging from hooks, and he eyed them warily, wondering which one would be used on him. They were all sharp, coming to a point, tainted crimson with rusty dried blood. His mind was whirling with the possibilities that might befall him now, he had managed to keep under the radar in his starting month stay into his undetermined sentence, and then word had reached his ears of _his_ return.

He'd planned. And, he'd bolted. He almost got away too, if that one lone soul hadn't screamed, he would be safe and hidden now, probably down on Earth, where it was so vast, that the search parties would merely give up.

His eyes swivel around the dim room, lit by the warm glow of the blazing fire just a pace away from him in the fireplace, nearly a dozen candles or so flickering around him, the room was dim, but he could see without strain.

His heart beat picks up when he makes out the clomping of thick boots drawing towards him from outside the closed door, just barely at first, the fire crackles and pops rather loudly, but as whoever it is draws closer, they become more pronounced, and he holds his breath anxiously, this was it. This was when he became another statistic on this place's rap sheet, when one of those cruel instruments was pulled off the wall and dug into him, when he would be marred, forever scarred for his lapse in judgement.

The door handle jiggles as it turns, and he bites his lip, his breathing growing shallow, as though to be as silent as he could be. Maybe if he was quiet enough, they would go away, think the room was empty, and leave it be. But the lock clicked as the door handle turned completely, and the metal door creaked lightly as it was pushed open, the soul on the other end steps in, and he stares. His eyes wide in muted horror as he finally lays his hand on the man who had wrought so much anguish on so many locked in this place, his eyes swiveled to his hands, to see if they were truly stained red from the blood of his victims. They looked like normal, slightly tan hands. Clean, a few rings on the fingers, a bracelet curled around the left wrist, but they weren't red. They were just normal hands.

The only sound that fills the room is the cracking and popping of the fire, the creaking of the door as it's pushed closed, the click as the latch falls into the keeper, and the scribbling of a pen over dry parchment. But, he pays him no mind, standing there, just beyond the door, scribbling away on a piece of parchment, a file clasped in the fingers of his right hand, it's a thick file, it must be his, reports and the such, documentation of his crimes and sentences, reports of his mannerisms and behavior within these enclosed walls.

He takes this as his moment to survey the man that haunted so many other angels dreams, he looked normal enough, he has a dark beard, long hair pulled back in a bun, something is stuck in the bun, a feather, slim and sleek, he can see the pale blue eyes as they skim over the parchment in his hands, the one he's busy writing over. He doesn't look like a monster, a beast that tears into its victims until there's nothing left, he looks like an ordinary angel. With his hair pulled back, in the dim glowing light, he can see scars wrapping around his temple, little holes, perfectly rounded circles, and it makes him think of the Mindbreaker. He's seen numerous others with those same types of scars, they all saw the Healer once a day, usually in the morning, he was healing what the Mindbreaker had broken in their minds.

' _Had she done the same thing to him?'_ He wonders silently. _'I can't think of any other way he could have gotten them. No one was ever created with them from the start. Not that he knows of.'_ He stares at them as the other continues writing, turning the page over, his pale blue eyes skim over the print at the top, and the scratching of the pen begins anew. _'What if she broke him? Everyone knew of what happened in this place, the pain and horror, they all knew about it, but there was a few who told of a time before that, when he had been kinder, nicer even, where the torture hadn't been painful. No one ever believed those rumors, writing them off as chatter, those who spoke them were confused in the head. Another victim of the Mindbreaker. But he doesn't look like the monster he's made out to be. He looks normal. His pale blue eyes, from what he can of them, aren't filled with loathing or dangerous intent, from what he can see of them, they appear to be as warm as the heat emanating from the fireplace on his other side.'_

"You know what I hate most about these escape attempts?" He flips the page over to the next one, he doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound like a monster, he sounds exasperated, and his tone is warm. It's not as cold as ice, it doesn't send shivers down his spine at the mere sound of it, like they all said it would, it's warm, kind even. "It's the paperwork. How many times can someone ask about the same incident with different phrasing?" He glances up at him, and their eyes meet, he stares as the man smiles slightly and looks back down to the page in his hand. "Enough to fill four pages, that's how much, it's ridiculous. I hate paperwork. It's so boring. I'd rather do anything else, _anything_ , over paperwork."

He snorts softly, though it's more so because his lungs have decided they need more air, precious beloved oxygen, then out of amusement. Though, maybe a little from amusement too.

Those pale blue eyes flit back up to them, concern clouds them, so he knew the reasoning behind his snort too, dark eyebrows scrunched up slightly, the scratching of the pen comes to a halt. "Are you breathing?" His hands lower slightly, as he straightens a bit more, he just grows taller in his opinion. "You need to breath. I mean, I guess you don't have to if you don't want to, but I'd recommend it."

He exhales sharply, inhaling again equally again, and the file and paper work lowers completely as he steps forward. "Hey, it's okay, you're going to be okay."

He shakes his head frantically, and the man's eyebrows meet, leaning forward against the side of the table he's strapped to. "You're not?" He sets the file and parchment down at his side, he feels it rub lightly against his bare skin. "Why aren't you going to be okay?"

He looks away from him, from the Warden, he knows it's him, there's no one else who would have to complete the paperwork required when someone tries to escape, and his eyes swivel around the room, over the instruments on the walls.

"Ahh, I see," he looks back over to the Warden again, his eyes are skimming over the walls, clear distaste shading them slightly. "This room could do with a bit of a remodel. We _have_ to get rid of those things. They send the wrong sort of message then what I want to come across." He looks back down at him and smiles softly. "There's a few things that are being changed around here, but I'll put that remodel on the top of that list, it needs to be done immediately." His eyes flit back up to them again, and he frowns slightly, he's sure the Warden is secretly pulling his leg, he's now searching for the one that he'll use against him. "I'm not going to touch you with any of those things, they're despicable, _I_ don't want to touch them."

"Y—You're not?"

He smiles back down at him. "Oh, so you can talk, Rizoel. I was getting worried." He shakes his head, reaching back for the feather sticking in his bun. "No, I'll be using this." He twists it between his fingers as he holds it out for him to see. "It's all I need to get this lesson across."

"Y—You know m—my name?"

Rizoel stares at him as he nods. "I do. I know all your names. I have a _great_ memory. One of my best features. You know my name, right?"

He nods slightly. "T—Thaddeus."

"That's right, but you can call me _'Thaddy'_. My names a bit of a mouthful. It doesn't necessarily roll off the tongue, not like _'Thaddy'_ does."

"Th—Thaddy?"

"Yep, call me _'Thaddy'_ or _'Thadd'_ , my full name's a bit too formal for my taste."

"P—Please don't hurt me, T—Thaddy."

"Hurt you?" He raises an eyebrow. "You can't hurt someone with a feather."

"Y—You could poke me in the eye with it."

"Point," he chuckles lightly, it's a rumbly sound, amused, possibly a bit fond. "I'm not going to poke you in the eye with it, you cheeky little thing."

"Y—You're not?"

"No," he shakes his head. "I can think of a few other places to poke with my feather other then your eye."

"W—Where?"

"Okay," the Warden nods lightly, taking up the file and parchment he had been working on, slides the page into the file, and leaves him for a moment. Rizoel watches him walk down the side of the table, setting the file and pen down next to his folded tunic before he turns and returns to his side. "I can see you need me more. I can finish the paperwork later." He smiles down at him playfully. "You're here for espionage, you're not a very good spy, if you get caught so easily."

"I—I would have gotten away!"

"You were spotted as soon as you stepped foot on the Axis."

"S—She was just really observant."

"Sure," he nods, rolling his eyes fondly. "I'll let you have it, because I'm nice." He looms over him, holding his feather up for him to see. "Now, let me start your punishment for trying to escape my Prison."

He watches him closely as he leans over, up over his right armpit, and he turns his head as much as is allowed in his confinement, trying to see what's going to happen. "I'm going to write my name on this little armpit, so that way everyone knows who it belongs to." He presses the quill of the feather into the bare armpit hollow, and he inhales sharply at the feeling, biting back a pile of giggles as he starts to circle the quill around. "We have to stir the ink a bit."

Rizoel shrieks when he writes out the first letter, scratching a capital _'T'_ over his bare armpit, and the Warden chuckles above him, drawing another. "Let's double it, to make sure it sinks in."

"Eehehehehehehehehehe! Thhahahahahahahaddy!"

"H." He shrieks again, tugging at his arm desperately, when he writes it out again. "I'm not even half way there and you're already having trouble."

"Stohhohohhohohop!"

"Did you stop when the guards told you to?" He only gets laughter as his answer, so he wiggles the quill in again, the boy shrieks, throwing his head back. "Answer the question mister."

"Nohhohohohohoho! NO!"

"Then, I'm not stopping because you told me to, either." He wiggles the quill in again and the boy shrieks brightly, shaking his head from side to side, tugging on his trapped arm again. "Not that I'd have to listen to you anyway. I'm Warden, I don't have to listen to my prisoners. I'm also older, I don't have to listen to a youngling like you." He reaches back, sticking the feather back into his bun, and reaches back down again, fluttering his fingers over the exposed armpit. Rizoel shrieks brightly, letting loose a bright, sharp _'EEP!'_ before falling into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Thaddeus smiles down at him, taking in the sweetness that was his laughter, it was palpable, like a fledgling's. He pokes him in the cheek lightly. "Did you know that you have dimples?" The younger angel shrieks with laughter, trying to edge away from his fingers, shaking his head frantically. "You didn't?" He pokes him in the cheek again. "They're right here. It's actually quite adorable. I don't think I've seen them on anyone but a fledgling before."

"Aahahahahaahahahaha! Hahahahahhahahahaha! Geehehehehhehehet ohhhohohohohout! Stoohohohhohhohop!"

"I don't think so." The Warden shakes his head, leaning over him, reaching out with his free hand, he flutters the finger of his left hand over his other armpit. The young angel screams loudly, cackling loudly, jumping from side to side in an attempt to break free or evade his fingers. He accomplishes neither. "We're just warming up, you and me, you tried to escape from my custody, you're really going to get it now." He pulls back, and the young angel heaves for a breath, giggling breathlessly. "Okay, we're warmed up now, let's get on to the real torture."

"Nohoho!"

"Let's have a snack." He steps down to hover over his belly, Rizoel watches him closely, giggles breathlessly even still.

"Whahahhahaat?"

"Let's have some berries."

His eyes widen in quick realization, and despite his predicament, the knowledge of his whereabouts slips away as his giggling picks up and he shakes his head frantically from side to side, trying to suck in his belly as much as his consistent giggling will allow. "No! NO! Not that! Not those! Get away! No!"

Thaddeus chuckles softly, looming over his belly dangerously. "Oh, I can tell this is going to be fun." He crosses his arms behind his back and leans over him, taking a deep breath in his slow descent, Rizoel shrieks when he touches down, shrieking with laughter as he rests there, waiting for it to come, it's going to be awful.

Then he blows.

Rizoel's eyes widen wide and he squeals with laughter. "EEIIEEEIEEIHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NOHOHOHO! EEIEIIEAIAAAIHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT AGAIN! NOHHOHOHOEHEHEIEIEIEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"And, again."

"EEIEIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EIEIEIEHEAIHEHEEEEEHEHEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAAHAHAHAHHAHAA! STOP! NO! EEEIEIEHEHEHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THADDY! THAHAHHAHAHAADDY! EIEIEIEHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHA!"

"Just a bit more."

"AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO! NO MORE! EEEIEIEIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NONONO! EEIEIEIEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EEIEIEIEIEEEIEIEEHEHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHHAHAHAHAA THAHAHAHAHAHAADDYYY! PLEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHHAHAHAASE! EEIEIEIEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIEIHEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

He pulls away, laughing softly at the panting hysterical mess he's made of the boy under him, standing back up, he uncurls his hands from behind him and leans forward against the table. Rizoel pants, giggling hysterically, starring up at the Warden with a big smile. "You have dimples, and it's very cute." He giggles harder and had his face not been so red, it would have burned red with a blush.

The Warden pushes away from the table, running the fingers of his right hand down the edge as he walks down towards his feet, he wiggles them, giggling all the while, watching as the older angel slowly undoes the straps from around them, then he comes around the other side, up above him. Instead of undoing those straps, he pushes his arms down and leans over him. "I need to make sure this lesson sticks the first time. I am not doing this paperwork more than once."

Rizoel's eyes widen again, as the older angel takes a deep breath, and his head rushes down to his right armpit.

He squeals, catching his footing, when he blows viciously into the sensitive skin, and pushes himself up with his feet. "EEIEIEIEIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA! NOT THERE! NOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHA! THAHAHAHAHAHADDYYY! EEIEIEIAHAAHAHAHHAHAAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP! EIEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHA!" He curls his fingers into the bottom of the Wardens tunic and tugs desperately, it makes him laugh softly, and he squeals again at the feeling of it. "Are you holding onto me?" The young angel shrieks when he looks down, his beard brushing over his bare armpit. "You are, that's sweet." "EIEIEIEIAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! NOHHHOHOHO! NO MORE! EEIEIEHEHEHAHAHAHAAHHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAA! EEIIEAIHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!"

"Are you ever going to try and escape again?"

"EIEIEIAAHAHAAIAHAHAHHAHAHA NOHOHHOHO! NOOOOO!"

"Good boy." He finally pulls away, leaving him a panting, giggling mess sagging against the table, spent after all that. He feels the straps holding his wrists be undone, and he slowly curls his arms down, around himself, giggling breathlessly, as fingers curl under his arms and heft him up into the sitting position. He leans back limply against the older angel, until he turns him around, reaching up to caress his cheeks, rubbing away the tear tracks. "Why'd you make a runner on me?"

"I—I wahahas s—scared."

"I see," he steps closer, between his legs, and reaches down to curl them around his waist. The young angel hiccups softly and tilts his head. "Come on, squirt, make like a baby koala and latch on." Scooting forward, he curls his legs around the Warden's waist, curling his arms up around his neck, he feels himself being lifted from the table, hanging from the older angel's front. He rests his chin on his shoulder, his beard brushes against the side of his cheek lightly, swaying as he walks from the metal table to the wooden one, gathering up his file, pen, and Rizoel's tunic.

Rizoe watches where they're going from over his shoulder, expecting to be taken back to his cell when he steps out of the room, but they turn, taking the first step up, and he lifts his head up. "Where are we going?"

"Upstairs." The Warden states, curling his arm down under him, hoisting him up as he begins to slip, he adjusts his grip for his betterment in his hold. "You're going to stay with me for the next couple of nights."

He shrugs, yawning widely, and lays his head down on the Warden's shoulder. "Okay." He closes his eyes. "Thanks for not hurting me."

"I'm never going to hurt you, Rizoel." He feels warm lips press against his cheek lightly. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Never."

Thaddeus pushes his door open, steps into his room, and turns, closing it behind him. His first stop is to his desk, where he sets the file with the half finished paperwork and Rizoel's tunic, and then he makes his second stop to his bed, leaning over, her guides the younger angel down, laying him down. Rizoel curls up over top of the blankets, goose pimples form over his skin. "Do you want your shirt?"

"No, I don't like sleeping in it."

He shivers lightly, and Thaddeus smiles down at him, petting his hair back. "You can climb under the blankets if you're cold, they're nice and thick blankets, warm for this time of winter." He nods lightly, scrambling under the Warden's blankets, huddling underneath them, peeking out at the older angel from the hood he creates with them.

The Warden smiles again. "I'm going to stoke the fire a bit to get it back up, but then I'll join you."

Rizoel nods, yawning again, he's completely spent now, and warm and comfortable. The man runs his finger down the bridge of his nose before turning to do the task he assigned himself, and he watches, with half lidded eyes, as he bend into the fireplace slightly and pokes at the glowing orange logs, he blows into his hand a small flame and drops it into the embers, it ignites instantly, roaring up into a cracking fire.

His eyes flutter open again when the bed moves, a warm body sliding in next to him, and he hesitantly huddles closer to the new warmth. A light chuckle reverberates through the silent room. "You can come closer if you want, I promise I don't bite."

Nodding, the young boy sidles up close to the older angel, curling around his side, into the warmth he offers, and an arm curls down around him, pulling him closer, fingers rub at his lower back soothingly. "Go back to sleep, little Rizo, you're safe here. I'll protect you."


	44. Dealing With Separation Anxiety (Akriel, Thaddeus, & Jahoel)

He knew there was a problem when he returned, his bed was empty, and the door to the washroom was cracked open. He sets his bag on his desk, his whip beside it, and cautiously crosses over to the cracked door, curling his fingers around the edge, he pushes it open, peering inside silently. A frown crosses his features at the sight that awaits him, huddled over the toilet, chest heaving from the force of his retches, Jahoel wheezes softly, curled up as much as he can be in his precarious position.

Frowning softly, he steps away from the entry way, stepping into the washroom with him. "Oel?" The young angel looks up over his shoulder, his pale face brightens as he spots him, and he turns, stumbling to his feet quickly. He catches him as he throws himself forward, wrapping him in his arms as he clutches to the front of his tunic, curling his left hand around the back of his braided head. "Are you sick?"

He shakes his head. "You were gone for so long. I thought you weren't coming back. Where'd you go? Why'd you leave?"

"You've been sick since I left?"

Jahoel nods, pressing closer to him, rubbing his cheek over the Warden's upper belly. "I missed you so much! Please don't leave again!"

He sighs sadly, nodding to himself, and bends slightly to sweep him up off his feet, cradling an arm under his knees. Jahoel presses closer, curling his arm around his neck, pressing his damp cheek into the side of his neck. They'd have to get this addressed, with him helping them build the Prison system down in Hell, he was going to be away quite intermittently, and he didn't want the little angel to be getting sick every time he left. "You know where I went, I told you before I left," he lowers the little thief into their bed, tucking the blankets up under his chin, he sits beside him on the edge. "Did you get sick like this when I left the last time?"

The little angel cuddles down into his pillow, under his blankets, and nods slightly. Fingers scratch lightly at his head, between his braids, and he sighs contentedly, nuzzling down against his pillow. "You should have told me."

"I didn' want you to be upset."

"I wouldn't have been upset," he pokes him in the nose lightly before returning to his scratching. "And, you know it. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. I care about you, my little thief, I don't like seeing you this way."

""m sorry."

"It's okay," Thaddeus sighs deeply. "You get some sleep. We'll talk about it more in the morning."

"St'y?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

…

"What can I do for you two?" The mental specialist leans back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, looking over at the two of them kindly, smiling slightly, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. "You wanted to see me?"

"We did," Thaddeus smiles at him, smoothing down the boy's curls next to him. "We have a bit of a problem."

"What sort of problem?" He tilts his head slightly.

The Warden turns to look down at the little thief next to him, Jahoel looks away, to something in the distance, it had been the elder who had wanted him to come, he was perfectly fine dealing with it on his own.

Sighing, he nods, turning back to the Virtue. "Jahoel gets sick."

"Everyone gets sick, what makes this worrisome?"

"He gets sick every time I leave him for an extended period of time. From the day I leave to the day I get back."

"Aahhh, I see," Akriel nods, turning to look at the boy next to the Warden. "That is worrisome. What else happens Jahoel?"

The younger angel shakes his head stiffly, crossing his arms tightly, refusing to look at either of them. "Nothin'."

"Oel, please," the angel next to him turns to him, guiding his head back around with a finger under his chin, his eyes are worried and pleading. "I just want to help you."

Sighing deeply, the little angel pulls his head free and looks down to his lap, tapping his fingers against his left upper arm firmly. "I get scared that he won't come back."

"Scared enough that it makes you sick?"

He nods. "That something might happen, and I'll be all alone again. I don't like it when he leaves for a long time."

"Mhmm, Thadd what's the longest you've been away for?"

"Maybe four days."

Akriel nods again. "What happens when he's gone?"

"I already told you!"

"What _else_ happens when he's gone?"

Jahoel scrunches his shoulders up and sinks lower in his seat, looking down to the Virtue's boots instead of up to meet his eyes, that's okay, not many of his patients that come to see him for his specialty look him in the eyes at first. "I get really worried and scared. Like something is going to happen to me because he's not there to protect me, or that something will happen to him and he'll never come back for me."

"Do you have trouble sleeping while he's away?"

He nods.

Akriel hums, nodding slightly, and turns back to the boys self-appointed guardian. "I'd say it's an anxiety disorder. The unusual sense of impending doom, insomnia, the fact that he gets physically sick. More precisely, I'd say it was a certain degree of separation anxiety. I am assuming he becomes just a bit excessively clingy a few days before you leave, or he starts acting out in a manner that causes you to delay your departure?"

Thaddeus nods in confirmation. "How would you say?"

"Easy," he nods towards the boy. "This all occurs on the day you leave until the day you come back. Think of it as one long anxiety attack while you're away." He shakes his foot slightly. "What was it like for him before you came along?"

Thaddeus sighs softly. "I'm not all too sure, he's not very talkative about it." He leans back in his chair, turning to watch the boy for a moment. "He snuck to Solitary once, before they were moved upstairs, he said he saw his old guardian down there."

"Okay, what did he say about her?"

He rubs at his chin lightly, scratching at his beard. "He said she left him in the Garden. He begged me not to get bored with him and leave him like she did. Apparently, from what I could make out in the midst of his cries, she left him in the Garden and didn't come back."

"I see, and that, that right there, is the start of it all." He raises a finger in indication. "She left him, while he was still a fledgling, impressionable, thinking the world of her, she told him to stay in that spot, promised to come back for him," he looks to the young angel for clarification, it's barely noticeable, but he jerks his head slightly in the form of a nod. "And, never did. How long did you wait there, Jahoel?"

The attention of the two of them is directed to the boy, and he shrinks in on himself at the weight of it. "Two and a half days. Joshua found me after that."

"And, you were on your own ever since then, weren't you?" He jerks his chin to the Warden. "Until Thaddy came along."

"I have friends!"

"Yes, but none that you know you can return to at the end of every day, is there?"

Jahoel huffs indignantly and shakes his head stiffly. "No."

"Right, and then Thaddy offered you the same sort of shelter that your old guardian did, didn't he?"

He nods stiffly.

Nodding again, Akriel turns back to the Warden. "Like I said, it's an anxiety disorder, more on the point, separation anxiety."

The Warden nods seriously, looking over to the grumpy boy next to him, reaching up to rub his curls comfortingly. Jahoel huffs and looks away from them, but he leans into his touch, and they both smile at him for it. "How do we treat it?"

"Well, first, create a panic pack, for when you're away, he has things he can turn to for him to distract himself or remind him of you. Something personal, one of your tunic, something that smells like you. Give him something to keep his hands and mind busy, games, academic games like puzzles or crosswords or the such, art supplies, something to keep him stimulated and from thinking on your being gone."

"Okay, we can do that once we get back."

"Next, create routines for separations and when you reunite. Predictable and regular routines offer comfort to children with separation anxiety. You still have a room set up at the Pavilion, right?" Thaddeus nods in confirmation to his inquiry, and Akriel nods in turn, continuing on with his instruction. "Start with a day, keep him at home for a day, in this case the Prison, he needs to stay put for a day, while you go out and tend to errands or meet up with a friend, but leave him on his own. Set up a time you'll come back, say, nine o'clock, so that way he has that expectation, stay away for the day and return at the time you say you will, so he knows that when you leave, you're going to come back, and he can expect your return at the specified timeframe. Then, step it up, stay away for a night. The two, then three, so on and the like until you hit the maximum number of days you'll be away when you leave to return to your assignment again. He'll come expect you to be back, let's say it's four days, he'll expect you to be back in four days, at nine o'clock."

"Okay, we can do that, do you have pen and paper?"

The Virtue nods, reaching over for the requested items on his desk, and passes them over, the Warden takes notes on his instructions.

"Okay, you need to stay positive and supportive at all times, it'll become frustrating at times, but don't let it affect how you treat him or behave. It's not something he can help. Never scold him for it, when he acts out before you go, or tell him he's acting like a small child, don't minimize his feelings. Instead, validate them and offer support; _'I know it makes you sad when I have to go. I feel sad too. Let's both make something that that you can keep while I'm away',_ be supportive. It's not just hard on you, it's hard on him too, it's something that has been ingrained in him from an early age, he can't help it, when you leave, automatically, he doesn't expect you to come back. We're going to change that expectation."

"Okay, validate, make something that he can keep, don't scold. Got it."

Akriel nods. "That should be it, if it escalates or he continues to get sick, let me know, I'll prescribe him something for it. But let's not jump to that end so early on."

"I will, thank you, Ak, it really means a lot to me that you'd help."

"Of course, Thadd, keep my up to date, if you need anything else just let me know."

…

"Okay, you have your pack?"

Jahoel nods, sitting huddled up on their bed, hugging his pack to his chest.

"You have the blanket we made?"

He nods again, tugging the blanket around his shoulders tighter around him.

"Good, good," the Warden leans over the bed, caressing his cheek lightly, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. "I've told Saba to keep an eye on you, if you start getting sick I want you to let him know, and he'll come get me, understand."

"I understand, Thaddy."

"Good boy," he leans in closer, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm going to be back on Thursday at six o'clock in the evening."

"You'll be back on Thursday at six o'clock in the evening."

"Good angel, you be good alright, and, like I said, if you start getting sick again you tell Saba and he'll come get me."

"Okay, Thaddy."


	45. Even Though I'm Leaving (The Powers)

"Where's Nis?"

It's not their brother gaining the fatal wound, him dying in their arms in the middle of a decimated battle field, watching the light leave his eyes, that breaks them. It's seeing the look on his two charges faces when they come back without him, the utter horror and agony that shines in their eyes when they tell them, softly, voices filled with so much pain.

How does one tell a child that the one raising them was never going to come home again, not in the way he always promised to, that they would never be there to catch them again when they fell.

Paul goes pale in the face, his smile slowly falling, stopping his searching for his guardian, his hands coming together, clutching them to his chest tightly, like a fledgling who had just been told the worst possible news and they're unsure as to what to do now.

It's young Sasha who breaks the silence that falls over them, his hands pressed to his lips, as he breaths a sob, gut wrenching, it forces him to bend over, fold in on himself.

None of them move, standing there, still soaked from the rain, in their armor, watching as the youngest of his two charges turns and bolts, his older brother following after him, right at his heel, they don't chase after them, they don't need to, they all know where they're going. The Pavilion feels empty now, it's duller, a piece is missing, a big piece that no one had imagined losing so soon.

But they know someone has to go, someone has to be with them, they shouldn't be alone right now. They all exchange looks, silently urging the other to go, and it's the medic who steps forward, making his way down the hall slowly, to the room at the end, his Captain's. He comes to stand in the doorway, looking in on them, his heart breaking even more for them both. The others shuffle in behind him; they've chosen him as the mouth piece, but they're all in this together. His charges are their charges now.

Sasha has curled himself up on his bed, curled around his cloak, they can see the red and gold from where they stand, clutching it tightly, pressing it to his face as he sobs his heart out.

Paul was throwing things around, anger overtaking him in his sudden grief, snarling and yelling. He turns at the motion in the doorway, throwing a book at the medic, they all duck under it, it slams into the wall behind them and falls to lay there on the floor. "Why didn't you save him!"

"I—"

"You're the medic! You should have saved him! It's your _only_ job!"

"Paul, I tried, I tried as hard as I could—"

"You didn't try hard enough! You could have saved him if you wanted to! You should have tried harder!" His voice cracks as he screams at him, winding his arm back to throw another book, but he's shaken by a sudden sob, the book falls from his hand and he collapses to his knees, curling his arms around himself with the force of his sobs. _"You should have saved him!"_

None of them know what to do, they don't move, watching as both young boys break as the news finally starts to sink in. No longer will they feel his warm hugs, his arms curling around them from behind, pulling them back against his chest, his chin resting on their heads. No longer will they feel the tingly sensation of him rubbing his beard into their bellies or their necks. There to catch them when training was too rough, and they needed someone to hold them up. He was gone, he was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

They were alone again.

…

They had given their brother to the Rit Zien when they came to collect him, his passing had been much more gentle with them there, and they had taken him from them, taking him to the Healer's domain, where Azrael awaited his arrival, to prepare and guide for his final burial. They stood by and watched as they readied him, dressing him in his ceremonial robes, doing his hair up nice. They watched as the funeral pyres were constructed. Then, they retreated back to their home, to the Pavilion, their hearts heavy with the knowledge that they were leaving him behind.

They had been against it, but the two of them wanted to see him before they set him on the pyre, and they couldn't bring themselves to deny this request, he was their everything, he was their world, the one that had given them a home when they needed it, and now he was gone.

They stood by as the two young boys stepped forward cautiously, towards his still form, shivering, holding themselves up just barely, they were on the verge of breaking at the sight of him like that.

He was so still, his eyes were closed, one could think he was merely sleeping if they hadn't known any better. His hands were folded together, the hilt of his sword under his fingers, he didn't look like he was dead.

They stand at his bedside for a long time, staring down at him, and then their knees give out and they fall. No one catches them. They stand guard at the door, making sure no one disturbs their final goodbye, the pyres are being prepared, it's the evening before his send off. They kneel at his side, their heads pressed against his upper arm, their tears darkening his sleeve.

They're allowed their moment, no one has the heart to tell them to hurry or shoo them away, the healers steer clear of them, the Archangel watches them from afar, his heart breaking for them. They're both still so young.

The two of them ask if they can stay with him, and they nod, making them up beds next to him, standing guard as they sleep with their guardian for the last night.

They walk in the procession, behind his form as the other Power's carry the board he's resting on to the waiting pyre, holding each other's hands, clutching at each other, as the Powers slide him on the pyre and step aside, coming up to surround them from everyone else. Michael says a few words, none of them hear what he says, watching as he lights the pyre with the torch, closing ranks as the tears begin to fall. Sasha turns to hide in his brother's side, and Paul stares ahead, watching the licking flames consume the pyre completely, taking everything with it. Them in their ceremonial robes, and their two little charges wearing one of his tunics, it still smelled like him, it brought some semblance of comfort.

His two little charges break after that day, broken little messes, lost without the guiding force that was Nisroc. They didn't talk, they didn't move, they retreated to his room after, curling up in his bed together, and there they stayed.

Nisroc would never leave them willingly, he would never break their hearts like this on purpose, and they knew that they knew this too, but it did nothing to stop the pain that dug into their little worn forms. There had been so much loss, so much anguish, that those two little guys had lived through. They had come back from it all, bounced right back, with some help, but on a trigger, and this, this was the final blow of the wind that blew their precarious houses of cards over. They were broken. There was nothing left for them. Nisroc had meant the world to them. He was their everything.

They had quickly moved passed the first stage of grief; denial. Where they spent most of their days curled up in his bed, under his blankets, their heads buried in his pillows, swallowed by the big bed, both sharing the spot that would forever smell like him, surrounded by the blankets and pillows that smelled like him. They weren't alone for the first couple of days. Thaddeus and the guards joined them, the Warden curled around the youngest of the two, holding him close as the boy clutched to him tightly. The two guards, Sabaoth and Osmadiel curled around his older charge, hiding him from the world, as though they would forcibly hide him from everything that would cause him any more pain.

They'd lay in his bed, their backs facing each other, one clutching onto his cloak and the other onto his night shirt, staring blankly at the walls, sometimes their eyes would flit down to the door, as though he would come walking through, smiling and apologizing for playing such a cruel prank on them, he'd climb up between them, pulling them close to him, his fingers wiggling into their sides until the sadness was washed away and they were giggling messes pushing against him but trapped within his arms, promising that everything was okay.

All of them tried more then once to get them to eat, they'd bring them anything, fruits and vegetables and sweets, anything and everything they both liked. But they'd turn them away, stare not breaking, waiting for their passed guardian to return to their sides once more. They said they wanted some of Nisroc's stew, and they gave up after that, after a long week, because they couldn't give them what they truly wanted.

Silence had fallen over the Pavilion in the wake of his loss, and then his precession into the afterlife, they all walked like lost souls without any sort of direction, the only thing that brought them together was gone, what kept them from being swallowed by their grief was the two young boys curled up in his bed, the two boys who had been through much too much and lived to tell the tale, and they worried that this was it, this was the thing they would not come back from.

Abraxos sighed, setting the plate of cookies down on the table, collapsing in the seat next to Puriel.

"No luck?"

"None." He shakes his head, burying his head in his hands. "I wish he were here."

"We all do, little brother." Puriel pets his hair lightly. "We all wish he was here."

"His loss has touched many." Hasmal looked up from Haniel, petting the older Power's hair softly, his laughter had left with their older brother. "But I fear, none so much as them."

"He would know how to fix this."

Titus rubs at his forehead lightly. "If he were here, none of this would need fixing."

"How long has it been since they last ate?" Puriel sighs deeply, looking up from Abraxos's worn form, and they all exchange a look. "Right. None of us know. They're going to waste away."

"Then, what do you suggest we do, we're all ears."

"There's nothing we can do but keep trying."

They'd already been through anger, and then they flew through bargaining, they were flying through the stages of grief.

Depression hit the hardest, the hardest of them all, and it brought them all to new lows.

Paul and Sasha slept most of the day away, curled up together in his bed, surrounded by things that smelled like him. They hadn't bathed in nearly a week and a half, refusing to get out of the bed that needed stripped and changed, that needed washing in its own right. They barely ate, they didn't talk, they barely, drank, all they did was sleep.

When they weren't sleeping, they were staring at the walls, the doorway, the walls again.

It was Puriel and Thaddeus that stepped up to the plate, that came to them, the others not knowing what to do, and seeing as the arrangements that had been made in the event that this came to pass had declared who went to who, it wasn't really their place to step in for anything.

They sat next to them, on either side of the bed, running their fingers through the young boy's hair, whispering down to them softly, anything that came to mind, just to stimulate their minds into working. They begged the two of them to open up, to come to them, to grieve with them, they didn't have to do this alone, to let them help the two of them through this. To know there was no forgetting him, but to learn how to live on, live on for him.

The medic and the Warden were the ones that came in to them crying, and they'd sit next to them, running their fingers through their hair, offering them comfort by mere presence alone, knowing that words would offer no semblance of comfort.

When the tears came, and come they did, they were hot and infinite, unending torrents. Puriel and Thaddeus knew they were for them too, somewhere deep down in themselves, for the children becoming adults, for pain entering their worlds without the decency to knock first.

The numbness of his loss had passed, and the pain would hit them out of nowhere, harsh and unforgiving, doubling her over and taking control, racking their little frames with sobs so heavy that they were like mini earthquakes. _'Where are you?'_ They would cry together in their silent ways. _'Where have you gone?'_ Of course, there was never any answer, not really, just silence and sobs. _'Why have you left us?'_

As the medic, he knew that crying was a healthy release, the best way to express emotions one could not find a way to put into words that they did not know how to speak, but for his dear little youngling, it was a habit now. Thaddeus knew just as well, he had learned to be a medic in his own right, if only to take care of his prisoners himself, if it were something minor to be cared for. There were countless days, as they stayed behind to care for their two young charges, that they sat beside them as they just cried because that was all their little bodies could think to do.

The blue feeling washed in like an unwanted wave, knocking their sandcastles flat, washing them back into the surf. The laid and stared at the walls, more tears flowing, sobs silent against the air around them. They let them fall, not raising a hand to wipe them away, letting them flow freely down their cheeks, clutching to his cloak and tunics, pressing them against their faces, breathing in his scent. The tears splashed down on the pillow in rain-like patterns and soaked in leaving dark splotches on the dark amber pillowcases.

They became concerned when it seemed as though they were not going to pull though this stage and called on the only one they would trust to help in this situation, and Akriel had come to meet them in the silence as they fell into one of their naps, in the doorway to the late Captain's room. He offered them soft condolences, and they thanked him in kind, gesturing to the two sleeping younglings.

He looked them over as they slept and shook his head sadly, they were wasting away, holding on by a mere thread. They hadn't eaten in a number of weeks, and they drank very rarely, it was only the fact that they were angels that kept them from dying from malnutrition. There was nothing he could do, this was beyond him, beyond his Archangel, they were fading away in their grief, the only one that could stand a hope of helping them now had been laid to rest.

' _Go seek out Father, see if you can get in, the Throne Room has been locked up since the day of the burning of the pyre. Only He can help them now.'_

The Virtue spared them one last glance, shaking his head sadly, and silently made his leave.

They loath to leave them, but Nisroc would turn in his grave if they let his two precious charges waste away into fading so young, so they went, to seek out Father, to try and gain entry into the sealed Throne Room.

It had been a shock of their lives when they'd been granted entrance.

When they returned, they didn't return empty handed, too focused on helping their two charges to focus on what they had brought back with them. It hadn't been his time, that wasn't how his life's story was supposed to end, so the three Brothers had come together and returned him to how he had been, so he could continue writing to his story to his true ending.

He took one look at what had become of his two charges and rushed forward, moving quite fluidly for a dead man, kneeling at one side and then moving to the other. He was kneeling before the older of the two when dull eyes blinked open, squinting up at him, he blinked a few times, his mind was slow moving.

"'is…..? 'ere?"

"I'm here, Pauly," he strokes his fingers over his pale cheek. "I'm sorry I left. I didn't want to."

"ack?"

The Captain nods. "I'm back, Pauly, I'm not leaving again."

"ug, N'ssy?"

"Of course, Pauly, come here, little one." He helps the young boy sit up, he's much too weak from malnutrition to do much of anything on his own, Paul collapses on him, curling his arms around him as tightly as he can manage, and he stands slightly to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the boy over into his lap. Hot tears wet his tunic as he sobs weakly into his chest, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, and he hugs him close, careful not to harm him. "It's okay, Pauly, everything's going to be okay."

"N's?" He looks over his shoulder as his littlest boy wakes from his slumber, slowly pushing himself up, blinking away the slumber from his eyes. "'ts 'ou?"

"It's me, baby Sasha, I'm here."

"is!" He lunges forward, as best as he can, and falls against his side. He makes it work though, turning slightly, pulling him around, his lap is big enough for the both of them. "M'ss'd y'o!" He cries softly into his neck, and he sighs softly, he knew this would come when he came back, he has a feeling there's going to be quite a few tearful ones to tend to. But these ones first. These were the most important. The closest to his heart. "I missed you too, my fledgling." He presses a kiss to his cheek tenderly. "I'm here, it's okay."

They both press close, holding onto him desperately, as though if they let go, he'd disappear like some cruel dream.

The Captain presses a kiss to both of their foreheads. "Do you two want to go take a bath?" The both nod against him. He kisses their heads again. "Then, lets go take a bath."

He nods to the other two in the doorway, and they nod in return, Puriel and Thaddeus step forward, taking their respective charge up into their arms, they're too weak to walk on their own at the moment. Both Paul and Sasha whine softly, reaching out for him, and he reaches back, taking hold of one of the hands they hold out to him, giving them a firm squeeze so they know he's there, he's real.

They make their way to the washroom in the back, he notices two of his shirts sitting on one of the heating vents, they'd been trying to get them out of that bed for a while it appeared. The two set the boys down at the edge of the heated lake, and he kneels holding their hands as they slowly strip them of their soiled clothes.

With their aid, they make it into the water, all five of them. He sits between them, holding onto their hands, as his brother and grown charge settle beside him, the two boys laying between their legs. He talks down to them, keeping them both away, as the others bath them gently, first their bodies and then their hair. They finish quick enough, both of them scrubbed clean, and carry them out of the water. They dress them first and change themselves, then carry them back down the hall, he lifts both hands he holds, pressing his lips to the backs. "I'm going to make you two some stew and we'll get those bellies full before we get you two back in bed."

They both nod weakly, Sasha rests his head against Thaddeus's shoulder, yawning widely. Paul does much of the same, pressing his cheek in the crook of Puriel's shoulder, watching through half lidded eyes as they make their way into the open space of the lounge and kitchenette. They sit the boys in the lounge, with their two back up guardians, Puriel and Thaddeus are happy to stay with them, in the right place, where they can see Nisroc preparing his famous stew in the kitchen.

The boys watch him through half lidded eyes.

He makes his stew with good time, filling two bowls, and makes his way back to them. The part from each other so he can sit himself between them, passing the bowls to the two he had assigned as their guardians in the wake of his untimely demise, Puriel and Thaddeus take them, helping spoon feed them their stew, the first thing they'd eaten in nearly two and a half weeks.

They climb into his lap sluggishly, and he curls his arms around them, pulling them close, encouraging them to eat bite after bite, until their bowls are emptied.

The others can have what's left, he made a rather large pot, let it be a surprise.

"Okay, boys, let's get you back in bed."

Sasha rubs his cheek over his arm. "Comin' 'oo?"

"Of course, I'm coming, baby Sasha. I'm never leaving you again. Not for a long while to come."

The youngest of his two charges smiles softly, letting his eyes slide closed, Paul smiles over at him, licking his lips softly.

They wait for the Captain to climb in first, situating himself in the middle, and then raises his arms, for them to set the boys down at his sides. Paul and Sasha curl in close, clutching at his tunic, cuddling in as close as they can get. He kisses their heads softly, rubbing their shoulders lightly. "You two go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you wake again."

He's not sure how it happens, but he dozes off himself, holding his two boys close, and when he wakes (they don't) he's surrounded by bodies of slumbering figures. Thaddeus has curled up at their feet, like an overgrown cat, resting soundly. Osmadiel and Sabaoth are resting at his side, leaning up against the side the of the bed, he moves his hand slightly, careful not to disturb Paul, and rubs their heads fondly. Haniel and Hasmal are curled in a similar way on the other side, and he does the same with his left hand, careful not to wake Sasha. Puriel's sleeping leaned back in a chair, his feet kicked up on the desk. Titus is next to him, his head resting against the medic's shoulder, snoring softly. Abraxos and Abraxas are curled up together at the foot of his bed, on Thaddeus's other side.

Movement in the doorway catches his attention, he looks up, meeting his archangel's eyes.

Michael smiles at him. "They all missed you rather dearly."

"I missed them too."

The Archangel raises his chin slightly. "I'm happy to have you back, Nis."

"I'm happy to be back."


	46. Working With Scars (Puriel & Titus)

"Puri, we need you to stage an intervention."

The medic looks up from his journal with a raised eyebrow. "Stage an _intervention_?" He looks between the two Powers in his room. "For whom?"

"The one you know best."

Nisroc elbows the one next to him. "What Abe means to say is _'Tus'_. We need you to stage an intervention for Tus."

"For Tus?" He closes his journal and leans back. "What's he done?"

"An _'intervention',_ more like an adjustment, we want you to fix his attitude."

"His attitude?"

Sighing, the oldest Power pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head softly. "Tus needs some help. He's been a right grump for the last week, and well, while we'd gladly handle it, we think you'd be better suited for the job."

"Better suited for the job?"

Abraxos nods, crossing his arms. "He's been your baby brother longer then he's been ours, you know him better then we do, you'd be best at it."

Smiling to himself, it was a rare occurrence that he got to do _that_ to his precious baby brother these days, who was he to turn away such an opportunity. He rubs his hands together and nods, pushing himself up from his chair, and stretches himself out. "I'd be happy to help."

It didn't take him long to capture his prey.

"What did you say you wanted?"

"Just lay down," the medic pushes the younger Power back against his pillow, his scarred torso completely bare, situating him in the position he needs him to be in for max opportunity. "I want to check the scar tissue."

"Puri, it's been scarred since I've been a Power, I think it's fine."

"Ah, you say that," he holds up a finger. "But then you stiffen up and can't move."

"It's only my shoulder that does that, and it's only occasionally that it happens, I'm fine Puri, you just worry too much."

Puriel smiles, reaching out, poking him in the nose softly. "Can I help it," and scratches a finger under his chin gently, Titus snorts softly, shaking his head frantically. "You're my beloved baby brother." He reaches up, pulling his arms up over his head by the wrists, leaning up over him, looming even, and Titus leans back into the pillow to keep the eye contact stable. "Let me check up here." He leans in close, and the younger Power scrunches up slightly involuntarily, he tilts to the side, trying to lean away from him as he slowly approaches. "Wait! Wait, what are you doing!"

"I'm checking the scar tissue, I told you, this is where it's in its largest quantity, it's only right that I start here." His slight beard rubs against the undercurve of his cheek as he comes in closer. "Wouldn't it be something terrible if your neck stiffened up and you could move your head?"

Titus's eyes widen in realization and he squirms in his older brothers hold. "Wait! Wait, you tricked me! Let me go!"

"Tricked you?" His breath skims over the skin of his neck. "I would never. I'm of the upmost seriousness." He leans in close, his lips rubbing as light as a feather over his neck. "Okay, maybe I _did_ trick you." And he dives him, curling into his neck, perhaps it's a bit cruel, the scars make the skin a bit more sensitive.

The younger Power shrieks lightly, his entire body scrunching up to the left, as much as it can under the weight of his older brother. "Waitwaitwait! Nohohohohoho! Puhhuhuhuhuhuriihihihihi! Whyhyhyhyhyy!"

"I'll tell you the truth, because I'm nothing but honest." He presses a playful kiss to one of the raised rune scars and his younger brother shrieks. "I was asked to, and me being me, how could I pass up that opportunity." He blows a light raspberry against the next rune scar and Titus squeaks, shrieking brightly with laughter. "I haven't gotten to play with you since, well, I think it was the day you became an official Power. It's been much too long." He leans back in, nibbling over the next scar, and Titus hisses, squeaking like a fledgling.

He pulls back, smiling down at his younger brother, he stares up at him, a slight smile ghosting his features, giggling softly like a giggly little fledgling. He releases his grip on the younger Power's wrists and Titus immediately curls up, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to cover his bare torso, Puriel gestures to him as a whole. "And, look at you, all perfectly ready for me to really get my game on." With great skill, he manages to find a break in the guard he's created himself with his arms, and digs his fingers in, Titus shrieks, bucking, throwing his hands down to try and catch his, he doesn't succeed, and he manages to climb higher, digging his fingers into his ribcage.

"Puhuhuhuhuhuhuhrriiihihihii! Nohohohohhoho! Ahahahahahahaha!" The younger Power throws his head back, squirming from side to side, as fingers worm into his ribs, rubbing over the skin between each bone, and curling down around to get the back. Puriel knew how to break him with little exertion, he could happily sit there all night and torture him without strain, he was a very skilled older brother. "Gehehehehehet ohohohohoofff! Hahahahahahaha! Plehehehehehhahahahahase!"

"Aww, you said _'please'_ ," he moves the hand curled around his left side and claws into his belly, he howls, cackling with mad laughter as his older brother smiles down at him. "You have such good manners."

"AAhahahahahhaa! Nohhohohot thehehehehheerrehehehehe! Puuhhhuhuhuhuhuhrihhihihii!"

"Not here?" He moves his other hand down, digging the fingers into his lower belly, chuckling softly at the shrill shriek it draws forth. "Not your belly?" Titus shakes his head frantically, shrieking with laughter, trying to push his brother's hands away. "How about here, then?"

His eyes widen when the fingers move, and he feels them curl into his thighs, and squeals brightly when they dig in mercilessly. He kicks his feet, arching his back, his toes fan out as his brother reaches underneath to the underside and digs his fingers in there, wiggling his fingers in expertly and pinching with practiced knowledge. "NO! NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHAOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEEAAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEEEHERE! PUUHUHUHUHUUAHAHAHAHAHAHAAUUHUUURI! NOHOHOHOOHOHOAOOAHAHHAHAHA!"

"They said you were being a grump," he curls his fingers inwards. "This doesn't seem like a grump to me."

"AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAHAHAHA! PUHUHUHUURRIIIIII! NO! STOHHOOHOHOP! AHAHAHAHAHHAHHAEAEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHHHEEAAHAHAHAHAHASE!"

He pauses for a moment, and the younger Power pants for a breath, giggling madly. "Were you being a grump, Tussy?" He smiles as he shakes his head, giggling up at him, like a fledgling down, and it feels him with a warmth he hadn't felt in some time. He digs his fingers in slightly, and the younger Power shrieks softly, arching under him. "You weren't?" He shakes his head again. "So, they were lying to me?" Titus bites his lip, smiling like a little angel, and nods softly.

Puriel smiles softly. "I think _you're_ lying." And he digs back in.

…

When the days get too bad, he gets too stiff, he retreats to his quiet place, that quiet place also just happens to be his older brother's bedroom. Puriel runs colder then most, and he has his sea snake, Shelby, thus his room is always on the warm side. He shimmies stiffly out of his tunic and climbs up onto the older Power's bed, stretching himself out as he lays his head against the pillows, the scent of his older brother help's sooth his inner tension and the warmth of the room slowly soothes his aches and pains.

Puriel doesn't always know he comes in here, he tries for the days he's working with his training squadron so he doesn't just happen upon him there, he doesn't want to worry him too much, just the right amount.

He sighs as the door opens though, training had ended early today due to a string of rather strong thunderstorms, they could be harsh trainers, but they weren't going to force a group of young angels to stand out in the middle of a lightning storm holding metal weapons.

The bed dips as someone sits on the edge, fingers rub over his head lightly. "Not feeling well, Tus?"

Shaking his head, he groans softly, everything aches, a dull throb, it's all too stiff and too tense, phantom pains that would always haunt him now, especially when the weather turns as dramatically as it had.

Fingers scratch down behind his ear lightly. "Do you want me to give you a massage?"

He nods stiffly, that sounds nice, that would be great. His hands are like magic, he knows what he's doing, to offer optimum comfort, he can make his tense and stiff muscles like putty under his fingers, and it's a feeling he welcomes whole heartedly.

"Okay, baby brother, let me get a few things, get the atmosphere nice and right, and I'll give you a nice massage."

Titus grunts softly, his head pressed deep into his brother's pillow, and the bed dips again as the older angel lifts himself up. He hears him move about the room, his wardrobe opens, he's changing, it had started downpouring while they were bringing everything inside. The glowing from the sea snake's tank dims slightly, the running water falls silent, until all he hears is the sound of the rain beating against the window, intermittent clashes of thunder mixed within. He hears the scratch of a match on the igniting paper, and a silent curse when it dies out, he's just going to use his fingers to light the candles instead, like he always does when the matches don't work. He hears the chatter of warm glowing embers being spread in a pan, the middle pieces set over them, and rags set over top of them, the lid closing it with a soft chime, to warm some damp rags. He hears him clear the bedside table, moving the lamp over to the other corner, he ignites it, it casts a warm glow around them, over that of the strong light in the tank. He sets the pan of warming rags on the other end of the table, closer, within reach when he wants them. He sets a few candles around them, lighting them, Lavender and Ylang Ylang candles, the aroma is calming to his frayed nerves and the soft glow of the flame doesn't make his head hurt when he opens his eyes. He watches his brother move for a moment, reaching into one of the cupboards over his workspace for a bottle of oil, he turns it to read the label and nods in approval, closing the cupboard as he turns. Their eyes meet and he smiles at him gently.

_Eucalyptus oil._ That's his oil, specifically, it's the one he uses when he comes to him for these sorts of things. It's an anti-inflammatory, it helps ease the stiff, cramped muscles. It also helps with his particular skin problems, with the ability to prevent and heal scar tissue. Its soothing, his brother knows how to use it well, he has a small bottle he uses when he makes his concoctions for him and the ones under their custody, but there's a larger bottle, that he always keeps full, that's just for him.

"Okay, we're nice and ready, let me climb up here." He nods, grunting softly as his older brother climbs up over him, straddling his waist, he rests lightly on his butt, leaving his top open for the taking. He hears him pull the stopper on the bottle of oil, shaking a bit of it into his left palm, he leans over and sets the bottle and lid on the side table. "You just relax, let me take care of the rest."

Titus nods lightly, closing his eyes as his brother's fingers curl to grasp the side of his neck, pressing gently on the muscles and tendons, kneading with his thumb and forefingers. Puriel always runs a bit on the colder side, but his hands are always warm, always, he sighs in content as he rubs his fingers in soothing circles over one of the raised scars around his neck. The fingers of his other hand curl around the other side of his neck, his thumbs rubbing soothingly up the sides of the base of his neck. Just the right pressure, he can feel his muscles relaxing under his soothing touch, he's never too rough, always just right.

He groans softly in comfort when he presses his fingers curl around his shoulders, thumbs digging into the muscles on either side of his neck, the fingers squeeze into his shoulders and the thumbs press in to the muscle, the motion slow and steady. He moves down his shoulders, squeezing and stretching them, pulling and pushing at the sore skin and muscle.

The older Power reaches for the bottle again, pouring a bit more into his palm, and rubs his hands together, pressing the heels of his hands alongside his spine, he kneads his way down, pressing into the muscles as he goes. He pauses midway, turning his fingers outwards, curling them down around his sides, he leans up, applying a bit more pressure there. Titus groans again, lifting slightly from the bed, his fingers curling into his brother's pillow.

Puriel looks up at him. "Too much?"

"No-ooooh, it's just fi—I—ine."

"Okay, tell me if I get too rough."

He nods, settling back against the pillow again, his fingers relaxing once more.

His hands rub back up his back, thumbs moving in slow soothing circles, firm, just the right amount of pressure, and he sighs deeply, feeling the tension roll away under his fingers. He works his way down to his lower back, rubbing the pads of his fingers in deeply, stretching the skin out, kneading into it gently. His fingers travel up his back again, back up to his shoulder. He digs his fingers into his shoulder, and he groans again, arching into the touch, he knows his older brother smiles at the action, looking down at him as he arcs into his hands.

"Does that feel good, baby brother?"

He groans softly, nodding sluggishly against his older brother's pillow, exhaling deeply as he rotates his shoulder, fingers curled lightly around his upper arm, and fingers curled firmly around his shoulder, he rotates his shoulder in small circles.

"Good, that's what I want to hear, just let my fingers and the beat of rain wash away the tension."

Titus nods again, sinking into the mattress, into the pillow.

He feels his brother lean over, and he opens his eyes just a bit, half lidded, watching as his older brother lifts the lid off the pan he set on the bedside table, steam billows upwards, those cloth strips are nice and warm, he picks one off the top, and the younger Power sighs in comfort when he lays the strip of fabric down over his lower back. He reaches for another, and lays it just above the first, lining them one after another up his back until he reaches his shoulders, then he drapes them over his shoulders. He leans forward, curling his fingers down around to the sides of his neck, rubbing deep soothing circles over the runes, working his way around slowly, to the base of his neck.

Puriel reaches over for another strip and curls it down around his neck, then he reaches up, rubbing at the back of his head softly. He leans over him, tilting over slightly, and smiles. "Tus, you still with me?"

He gets no response, the younger Power's eyes are closed, his mouth slightly ajar. He's sound asleep, completely ignorant to the world around him, and this is different, he's let his guard down, trusting in him to keep him safe while he does. Tus usually sleeps on a hair trigger, he'd wake at the slightest noise, but he's in a deep sleep, as he leans over and covers the pot again, it rattles slightly, and he merely snores softly and nuzzles languidly into his pillow. He's _sound_ asleep.

Gingerly, he climbs off the younger Power the younger, reclining next to him on his king-sized bed.

Gently, he rubs at his head, smiling at the content sigh it elicits. "Sleep well, baby Power."

Eventually he ends up laying over top of him, crawling over as slow as a tortoise, and Puriel chuckles softly, letting the rags soak into his skin for a good couple minutes, waiting for the heat to fade before he removes them, soften up the skin, sooth the muscles even still. And, he watches him sleep, stroking a finger down the bridge of his nose. "That's it. You just relax."


	47. I Would Have Said Yes (Thaddeus & Barbados)

"Sir, we have a new intake."

The Warden hums, waving them in as he fills out a parchment for the new prisoner they'd taken in, and they could wait a few extra moment for him to finish.

"Hey, Thaddy."

That catches him, he looks up from the parchment he's working on with wide eyes, meeting those of the prisoner he'd just _released_ not only _two_ days ago. Barbados smiles, waving a few fingers at him, and he waves a few back in return, pushing the parchment away, he leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, he raises an eyebrow. "Hello, _Barbados."_

"How's your day going?"

"Oh, just fine, thank you so much for asking. Do enlighten me," he tilts his head lightly, tapping his upper arm with the fingers of his right hand. " _What_ are you doing back _here?_ It's only been _two_ days since you were released."

"What can I say," the boy shrugs lightly. "I'm a creature of habit."

"What did you do?"

He shrugs again, this time a bit sheepishly, perhaps a tiny bit cautiously. "That's not important."

"It is if I say it is."

"It's really not."

Nodding, the Warden turns to his guard. "Marmaroth, what's his crime this time?"

"He stole documents from the Commander and gave them to the enemy. Luckily they were important."

" _Barbados!"_

The younger angel shrugs nervously, twiddling his fingers. "I told you it wasn't important."

"Mhm, why'd you do it?"

"Mmm." He shrugs again.

The Warden wags a finger at him. "No sir, shrugging doesn't cut it this time, what you did was extremely foolish, I want an actual answer."

"I….um…." he tucks one of braids back. "I wanted to be with you again."

"You wanted to be with me?"

He nods shyly, looking down to his feet, shuffling his boot against the floor lightly. "Yea."

"What about your guardian, hmm?"

"I..um…." he glances up at him. "I don't have one."

"I see, so you thought what, you _misbehave_ , get sent back, and what?" He crosses his arms once more. " _I'd_ take you in?"

Barbados cringes, as though he was having second thoughts about his plan, and he deflates slightly as he nods.

Thaddeus watches him for a long moment, tapping his arm lightly, and then he heaves a sigh. "What's your sentence?"

"One hundred and fifty days."

He nods, leaning forward in his chair, pointing a stern finger at him. "Alright, if you want me to take you in, I will, I'll talk to Michael about your sentence," he wags a finger when the younger angel smiles. "That _doesn't_ mean you're off free. No, if I'm going to take you in, you're going to deal with _my_ punishment. You go upstairs and stand in the corner."

Barbados's eyes widen. "What!"

The Warden points up, towards his quarters. "You want me to be your guardian, I'll be your guardian, I'll deal with this the same way I'd deal with any of my charges. Go, mister."

"But I—"

He stands from his chair and the boy jumps back. _"Go."_ Both Warden and guard watch as the young offender turns tail and bolts from the office, they hear his boots echoing up the stairs and the door to the Warden's quarters crash open.

Thaddeus shakes his head, rubbing at his beard lightly, and steps out from behind his desk. He'll finish the paperwork later, he has to wait for documents from the Infirmary anyway, might as well do something productive.

He pats the guard on the arm as he passes him. "Mar, tell Saba he's in charge while I'm away."

"Yes, sir."

"And, make sure Jahoel stays down here with him, I have something private to attend to when I get back."

"Of course, sir."

Michael doesn't take much convincing when he tells him the reasoning behind the poor decision to lift his sentence, so long as he keeps the boy in line, Thaddeus assures him that he will.

Barbados is waiting for him in the corner, just as he had told him to be, and he sighs, closing the door behind him, he walks to the vanity, rubbing at his cheek lightly, and takes hold of the hair brush. He situates himself on the edge of his bed and sighs again. "Come here, Barbados."

The boy turns just as he's told to, eyes widening at the hairbrush he holds in his hand, and points to it slightly. "Are you…?"

"I am."

"I don't think—"

"That's right, you didn't think, you don't have to be my prisoner to be under my care, if you wanted me to take you in, you could have just asked. I would have said _'yes'_." He tugs him around to stand before him. "Bare yourself."

"Do I really—"

"Do as you're told."

He nods quickly, reaching up to undo the belt around his waist, tugging his trousers down slightly. He looks up to the Warden for more direction, and the older angel tugs him around by the arm, pulling down over his knee. He tenses, preparing himself for it, when he feels the hard end of the brush press against his bare cheek, he curls his fingers around the Warden's ankle, closing his eyes tightly when the brush pulls back.

The boy yells, kicking out, when he throws the brush back around sharply, a sharp, firm _thwap_ echoes around the room. He scrambles, kicking and pushing against the older angel's lap, anything to get away from it, as it comes down again and again, burning his bottom harshly.

"Ow! Ow Thadd! Thaddy, stop!"

"Hold still, Barbados, or I'll get the belt."

"No! NO! I don—OWIE—want that!"

"Then, hold still."

He nods, it's a struggle, as the brush starts rotating between his left and right cheek, but he holds himself steady. It does nothing to silence his howls though, his wails echo just as loudly as the smacks do, and they soon turn to gut wrenching sobs, as his kicking starts up again. His bottom burns like nothing else, it's on fire, it burns, he wants it to stop.

"Ooooowwwiieeee! I'm s—s—sorry!"

"Are you _ever_ going to do that again?"

"N—N—Nooo!"

He gets on last, hard, wallop, and he jumps, howling in pain. But the hairbrush disappears after that, it's set aside, and the Warden helps him to his feet. He sniffles, sobbing into his hands as large warm hands help pull up his trousers, unlooping the belt from around his waist, he sets that aside as well, and he's tugged around, sobbing form and all, down into the Warden's lap.

Barbados curls around the Warden, sobbing into his shoulder, and fingers scratch at his head, between his braids, soothingly, he whispers in his ear softly.

"I'm s—sorry, Thaddy! I—I'm sorry!"

"I know, Ados, I know you are, hush now, it's alright." He curls an arm under the little angel's knees, and stands from the edge of the bed, turns, and climbs up on his knees. He sets the little angel down first, and lays next to him. Barbados crawls over, collapsing over top of him, and he pulls him around, laying over his chest and resumes scratching at his head. "There, there, we're done. You're forgiven. Everything's okay."

"K—K—Keepin' m—me?"

"Yes, I'm keeping you, you'll stay here with me." He hums, closing his eyes, pulling the younger angel closer. "Now, let's take a nap."

"D—Don't you have paperwork to do?"

Thaddeus huffs softly, wiggling his fingers into his left side, and the boy shrieks softly, wiggling against him. "Watch it mister, or I'll have to punish you again."


	48. Look After You (Nisroc, Paul, & Sasha)

They had starved themselves to deaths door, one more week like they had been going, and they would have followed him to his untimely afterlife. Part him, a sad part, wonders if that had been their intent, he knew they relied on him, but he didn't think it had been that much, it was concerning. The Healer had come to look them over while they napped, the day after his return, and frowned the entire time. Their muscles had degraded, eating themselves in the wake of their starvation, and needed to be built back up. They were put on a strict diet, one that they struggled with at first, but after the first week, it was becoming a bit easier for them.

It broke his heart watching them struggle to walk.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, knees spread slightly, arms outstretched for the young angel shakily taking step after step towards him, he was holding most of his weight, but Puriel was holding him up just in case.

"Come on, Pauly, just a bit more, you can do it." He beckoned him on with his fingers, flexing them lightly, smiling at him encouragingly, speaking praise after praise, watching the weak third year slowly make his way across the threshold of the room with small steps, shaky, sweat beading around his forehead. "That's it bambino, you're almost there, come to papa, you're doing great. Just a few more steps." His oldest charge had called him _'papa'_ three nights previous, after a frightful nightmare, as he clung to his desperately, as though he might disappear if he let go, and that's who he'd been since then, he was no longer just _'Nis'_ , now he was _'papa'_ , and it made his heart sore to hear him say it.

Paul reaches out for him, with the hand not clutching at the medic's shoulder, his fingers flexing demandingly. "Papa, papa."

"I am right here, come to papa, just a bit more and you're there, I've got a big hug waiting for you. Papa's going to give you a big hug. You just have a few more steps. Come on, bambino, you can do it."

"Papa," he finally comes close enough that he can curl his fingers around his middle, Puriel lets the boy go, but hovers behind him just on the off chance he collapsed. He helps guide the young angel around, settling him on his thigh, and curls his arms around him for that great big hug he promised. Paul curls around him, worn out from his excursion, mumbling into his neck incoherently. "Good boy, very good, you did brilliantly, bambino."

The young angel rubs his cheek against his shoulder. "Papa."

"That's right, papa's got you, you did great." He rubs their cheeks together and turns slightly, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "Here's your great big hug. You earned it. Papa is so proud of you."

"Love you, papa." Paul sighs sleepily, rubbing his cheek against his, smiling at the feeling of his beard scratching against the smooth skin of his cheek. "Love you."

"Papa loves you too, bambino, very much." He kisses his head again. "Don't fall asleep yet, baby boy, it's supper time after this." He helps the little angel around, laying him next to him, and turns to the youngest, reaching over, he pokes around his belly, smiling when he giggles softly. "Your turn, little lamb."

"No, papa, comfy." He continues poking his belly, and he giggles harder, reaching for his finger weakly. "Papa! Tickles!"

"If you don't get up and do your walking, papa's going to keep poking this ticklish little belly, until it drives you crazy."

Sasha giggles harder when he pokes down around his side. "Okay, papa, okay! I'll do it! No more tickles!"

"That's my boy."

Thaddeus chuckles as he helps the youngest of their little gang out of the bed, holding him up as they slowly make their way to the doorway, Nisroc resumes his position, knees slightly spread, arms outstretched, waiting patiently for his youngest boy. Sasha holds onto Thaddeus, clutching at his hand, as the Warden helps guide him forward, whispering words of encouragement in his ear as he takes one small step after another. His legs shake slightly, with each wobbly step, and he flexes his fingers encouragingly. "Come on, little lamb, you can do it, come to papa." He stumbles slightly but Thaddeus catches him. "Careful now, easy does it, I'm not going anywhere."

"Papa," the little angel reaches out for him with his free hand, flexing his fingers much like his older brother had, they're both rather clingy at the moment, but he doesn't mind, he wiggles his fingers lightly. "Come here, come to papa, you're almost there, just a few more steps."

"Want you, papa." He lets go of the Warden's hand in favor of using it to reach forward. "Papa. Papa." Thaddeus curls his hands around his waist as he walks forward shakily, keeping him from falling over.

"Slow down, little lamb, papa's not going anywhere, nice slow steps, that's it, nice and easy." Once he's within reach, he curls his fingers around his waist, helping him step forward, drawing him down into his lap. "There you are, see, you made it to papa. You did so good, papa is so proud."

Sasha cuddles closer, smiling in content, curling his fingers in his tunic. "Papa."

"Papa's got you, little lamb, papa's got you all wrapped up."

They both look up as someone opens the door, Puriel smiles at them as he enters, carrying a tray of food, two plates, two bowls, and two glasses. "Supper is served; chicken and potatoes, fruit salad, and large cool glasses of milk."

…

_He's so still. His eyes are closed. He's cold to the touch. Laying there on that board. He looks like he's sleeping, but there's no rise and fall of his chest, it's still in death, no heartbeat, no thrumming of grace. Just silent._

_He watches as the others lift the board up, resting it on their shoulders, Sasha grabs his hand tightly, he looks down at it. The other Powers lead the way, carrying their fallen Captain with them, and they follow after, slowly, between the parted crowd. Flowers are underfoot, thrown in their path, a meaningful send off. The Archangels are standing shoulder to shoulder on the elevated platform above the pyre, the Morningstar sets his hand on the Commander's shoulder, squeezing softly, and Sasha's grip on his hand tightens._

_The Power slide the board they carry over the pyre's platform, sliding it in place, and back up, the come to surround them, hiding them both from the crowd of onlookers, watching as the Commander steps forward. His mouth moves but he can't hear what he's saying, his ears are ringing, as he stares at the still form on the pyre, urging him to get up, sit up, move, wake up, wake up, wake up. Don't leave us. You were supposed to watch us grow up. You aren't supposed to leave yet. But he doesn't move, and the archangel lights the torch, touching it to the pyre, and the flames consume it. He presses his hand over his nose and mouth, the balled sleeve in his fist still smells like him, it brings some semblance of comfort, but only just. Sasha breaths a soft sigh, turning to hide in his side, and he curls his arm around him in solitude, watching the pyre burn with tears gathering in his eyes, he's not going to wake up, he's not coming ba—_ **Paul, Paul wake up. Pauly, wake up bambino, follow papa's voice, come to papa.**

He wakes with a start, his cheeks warm and slick, tears flowing down his cheeks as he heaves a sob so harsh it causes his shoulders to quake. Hands curl around his cheeks, fingers wiping away the tear tracks, and he blinks a few times to clear his vision, staring up into those concerned blue eyes. " _Papa!"_

Throwing himself around, he tumbles over top of the older angel, clutching at his tunic desperately as he sobs into his chest. Arms curl around him, a warm hand curls around the side of his head, pressing him close, he can hear the beating heart, the grace buzzing under his skin, a thumb strokes over his cheek.

"It's okay, bambino, papa's here. Papa's got you. It was just a dream. Just a bad dream."

"Papa! Don't go! Don't leave me! Don't go papa!"

"Ssshh, it's okay, papa's not going anywhere. I've got you. Papa's here and he's not going anywhere."

"Papa, promise!" Paul looks up at him, the hand curled around the side of his head curls over his cheek. "Promise you won't let me!"

"Cross my heart." He leans forward pressing a kiss to his forehead, before guiding him back down into the laying position. "Hush now, bambino, papa's got you. Go back to sleep. You need your rest."


	49. The Night Before The End (Thaddeus & Gadreel)

"Come on, you," the gate to his cell swings open, and they snap their fingers, pointing to the spot next to them. "Your act may get the guards to leave you be, but it won't work on me, mister, up and at'em."

"No, I don't want to."

"Gadreel, you can come wash up on your own free will, or I can carry you there over my shoulder, either way," he rests his hands on his hips. "You're going to bathe."

"No."

"Alright, we're going to do this the hard way." The Warden steps into his cell, reaching out for him, Gadreel grumbles, batting at his hands. "No, no Thaddy! No! Leave me alone!"

"Nope, it's bath time, mister, up you get." He snags the young prisoner by the wrist and tugs him up, bending slightly, he tugs him up over his shoulder. Gadreel protests, banging his fists against his back, it's been one of those weeks, where the mood seems to grow darker and his baby brother is left in a particular mindset. Stubborn and stuck in a constant temper tantrum. It deterred the guards, but he wasn't so weak, he could handle a small temper tantrum. Especially from this particular prisoner. "Now, you stop that." He smacks his rear sharply. "That's more than enough."

"Put me down! Put me _down_! I don't want to! Put me down, Thaddy!"

"Now, you stop that, that's enough, Gadreel." He pauses in the middle of the hallway, smacking his rear once again. "Do you want to lay over my knee?"

"No, Thaddy! No!"

"Then, you better knock it off."

Gadreel nods quickly, the fight leaving him, dangling over his older brothers shoulder like he was, he feels tears well up in his eyes. He made Thaddy mad at him. He didn't mean to. It just….It just got to him. He'd been here for over a year and there was no end in sight. Tears slip down his cheeks as they enter the empty washroom, the others having already finished up and started eating supper, you didn't get supper unless you washed up on bath days.

Thaddeus leans over, setting the young angel down on his feet, he sighs softly at the tears that glisten over his cheeks. "Oh, Gaddy, I know it's been one of those weeks." He caresses his cheeks as he wipes away the tears with his thumbs. The young prisoner sniffles miserably. "I—I—I made you m—mad at m—me."

"Oh, little shadow, I'm not mad at you." He cradles his cheeks and tilts his head back to look him in the eyes. "I understand. It's just been a bad week. I know you don't mean it."

Gadreel sniffles again, rubbing at his nose pitifully. "Y—You're not m—mad at me?"

"No," he shakes his head. "I'm not mad at you, grasshopper."

"P—Promise?"

"I promise. I'm not mad." He pulls him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and smiles down at him when he pulls him back. "You're going to come stay with me for a while, alright?"

The younger angel nods lightly. "Okay, T—Thaddy."

"Good angel, now you get cleaned up, and we'll go have supper."

Gadreel nods lightly, turning away from him, slowly pulling his tunic up over his head, he throws it in the large hamper next to the shelves of clean clothes, he shucks out of his trousers and undergarments, grabs himself a bar of soap and a wash cloth, and wades into the pool of warm water to bathe.

Thaddeus watches him for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest loosely, silently cursing Michael's name for putting the young Sentry through this. It was one mistake, it wasn't even a mistake, the messenger who was supposed to tell him about the Morningstar's betrayal had gotten distracted, Gadreel hadn't had the slightest idea that he wasn't supposed to let the second born Archangel in the Garden. He was being punished for a crime that didn't exist. He turns, to give him some privacy, and busies himself with menial tasks, sorting out the hamper into two piles; one of trousers and the other of tunics.

He hears a splash, and he spies over his shoulder, watching his younger brother rinse his hair out. He grabs him another towel, watching as he walks out of the water, wrapping his towel around his waist, and the Warden turns, meeting him half way, wrapping the other towel around his shoulders, creating a small hood with it, he gently rubs his head dry. "All clean?"

Gadreel nods softly. "All clean."

"Good boy," he guides him around. "Now, go get dressed." The younger angel nods, parting from his side, picking up his tunic first, slipping it over his head, he pulls his trousers on, and returns to his older brothers side. "Very good, let's go get some supper." He nods, curling around the older angel's arm as they walk out of the washroom side by side. Thaddeus guides him around to the stairs with a hand against the small of his back and nods up the stairs when he turns to look at him, the young prisoner takes the first stair up, then the second, and continues on his way until they reach the top.

The Warden's room is warm, the fire crackling softly, a cauldron bubbling over the fire, he'd been in the process of cooking supper when one of his guards had come up to tell him about the stubborn little prisoner refusing to take his bath.

He guides him forward as he pauses in the middle of the room. "You climb in bed and I'll bring your supper over to you, alright grasshopper?"

"Okay, Thaddy." Gadreel nods, stepping forward, climbing up on the Warden's large bed, claiming the right side. He watches his older brother scoop up two large scoops of warm stew into a bowl, pick up a spoon, and turn back towards him. He holds the bowl and spoon out for him. "Here you go."

He smiles. "Thanks, Thaddy."

"Anytime, baby brother."

Scooping up a spoonful, he plops it in his mouth, humming in delight, his big brother is a good cook. It almost tastes like Nis's stew, almost, nothing could top his stew, but Thaddy's was a good second best. His older brother slides in next to him, his own bowl of stew in hand, and sets a plate of fresh baked bread between them. They eat in silence, listening to the crackle of the fire, downing their stew while it's still warm. He finishes first, but his older brother is in a close second place, and turns to look down at him. "Do you want more?"

The younger nods, passing him his bowl, Thaddy nods in turn, standing from his side of the bed, and scoops more stew into their bowls. He passes his back before he slides back in, gesturing to the bread between them, he scoops a spoonful into his mouth. "Have some bread, it'll help fill you up." He nods again, taking a piece of bread, he dips it in the stew broth and takes a bite, humming in pleasure. They eat in companionable silence again, dipping their bread into the stew, eating their meal happily.

Gadreel passes him his bowl when they're both finished, and he takes them and the bread plate, sliding off the bed to deposit them in the washing basin, letting them soak, he'll wash them in the morning. He slides back in next to the young sentry, tugging him close to his side, he turns over onto his side, curling around him, curling him up in his arms. "I know it's rough, grasshopper, I know it is. I'm so sorry."

"I made a mistake, Thaddy."

"I know you did, you couldn't have known, it wasn't your fault."

Gadreel clutches at the front of his tunic. "You won't ever leave me, right Thaddy?"

"Never, baby brother, I'm always going to be here for you." He presses a kiss to his forehead tenderly. "I'll always be here to take care of you."

The younger angel smiles, tucking himself in closer. "Can I spend the day with you tomorrow?"

"I have to meet with Naomi in the morning, she asked to see me, but you can wait for me in my office." He kisses his forehead again. "We can spend the rest of the day together after I get back."

"Thaddy," he looks up at him with wide eyes. "Please don't go, I don't trust her, please don't go see her."

He chuckles softly, scratching at the back of his head lightly. "It'll be fine, baby brother, but if it makes you feel better, I'll take Ion with me, just to be sure."


	50. The Warden's Fledgling (Thaddeus & Sasha)

The screams of the fledgling drew guards from all over the Prison, swords drawn, surrounding the prisoner holding the knife to the terrified fledgling's throat, his little chest heaving with sobs, quivering in terror, reaching out for any of the guards to get him away. He wanted Taddy, Taddy would make everything better, Taddy knew how to make things better, Taddy always protected him.

The prisoner pulls him back, the knife nicking into the skin, and he cries harder, screaming in terror, as a small droplet of blood drips down from the cut.

"Back off, get back, get back or I'll slit his throat!"

Sasha cries harder, flexing his fingers, reaching out for any of the guards to pick him up, but none of them move. They don't know what to do, this is a precarious situation they'd never encountered before, sure, it was normal for the Warden to find himself under attack, but not for his fledgling to be the target. The prisoners liked the fledgling, he'd sit outside their cells and color, keeping them company, his guard escort not far behind, and Chayyliel was not missing, he wasn't far behind his charge now, he was laying in a heap on the floor, a red stain growing over his chest.

"Taddy!" The fledgling screams out desperately, the guards aren't doing anything, but Taddy would, Taddy isn't scared of anything. _"Taddy!"_

Someone comes running around the corner, their boots stomping against the stone flooring, and the guards part in surprise. The Warden isn't inhibited by the knife held to his fledglings neck, these sorts of things required unexpected action, he was expected to pause and plead, just as the guards had been doing, but he does the exact opposite. He rushes forward, his fingers curled tightly, and rams his fist up under the prisoners chin. Something cracks loudly, and the prisoner falls backwards, swept off his feet from the momentum alone, crumbling in a heap on the floor.

Thaddeus sweeps his fledgling up off the floor, curling him in his arms, pressing him down against his shoulder. Sasha curls around him, sobbing uncontrollably, clutching at his tunic with his little tiny fingers. He turns to the guards surrounding them, at his back, and nods sharply to the prisoner unconscious behind him. "Take him to Solitary, get a healer to look over his jaw, it may be broken." He turns slightly, looking at the guard escort that would give his life for the safety of his fledgling. The stain has stopped growing, the concern was still prominent, but not as much as it had been upon first sight. "Take Chayyliel to the Infirmary to get him patched up, he is to stay there the night for precaution, if he tries to get up, and he will, I don't care what you have to do, tie him down for all I care, but he is to remain there for the night for observation."

The guards nod at his orders, two rush forward to collect the prisoner, and two others rush forward to collect the wounded guard, going off in two separate directions.

This was unacceptable, Thaddeus was not pleased, if he hadn't gotten back when he did who knows what would have happened to his fledgling. The guards should have intervened, he understands the unexpectedness of the situation, but they should have acted, he'd talk to Titus about it, if they need extra training, then they would get it.

This event would only come to pass once and that was it.

He coos softly in the fledgling's ear, whispering words of comfort, and rubs soothingly at his back. "Sshhh, sshhh, it's okay, you're okay, Taddy's here, Taddy's got you, sshhh, it's alright." Sasha sucks in a big breath before releasing another sob. "Sshhh, it's okay, everything's okay, hush little one, it's okay."

Unlocking the door to his office, he pushes the door open, cradling the small fledgling in one arm, he walks over to the small counter by the fireplace, reaching into the icebox for a jug of milk, he pours a bit into a small pot and sets it to warm next to the fire, and he readies the sippy cup, twisting the top off with his free hand, humming under his breath comfortingly, rocking him in his arm. The sobs slowly die down, fading into small hiccups, the fledgling rubbing at his eyes with his little fists, and he smiles down at the little guy, poking him on the nose lightly. "There you are, it's okay, Taddy's here, everything's okay." He pours the warm milk into the sippy cup and screws the lid back on, rubbing the spout over the fledglings lips until they open, and his hands come up to curl around the small cup, suckling away at the warm milk silently, sniffling every couple moments. "There you go, you drink your milk, Taddy will take care of everything." Sasha looks up at him with wide eyes, drinking away at his full sippy cup, and he smiles down at him again, brushing his curls back. "Let's get that boo-boo on your neck cleaned up."

He walks around the edge of his desk and sits in his chair, adjusting his grip on the fledgling, he sets him up to sit on the desktop in front of him. Sasha doesn't pause his consumption of his drink as he curls his little bare feet over his knees, as he leans over to reach for the middle left drawer. The Warden pulls out a small bottle, a cotton swab, and a bandage.

"Okay, baby frog," he uncaps the bottle and pours a few drops of the disinfectant onto the cotton swab. "This might sting just a little." Sasha watches him with those big golden eyes as he tilts his head back slightly and reaches up to dab the little cut with the cotton swab. The fledgling whines around his sippy cup at the slight sting and he coos at him again, setting the cotton swab aside for the bandage, and carefully covered the cut with the bandage, rubbing his finger over it to makes sure it's well and stuck on there. "You did so very good, I'm so proud of you, come here, baby frog, come back to Taddy." The fledgling slides off the edge of his desk and plops himself down on his lap, leaning back against his arm, he hums happily as he drinks away at his warm milk. "There you are, see, it's alright."

Sasha pulls his cup away slightly. "Taddy stay now?"

He nods, tugging the fledgling close, curling his hand around his little chubby belly. "Taddy's staying."

The fledgling smiles up at him, pulling the spout of his cup back in his mouth, and he settles back against the Warden's chest, sipping way happily.

Warm milk calms the nerves, and helps you to sleep, naptime was coming up after all.

"Me and you will do naptime together, today."

Sasha looks up at him, pausing in his sipping. "Cuddles, Taddy?"

"Cuddles, baby frog, lots and lots of cuddles."


	51. A Time For Second Chances

"Nis, can I have a word with you?" The Captain looks up from the book he was reading, he should be working on his paperwork, but he wasn't one to bow to such whims if he could avoid it. Titus smiles at him from his place in the doorway to his older brother's office, nodding to him in greeting, Nisroc returns his smile and waves in a gesture of granted entrance, he pushes away from the doorframe and enters, crossing to sit in one of the chairs across from the older Power, at his desk. Nisroc leans forward on his arms, against his desk, waiting for him to speak his piece.

Titus rubs at his shoulder lightly. "I want to take him."

"Pardon?"

"Sorath," Titus meets his gaze, firm on his conviction, and nods to assure them both. "I want to take him."

"He doesn't have the temperament to be a Power, Tus, and I'm not making him anymore exceptions." Nisroc shakes his head lightly. "Not even I could break him of it, or at least, get him to keep it under control."

"No, you misunderstand." The Captain of the guards shakes his head. "I agree, he clearly does not have what it takes to be one of us, I want to make him one of my guards. He would do well as a Prison guard. His skill with a sword is something we should not pass up on, and the Prisons need a guard like him, rough around the edges, not frightened of anything. His attitude could do with some work, I agree, but I think he could do well."

"I don't know, Tus." He looks down to his folded hands. "I just don't know."

"I can handle him, Nis." Titus is quick to assure, crossing his arms about his chest, he nods again in assurance. "I can handle him."

Nisroc stares at him for a moment, as if struggling through an internal battle, and heaves a deep sigh as he rubs the bridge of his nose. "Alright, fine," he could never truly deny his younger brothers and he was never one to truly give up on someone, if anyone could do something, something he himself couldn't accomplish, it would be Titus. "I give you my permission, he's yours, I'll come by in a week to see the progress made and make a final determination at that time."

The younger Power smiles, nodding, and stands from the chair. "Thank you, Nis, I know I can do him some good. He can do good. Thank you for giving him the opportunity."

"Only for you Tus, only for you, he's yours for the taking."

…

Sorath looks up at the opening of his door, the sudden appearance of one of the Powers, most probably here to tell him that his case had been decided and to leave the premises immediately. They were all a bunch of softies, those brats needed showing of their place, they were warriors, not care givers.

"On your feet." The Power's tone is firm, harsh even, he knows this Power, he's the soft spoken one, that tone coming from him was something that made his head turn. "I said, on your feet." He yelps lightly when the tall Power takes hold of his tunic and yanks him up. "Follow me." He spins on his heel, gesturing for him to follow from over his shoulder, and leads him out of his soon to be returned room and down the hall towards the Lounge, the others watch them pass as they cross the threshold, and down the stairs that leads to the world below. Trainees and warriors watched them as they cross the training field, to the other side, and through the stone entrance to the Axis below. The Power leads him up the Axis, through the moving crowd, and up the stone path that leads to the Garden.

Joshua looks up at them at their entrance, trimming a hedge carefully, minding the roses to the side. He spares him a glance, returning his attention to the Power, he doesn't want to fall out of line with him, or run into him should he come to a sudden stop. The Power smiles at the Gardener, offering a kind wave of his hand, and the Gardener returns the gesture in kind before returning to his work at hand.

He follows the Power through the trees, to a clearing just beyond, where the trees circle around them. The grass is short and vibrant, dandelions litter around them in patches, and an over turned tree trunk is the center of their clearing.

Sorath jumps back at the sudden halt in the Power's lead, as he turns around to face him, and crosses his arms firmly. "This is what you're going to do, listen closely, I'm not going to repeat myself." He points at the tree line. "You are going to go find a long, thin, switch. You're going to clear it off, and return here in two minutes, go." He stares at the Power. " _Go."_

The rejected elect turns, running off for the tree line, in search for the item that was requested. Mentally he keeps track of the time, not wanting to find out what happens if it runs out, none of them had taken this approach before, it had always just been extra training, intense, harsh training.

He finds the long, thin branch and snaps it off the tree, turning to run back to the waiting Power, his mind trying to weed out what Titus, of all the Powers, was going to do.

Titus takes the branch that he holds out, bending it for a test in flexibility, and nods firmly. "This'll work. Now, clean it up." He passes it back to him.

Sorath nods, using the small knife he carries in his boot to strip away the little twigs that stick off of it, peeling it of it's layer of bark, until it's a smooth, thin, long switch in his hand.

He passes it back to the Power, and Titus takes it, running his fingers over the length of it. "Good. Now," he points down at his trousers. "You're going to bare yourself, down to the skin underneath," then he gestures to the overturned tree trunk. "And bend yourself over that trunk."

"What?"

_"Now."_

Sorath nods, turning quickly, hands flying down to his waist line for the belt buckle, as he crosses the distance to the overturned tree trunk to the side of them. This is such a degrading thing, bending him over a tree trunk like he's some sort of naughty fledgling, he doesn't dare argue, not when the Power has the prepared switch in hand, smacking it lightly against his hand as he waits for him to get into the commanded position.

So, he keeps his grumbles to himself, and lowers himself over the trunk into the desired position.

"Alright, we'll do this," Titus trails off for a moment, as if thinking over the number of swats, and he shrugs slightly. "Well, until it seems to truly _sink_ in."

Without reserving any of his strength, he reels his arm back, and throws it out again

…

Sorath rubs pitifully at his bottom, before rubbing at his nose with his sleeve, sitting tenderly in the chair behind the guard captain's desk. They were out there for a decent amount of time, and it didn't stop until something broke, the tears flew, the pleads sung, and he was reduced to something akin a fledgling, sobbing over that overturned tree trunk.

The Power only stopped then, as he sobbed and pleaded for him to stop, and gave him only enough time to pull his trousers up and redo his belt, before he was tugged forward, Titus shoving him forward as they took their leave from the Garden.

Something caught his eye, something behind the Power, on the shelf against the wall. It's colorful and oddly shaped. He's never seen something like it before.

"Sorath, look at me." His eyes move from the object to the Power, Titus smiles at him, a far cry from the harsh presence earlier that day. "I took you there because of my intentions, you aren't cut out to be a Power, I'm sorry, that's already been decided." He looks down slightly, the anger fades into something akin to shame, the burning in his rear end staves off the anger for the moment, he's not ready to face such an end again any time soon. "But, I'm not letting you get away that easily, you've got talent, talent that shouldn't go to waste, I need a new guard for the Prison and I think you'd do just fine."

"You're….You're offering me a position?"

"I am," Titus nods. Leaning forward on his arms, over the edge of his desk, he eyes him carefully. "Granted, there's something ground rules, of course. Such as, attacking prisoners and such is untolerated. Your attitude, on that note, is unacceptable as well. You are not above any one in station." He taps a finger over the top of his desk. "And, your anger, you're going to have to learn some control. If not, what we just went through, that's what'll happen." Sorath grimaces, the burn in his bottom seeming to intensify, shaking his head at the thought of it.

His eyes stray back to the object behind the Power.

"Sorath," Titus calls his name, and his eyes jump back down to him. "What do you say?"

"I'd like that."

His eyes stray back.

"Sorath, what has got your attention?" The Power looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight, and comes to look at the object in question. A toy robot. He's had it since he was a fledgling, it had been a gift from Michael, he used to bring back all sorts of earthen toys from his missions for the fledglings to have. The toy robot had been given to him. "Is this what's got you so captivated?"

He turns in his chair, reaching over his shoulder, curling the fingers of his left hand around the small robot figure. He turns back around, smiling at the fond memories that the toy brings, and peers back up at the newly assigned guard, he's on probation, this is a trial period. Sorath seems to captivated by it, he can't stop staring at it, and he raises an eyebrow as a smile slowly crosses his features.

The Power holds it out for the younger male. "Here."

Sorath stares at the toy, being held out in offering, held out to him with no stipulation behind it. He reaches forward, slowly and cautiously, curling his fingers lightly around the object. It's smooth to the touch, cool against his skin, and he pulls it back towards him. Titus leans back in his chair, watching him closely, this is a part of the temperamental angel they haven't seen before.

He touches one of the arms, smiling slightly when it turns under his fingers, and does the same to one of it's legs. "What is it?"

"It's a toy." The Power scratches at his cheek lightly. "Most guardians bring them back when they go to earth, didn't you have any?"

He shakes his head, looking down at the toy in wonder, slowly moving its arms, setting it on his leg and miming it to walk. Titus smiles at him, in this moment, when his anger's faded and his free from such resentment, he's like a fledgling. A childlike side come out of him, as he sits there, watching the newly assigned guard play with the toy robot, smiling lightly when the angel leans forward and walks the robot across the front of his desk.

It's like he's a small fledgling, getting a new toy, playing with it quietly.

Everything else has faded away.

"What _was_ your fledglinghood like, Sorath?"

Sorath is captivated by the toy, walking it across the front of the Power's desk, up his leg, bending its arms back and forth. "Harsh. I grew up with a seasoned Warrior. He thought such things were frivolous. I've never had a toy before."

He frowns lightly, there's many implications that could be had from such a statement, so many different meanings a ' _harsh'_ fledglinghood could have. It certainly explains the behavior, the anger, the younger angel wasn't shown the proper way to express anything, especially when he was upset over something. Watching him now, it's like that little fledgling who'd grown under a strict, _'harsh'_ warrior, is coming out to be seen again. Finally playing with a toy, much too late in the game, but better late than never, experiencing something enjoyable, having _fun._ He smiles lightly when the younger male waves the robot toy around gently, as though making it fly through the air, smiling to himself as he's taken into his own little world.

"This can be your first then." Sorath looks up at him with wide eyes, clutching the robot to his front, as though he had been on the verge of passing it back. "You can have the toy."

"I can….I can have it." The young angel looks down at the toy robot he holds so carefully. "I can have the toy."

He nods. "You can, consider it a gift, it's all yours."

The poor angel, the way he looks at him at the implication of it being a gift, the expression gives the impression that he's never received a gift before.

He's just like a fledgling.

"I…." Sorath looks up from the toy in his arms. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome." Titus smiles at him warmly. "I'll introduce you to your partner tomorrow morning, he'd be fast asleep at this time anyway, and I'll show you where your room will be." He rubs at his chin thoughtfully. "We're going to work on that temper, you and me, together. I'll make you a deal, for every week that goes by that you keep it in check, I'll get you a new toy." Sorath's eyes widen at the implication of getting more toys. "And for this week in particular, seeing as this is you probation, and your last chance, for everyday you behave yourself, you'll get a new toy." He raises a finger at him. "But, for every misstep, I take the toys away for a day. Does that sound like a fair deal?"

"I..I can have more toys?"

The Power nods. "So long as you're behaved, for an entire week, you'll get a new toy. I'll do you one better, you show me the progress you can make in this week, and at the end, I'll take you to earth. To one of their toy stores and you can pick out one toy of your choosing."

"I…I can get my very _own_ toy?"

He nods again, holding up a finger. "If you behave."

Sorath looks down at the robot in his hands, hugging it close to his chest, looking much like a fledgling, frightened that their toy is about to be taken away from them. "I'd like that."

"Good, now, let's show you to your room." Titus stands from his chair, gesturing for the new guard to follow him, smiling slightly as the younger angel stands, hugging his new toy to his chest tightly, following his new captain from his office, down the hall towards the barracks, they turn at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the Pavilion above, down the hall to the right.

The warriors stay on the left and the guards stay on the right.

Two doors down, and the Power opens the door, it's a small room with a good sized bed and a small bedside table, a desk under the window, shelves built into wall on the side, a small fireplace built into the far wall, and a wardrobe. "This is your room." He gestures to the wardrobe. "Blankets and pillows are on the top shelf." Then to the shelves beside the window. "You can set your new toy on the shelf." He pats his back softly. "Its late, and we wake up early, make up your bed and get some rest."

…

_Day One:_

"Alright, you're going to be a Prison guard, meaning its your duty to ensure your assigned prisoner is kept safe from harm." Titus led him down the Axis towards the foreboding building, explaining to him his position, and he paid apt attention, the thought of getting a new toy still fresh on his mind, he vowed to be on his best behavior. "And trust me, there are plenty who would like to see this particular prisoner harm. The Prison is kept pretty secure, there's two guards posted at the entrance, they're very difficult to get passed." He smiles at the guard securing the entrance, Aeshma smiles back, gaze turning to the new one behind her captain. Titus takes that as his given opportunity to introduce their new brother. "Esh, this is Sorath, he's going to be the new Prison guard."

"He's the one replacing Yehudiah?" She eyed the new guard critically, they'd all heard about the trouble at the Pavilion, Titus had been in a foul mood for a good couple of days following the incident. Sorath averted his eyes, he knew that those under the Powers command would know of his outbursts, he but his lip harshly, as to keep his mouth closed, he knew if he opened it he would snap at her for looking at him like that, and he didn't want to lose his chance at getting a new toy. "Are you sure?"

Titus nods at her, raising an eyebrow at the treatment, sure, Sorath didn't have the best of starts, but he wasn't a bad angel.

He was good at reading people. Sorath's anger was the only emotion he truly knew, it carried over from the resentment he had for his guardian while he grew up and flourished into something that controlled him. But there was another side to him, that childlike side, that showed itself when he'd been given the toy robot the night before. He was still so very much like that fledgling he'd once been, hopeful for affection, that he can act like the fledgling he is and behave as such. He was a fledgling in a grown body, when the moment allowed, and it was endearing to watch him play with his toy.

"He'll do fine." The Power pats the new guard on the shoulder. "We've come to an agreement."

She eyes the other angel wearily, but shrugs in the end, not her place to question it. Too much. "Well, if your sure." She smiles at him. "Welcome to the family, then."

Titus smiles at her, as she steps aside to allow them entrance, he steps forward and pulls the thick metal door open, gesturing for Sorath to enter first, and he followed behind, closing the door behind him once he'd entered. Temeluch smiled at them both, he wasn't one to judge, if Titus thought he make it as a guard, then he was welcome among them, in his opinion anyway.

He's led down the corridor to another door. "Your partner is Sabaoth. He's in charge of you." He spares him a glance as he opens another door for them. "And, if you're wondering, he reports back to me. Remember our deal. He's a nice angel, calm, laid back. He'd be a good fit for you." Three angels sit together, two at one cell, and one across from them at the other. Titus gestures to the two on the one side. "They're Rahab and Osmadiel, they guard Zachariah." He gestures to the one on the other side. "This is Sabaoth, like I said, he's your partner."

The one he gestures to holds a hand out to him. "Hello." Sorath leans forward, to shake his hand, and he gets a smile in a kind greeting. "You can call me 'Saba' if you want, everyone else does." Sabaoth knows him of course, everyone heard of the incident at the Pavilion, but he wasn't one to hold opinions about a person until he met them, got to know them, and Titus thought he could make it as a guard, if he thought he could do the job, then he'd let him give it a try before he made any passing of judgement. "What do I call you?"

"My names Sorath."

"Nice to meet you, Sorath." He retracts his hand and leans back against the corner of the stone wall. "Can I call you 'Sora'?" The new guard nods lightly and Titus smiles at their interaction, he knew pairing them together would be a good idea.

"Cool, well, welcome Sora," he gestures to the cell beside him. "We guard Metatron."

Sorath leans forward to peer into the cell, the occupant glares at him hotly, and he leans back again.

Titus turns to him, touching his arm lightly, is a gentle touch. "Metatron is a… _Trying…._ one to watch over. It'll show us just how well you can keep hold of that temper. You're stationed here from sunrise to sunset, breaks and such in between at Saba's call for timing. The weekends are off days for you to as you please. You, in particular, are to be back in your room by eight-thirty. In bed at ten. Do you understand?"

The younger angel nods silently, mind turning at the possibility of what his new toy might be, he knows Titus is good on his word. The Power smiles. "Good. Remember, good behavior gets you new toys, bad behavior gets toys taken away." He flushes slightly, the others hearing about his toys, and he spares them a look quickly, they smile up at him, not speaking a word on the matter. Titus smiles at him, turning to peer at his partner. "Saba, I want a report at the end of every day this week, alright?"

"Yessir."

He got two new toy cars that evening.

…

_Day two:_

He looks up at the knock on his office door, calling out a grant of entrance, putting the papers aside for the moment he was needed. "Come in."

Sabaoth pokes his head in, opening the door for him and Sorath to enter, closing it with a soft click behind him, they both take a seat in the two chairs in front of his desk. Titus folds his hands before him over top his desk, giving them both a smile in greeting, and they returned the smile, one more hesitantly then the other, but the smile is returned none the less.

They're still working on it.

He turns to his elder guard. "Report."

Sabaoth looks to his brother and partner quickly. "It was a good day." Sorath looks down to his lap and he raises an eyebrow at the action. "We almost had an incident. In his defense though, Metatron's been picking on him, in my opinion, he held himself rather well."

"I see," he turns to the younger guard. "Sorath, did you harm him?"

Quickly, not wanting his toys to be taken away, he shook his head.

Sabaoth enlightened him. "I talked him down. We talked about his robot and cars for most of the day, and what his new toy might possibly be, Metatron gave up when he realized he wasn't going to get a rise from him."

Titus smiles, turning to the younger guard, Sorath still stares down at his lap. "Sora, look at me, please." He hesitantly looks up, biting his lip nervously, he hadn't acted on his anger, but he had almost let it get the best of him. "I'm proud of you, Sora." He looks up even more at the praise. "You didn't let your anger control you, no matter how hard I'm sure it was to abate, I'm very proud. You did a great job." A smile slowly crawls over his features at the kind praise for controlling his temper. "And, of course, that deserves a reward." He sits forward in excited anticipation as the Power leans to the side, opening a drawer in his desk, and pulls something out. Sorath's smile widens as he passes one toy to his other hand, an action figure all in red, and pulls the other one up with his right, another action figure in a blue parka.

Sabaoth smiles with his captain when the Power holds the two new toys out to him, across his desk, and Sorath takes them quickly, thanking him softly, and looks down at them happily. He hugs them close to his chest and looks up to his new captain with a smile. "Thank you."

"You deserved them, Sora, no thanks is necessary. But you're most certainly welcome." Titus nods at Sabaoth in thanks for his report, and talking Sorath down and distracting him, the elder guard nods in return. "Sir, Tus, with your permission, I'd like to give Sora some of my old toys as well."

The younger guard turns to look at him, away from his new toys, with wide hopeful eyes. "More toys!"

Sabaoth smiles at him. "Yes, little brother, more toys. You've been doing so well. I'm proud of you, as well." He turns back to his captain. "With your permission, of course."

The Power smiles at him, spares the younger man a glance, and nods at the elder. "Granted."

He gets two more cars, two boats, and an airplane from his new older brother.

…

_Day three:_

"You can have these back in one days' time."

"No, Tus, no!"

The Power had been collecting his toys in a small burlap bag, a punishment for letting his anger get the best of him and breaking Metatron's nose, it was no real sad occurrence, but the punishment must stand.

Sorath hugs two of his beloved toys to his chest, shaking his head frantically at the Power, standing direct to him, hand held out expectantly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Hand them over."

"No, Tus, please!"

He flexes his fingers gently. "Give me the toy cars, Sora."

"Tuuus!" The guard whines, stepping away from him, curling around his two saved toys. "Not all of them! Please, Tus! Please!"

Titus sighs, eyeing him carefully, and nods in surrender. "You can keep the two cars, but everything else comes with me. For one day."

"But, Tus!"

"I can take the two cars."

"No!" He shakes his head, turning away from him, hugging his toys to his chest. "No!"

"Alright, one day," The Power seems to think quickly. "Get yourself ready for bed. It's early to bed with you tonight."

"I can keep my cars."

Titus nods. "You can keep your cars." He points to the bed. "No playtime tonight. You're going to get into your night clothes and go to bed."

"No…No playtime?"

"None. I will be back in two minutes to check on you, and you had better be in bed, or I'm taking the cars too."

"No!" He shakes his head frantically. "I'll be in bed! I swear!"

"Then you better get going."

He turns then, leaving him in his room, to take the toys up to his own room for safe keeping. Sorath sniffled, looking down at his two cars, then to his empty shelf. He set his cars down on the shelf, trusting in Titus when he said he could keep his two cars, and that he meant it when he said he would take them if he wasn't in bed by the time he returned.

Part of him was angry that he was being treated like a fledgling, but the fear that his toy cars would be taken too out weighed his anger, and he quickly tugged at the belt around his waist, undoing it with haste, and tugged his trousers off, his tunic over his head, and quickly slid into his night close, then under his blankets, just as the Power turned the edge of the doorway back into his room.

Titus smiles at him as he crosses to his bed, sitting lightly on the edge. "Good boy." He strokes a finger down his nose, tapping the tip lightly. "Don't look so down, I knew you'd have a moment eventually, you'll get your toys back tomorrow morning."

"You promise?"

"I do."

…

_Day four:_

"Hold still, Sora, I'm just about done." He snipped at the sides of his hair, keeping the stands the size he liked them, but cutting away the dead ends. Smiling over his head as he watched him play with his toy plane, making small sounds under his breath as he swung it around gently, as though he were making it fly around before them himself. "You like your airplane, little angel?"

He pauses when he feels the hair under his hands shift, as the young guard turned to look up at him, smiling brightly, eyes gleaming, not a speck of anger to be found. "I love my airplane, Tus!"

There's that little fledgling.

"I'm glad," he pokes his nose lightly, gently guiding his head back again, tilting it forward as he comes to work on the hair at the back of his head. "Which toys your favorite?"

"The robot!" He smiles again at the sight of no hesitation. "I love the robot very much!"

"Why's that your favorite?" He brushes a few fingers down the back of his neck as he pulls the strands out to test the length and its evenness. He raises an eyebrow at the back of the young guards head when his shoulders shake lightly. Sorath turns his head slightly. "You gave it to me."

He chuckles lightly, tilting his head slightly when his shoulders shake again, his knuckles brushing against the right side of his neck. "I've given you a number of toys this week. What makes that one so special?"

"It's the first one."

Setting the scissors aside, he runs his fingers through his hair. "Well, you're a very good little angel, you deserve every toy you have." Titus brushes his fingers through the soft locks, gathering his shoulder length hair into one hand, reaching to a hair tie on the table in front of them, curling the shoulder length hair into a bun, he tied it in place. Smiling to himself, he tilts his head, reaching out with one finger to scratch at the side of his neck. Sorath bits his lip, scrunching his shoulder up as high as he could manage it, and his shoulders shake lightly with silent giggles. "Oh, little Sora, is your bitty little neck ticklish?"

"No?"

"Oh, really?" He adjusts his position, curling the fingers of his right hand around the young guards forehead, pulling his head back to rest against his stomach behind him, reaching around him with his left hand to wiggle fingers against the underside of his chin, down to his collar bones, and then back up again. "Are you sure?"

Sorath pressed against his hand, trying to bend his head forward, his shoulders rising as high as he could raise them, and despite his biting his upper lip, a stream of light giggles started escaping him in a steady row. High pitched giggles, like those of a young fledgling, he shook his head the best that he could in an attempt to dislodge the fingers, or evade them, it didn't work, he followed him wherever he went and his gentle grip around his forehead kept him in place.

"I don't believe you." He dragged a single finger down from the tip of his chin, across the taught skin, down to his collar, and spider'd all five back up again. "Listen to those bubbly giggles." He moves his fingers again, dragging two up to a point just behind his right ear and down to his collar, again and again, Sorath bites his lip harder to keep the giggles from gushing out at the repetitive light touch.

The giggles overpower his willpower when the fingers wiggle a path from the side of his neck, over his throat, and up under his chin.

Shaking his head frantically, in an attempt to dislodge the torturous fingers, a soft snort escapes from his tightly sealed lips and light, high-pitched giggles fill the Power's bedroom.

Titus chuckles warmly, fondly, tilting his head back against his stomach, a bit firmer this time, to keep him from shaking his head in a vain attempt for escape to his playful torture. His younger brother shrieks lightly, a bright shriek, a far away sound from the angry snarls that usually came from him after a bout of silence, when he strokes all five fingers down the front of his taught neck and back up again, scratching lightly under his chin. "I should do this more often." He lets go of his forehead, smiling to himself in amusement when the young guard, rather noticeably, doesn't pull away from him at first chance, and he wiggles those fingers around the right side of his neck, as he wiggles the fingers of his left hand around the other.

Sorath shrieks and giggles, shaking his head lightly, pulling his shoulders back up.

He pause his playful assault and the shoulders fall away.

The fingers on the right side of his neck start wiggling and he shrieks, giggling like a fledgling, as he thrusts his shoulder up, tilting his head to try and block the fingers.

He pauses and the young guard slowly uncurls.

The fingers on the left side of his neck start wiggling now, and he shrieks again, giggling those high pitched giggles again, as he thrusts his shoulder back up, tilting his head to that side.

They repeat that game over and over again.

"Like I said, I should do this more often, we can tickle and giggle that rage away."

"Tuhuhus!"

"I love your giggles." He wiggles his fingers on both sides, the shoulders scrunching up like a turtle sliding into its shell, giggling brightly and happily. "They're so cute."

"Stohoohohop!"

"What's the magic word?"

Sorath shakes his head, giggling and giggling. "Plehehehease!"

Titus chuckles, pulling back, noting the knowledge that, not once, had the young guard pulled away from him even though he was free to do so at any time, seeing as nothing had been holding him back. He strokes his cheek as he comes out from behind him, coming around to sit in front of him on his bed, Sorath ducked, hiding his shining eyes and flushed cheeks and he ducked in an attempt to get to his eyes and make that contact. "Sora, I did notice, you didn't try and pull away."

The guard blushed all the way to his ears, ducking in on himself further, petting his fingers over the top of his airplane. He liked the gently, playful touch, it made him feel bubbly and happy. He liked laughing, it felt better then being angry all the time, he liked it. He never admitted it, not when he had been a small fledgling, his guardian had yelled at him when he'd giggle at the light touch to his neck during haircuts, so he bit back his giggles and laughter, and turned them into growls and snarls, and not when he'd grown older. He thought it was inappropriate, because his guardian had said it was, so he just kept it to himself and let his anger at life fester.

"Sora?" He winced at the concern in the gentle Power's tone.

"Ilikeit."

His captain chuckles lightly, poking his hand lightly. "I didn't quiet catch that."

"I said," he takes a deep breath. "I said, I like it."

"You like being tickled?"

A bout of silence fell between them, as the young angel waited for the explosion tensely, this would be the one thing that broke the thing they had going. He wouldn't be getting any more toys, he'd have to hide the ones he had to keep them safe, his mind automatically running through hiding spots around his room.

He looked up with wide eyes with a gentle finger poked his nose, Titus smiled at him. "Okay."

"O..Okay?"

"Okay. That's okay." The Power nods at him kindly. "It's okay to like something."

Sorath gives him a small smile. "Really?" He looks down for a moment before returning his gaze upwards. "You don't think it's bad?"

"Of course not." He shakes his head. "I don't very much mind what it is you like, if you like it, then you like it."

He returns the smile when the young guard looks up at him and smiles. "Thanks, Tus."

"Of course, Sora." He reaches forward and squeezes his young guards knee lightly, he jolts under his touch, giggling lightly. "If you ever want me to tickle you, you just have to ask, alright?"

"No!" His eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. "No, I can't ask! People might think I'm bad! I don't want anyone to know!"

"Okay, that's fine, we can have a secret word," Titus pat his knee reassuringly. "We can use a codeword when you want to be tickled."

Sorath thinks it over carefully, but nods in approval, that would be better then saying it outright.

"You think of the code word."

He hums, thinking deeply, extensively, it had to be a word that meant something to them both, something that had meaning to them. It had to be a good word. A word that be well heard.

"Robot."

Titus smiles lightly. "Alright, whenever you want me to tickle you, you just say 'robot'."

Sorath smiles at him in return, looking back down to his airplane in the next moment, turning one of the wheels with his free hand. "Thanks, Tus."

"Always."

…

_Day five: Final Determination_

Titus smiled to the one on his right, sitting cross legged on the floor next to his desk, completely captivated by the set of Legos they'd been given. An early reward for that day, it being his day off, there wasn't a chance for any outbursts, and he'd done so good through the week they'd had, only one outburst and it had been given at the final straw, he'd withheld as much as he could, over all, he'd been well behaved. Titus thought it appropriate to give him the toy early that morning.

He'd been sitting there since, putting together the Lego set, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth ever since.

He looked up at the knock on his door, fingers curling around the edge, pushing the door open gently for them to peek in. "Tus?" Nisroc appeared, and the guard captain smiled to him in greeting, waving him in. Nisroc pushed the door open completely, pausing for a moment at the sight of the new young guard, too captivated on his Lego set to notice the new arrival in the office, and smiled slightly at the peaceful, concentrated expression that adorned his features, far from the angry spirit he had seen a week and some days ago. "Come on in, Nis."

Titus's call of his name had the young guard looking up from his toy set, he smiled at him for a moment, a sight that stunned him for a brief time, and looked back to his toys again.

Shaking his head, he crossed into the office, and sat in one of the chairs across from his brother, setting his bag down on the chair next to him. He couldn't help but look back to the young guard, still on probation given his previous exchanges, and watch him concentrate so completely on putting his Lego set together, this angel was a complete turnaround from the angel he had seen a little over a week ago. He looked like a fledgling, gifted with a new toy to play with, and nothing else fit into that exciting little world.

"Tus, this…" The Captain of the Powers turns to his brother with a flabbergasted expression. "How did you do _this_ in one weeks' time?"

"Oh, I have my ways," he winks at his Captain. "I know my guards _very_ well."

"I see that." Nisroc turns back to the new guard, smiling slightly, it was an endearing sight. "Anything to report on him?"

"There was a bit of an outburst, just one, and it was handled as deemed necessary. Other then that," he smiles at his little guard as he gestures at him. "He's been like this. Sora's a good angel, he's got a good heart, we just have to work through a few things."

The elder Power nods in understanding, turning back to his brother, Titus meets his gaze. "And, you're sure you can take care of him?" He rubs at his cheek lightly, leaning back in the chair, and crosses his arms loosely. "Keep him in line?"

"I'm sure I got him covered." Titus leans over, brushing the young guards hair back, he smiles at the action, leaning into the Power's hand lightly, still completely focused on his toy set. "We have an agreement."

Sorath looks up at him, he knows when he's being talked about, and when it's okay for him to cut in. "It's the end of the week, Tus, did I do good enough for the toy store?"

He smiles at the young guards innocent question, his eyes are so bright, brighter then Nisroc has ever seen them, and he watches the interaction closely. "You sure did, Sora, you've been a very good angel. We'll go after I'm done here, alright?" Sorath nods, a bright smile spreading over his features, and Nisroc shakes his head in wonder. "Good angel, you keep working on your building for right now, okay?" Sorath nods again, tongue poking back out of the corner of his mouth, returning to his building of his Lego creation.

"Tus, I have to say," Nisroc nods lightly. "I'm very impressed with the progress you've made, and in the short amount of time that a week gives, I'm very impressed."

"Why, thank you, brother." Titus leans back slightly, crossing his own arms over his chest, he smiles mischievously. "Did you ever doubt me?"

"Not at all."

Nisroc smiles at him in fond amusement, nodding his head, he looks back to the young guard next to them. "You have my permission. I can see how much good you're doing for him, it would be wrong to take that now, you may have him as one of your guards."

"Thank you, older brother, I really appreciate it."

The Power's Captain nods, smiling as he leans forward with his bag, Sorath looks up at him when he pats his cheek with an outstretched finger. "Here, I got you a gift for your new position."

"A gift?" Sorath's eyes widen, as his hands slowly lower, setting the half completed Lego creation down in his lap. "For me?"

"Yes, for you, Tus actually came to me earlier this morning with his report, this was only for formality." He smiles when the guard tentatively takes the bag from him. "I thought it was right to give a gift for the event."

Sorath's eyes widen with awe, pulling the gift bag closer, and tentatively pulls the thin gift paper out of the bag. Dipping his hand in, his fingers curl around something smooth, it has wheels, he feels it turn under his fingers. Biting his lip in excitement, he's got a present, he pulls out a small wooden toy. It's as big as his hand, has four wheels, and a smoke stack. "A toy train!" He smiles as he runs it over his leg, around in an arch in front of him, eyes shining with happiness. "Thanks!"

"You're very welcome, Sora, but that's not all."

He turns to look up at the elder Power with wide eyes. "There's….There's more?"

Nisroc nods, smiling at his excitement. "There is."

A bright, excited smile lighting his features, he reaches back into the bag. It's something soft, squishy under his fingers, slightly awkward in shape. He pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and pulls it out of the back, it becomes as light as air, he knows that its empty and he sets it down. It's a stuffed toy, in an assortment of blue colors, and he hugs it close to his chest. "You got me a stuffed animal!" He hugs it close, twisting around, like a fledgling in all their innocence. "Thank you! I love my new toys!"

"You are very welcome, young Sora, I left you one more gift." Sorath's eyes widen almost comically, mouth falling slightly ajar. "That's right, it's in a box, sitting on your bed."

He immediately snaps his attention to his captain, eyes wide and pleading, hopeful and excited. Titus chuckles lightly, nodding his head in permission, waving to the door gently. "Go on and check it out." Sorath quickly climbs to his feet. "But, Sora," and turns back around to his captain. "Make sure to come back and clean up your mess."

"Okay!" He runs from the room, the anticipation killing him, and they watch him go with both amusement and fondness.

Nisroc shakes his head lightly. "I am truly impressed."

"You're spoiling him, already."

"It was nothing," he waves his hand lightly, winking at his younger brother, rubbing at his arm softly. "It's just a box of Paul and Sasha's old toys."

"I can't believe you." Titus snorts at him. "You're such a softie."

"Tus! Tus!"

They both turn as the young guard joins them again, the box of toys clutched in his arms against his chest, and they share a smile. "Yes, Sora?"

"Look at what Nisroc gave me!"


	52. A Flock Of Sick Guards

They waited patiently at the door for her to slowly make her way up the stairs to the entrance with the key, it was an old key, ancient in its design, and was nearly as big as her entire hand as she handled it.

Temeluch yawned into his hand as he watched her make her way to them languidly, she had been the last one to rise that morning, and thus they were left waiting on her to open the door. He leaned against his spear, his eyes drooping, shivering slightly in the cool deep autumn wind.

Sorath yawned into his fist, leaning against the oldest guard comfortably, Sabaoth rubbed his eyes slightly and rubbed the younger guards arm softy, trying and failing to rouse him into a wakeful standing position.

Rahab had fallen to sit at their feet, her legs crossed, head held up in her palms, her eyes closed as she waited silently and patiently.

Osmadiel was the one to finally say something, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he threw his hands up. "Would you hurry up already, the sooner you unlock the door, the sooner I can sit and go back to sleep…I mean…Sit and watch."

Aeshma glared at him, there was no heat behind it, and stared at him with said glare as she walked passed him, slipping the key into the locks hole, turned it, the tumblers clinking, and pulled the door open. She gestured for them to enter with a gesture that was soaked in silent sarcasm, and reached for her belt to hook the key back to it, Temeluch rubbed her arm as he walked passed her, taking up his place at the inside of the door, the others filing in after him.

Their oldest brother rubbed their youngest brothers arm lightly. "Come on, Sora, we can sit down when we get to our post." Sorath nods lightly, pulling away from his side, rubbing his eyes softly as he lets himself be guided forward. Sabaoth leads him through the door, taking his spear and his younger brother's into hand, and nods for him to follow him down the hall to the other door. Osmadiel steps around him, his own spear in hand, and opens the door for them, propping it open with a ledge of wood, stepping in first. Their nightly replacements smile at their appearance, meaning that they were done with their round, and stood from their stools, exchanging soft farewells and greetings as they stepped passed them, trading places for the day.

They were there to keep watch over the day.

And the night guards were heading to bed.

Sabaoth sets the younger guards spear to rest against the far side of the cell door frame, and guides him to sit on his stool, Sorath nods in appreciation, waiting for the elder guard to cross behind him, setting his own spear to lean against the nearest side of the frame, and seats himself on his stole. He, himself, leans against the corner, and Sorath leans back against him, his eyes closing softly.

Rahab does much of the same, setting her spear to rest against the corner, folding over on herself. Osmadiel leans back against his corner, crossing his arms loosely, his eyes close softly too.

Their prisoners are still sleeping, for which they are grateful, that means it's going to be a quite morning.

"Well, aren't we a wakeful bunch this morning."

He's much to chipper for this time of the morning. Osmadiel opens his eyes to glare at him, the Power smiles back, the other coming up behind him, they both look much too happy to be awake at this hour. Titus waves a few fingers at him, and he sticks his tongue out him as the mature thing to do, and leans back against his corner again.

Their captain snorts in amusement.

"Still not a morning person, Os?"

The second oldest guard groans into his hands, peeking out between his fingers, glaring at the new voice.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Well, I'm allowed to be in my own Prison, and perhaps I just wanted to see my dearest little Os, again."

Osmadiel groans again and flops forward, Sabaoth chuckles lightly at his misery, like the traitor he is. Nisroc smiles over at him, before returning his gaze to the younger of his two grown charges, Osmadiel refuses to look back up again.

Titus smiles at their exchange, kneeling before his folded up guard, stroking his hand down the back of her head. "Ra, can you sit up for me?" She huffs softly, but does as he asks, and he smiles at her as he presses the back of his hand to her forehead, frowning lightly as he feels, and then to her cheeks. "Right." He stands, turning to his youngest guard. "Sora," the young guard opens his eyes at the call of his name, but doesn't pull away from leaning against his older brother's chest. "What's the problem here?"

He rubs at his eyes lightly. "Don't feel good, Tus."

"You don't feel well, Sora?"

He shakes his head, and Titus smiles at him, holding a hand out to the youngest guard. "Come here, Sora." The youngest guard looks up at his older brother for a moment, as though asking permission to move, Sabaoth nods silently, and Sorath stands, tucking himself against the Power's side comfortably. Titus smiles down at him, rubbing his free hand over the top of his head, he presses the back of his hand over his forehead, nodding to himself, and then to his cheeks. "You're a bit warm, little angel."

"Sabaoth," his eyes flit up to his old guardian, pushing away from the corner he's leaning against when he beckons him forward with a wag of his finger, he reaches forward to feel his temple with the back of his hand. "What are you supposed to do if you aren't well?"

"Stay in bed."

"What did you not do?"

"Stay in bed."

"Right," Titus looks up from his little angel's flushed face. "I've arranged for others to cover for you all for the next couple of days. Let's go." He turns, guiding the young angel under his arm around with him, Nisroc curls his arm around Sabaoth's shoulders, catching Osmadiel as he passes him, as they all follow after the captain of the guards.

He leads them across the Training field, shooing any wandering eyes back to their training as they pass, and up the stairs to the Pavilion above. They stop in the Lounge, where a pile of blankets await them, Titus turns to face them when he comes to stand next to the pile. "Alright, each one of you take up at least one blanket."

They all reach over for a blanket, Rahab takes two, and they turn as he does, gesturing to the pillow filled lounge. "Find a spot and get comfortable." Rahab darts off, claiming a spot against two large pillows, curls up in her two blankets, turning into a small mound that rises and falls with every inhale and exhale. She doesn't take much convincing. Aeshma and Temeluch curl up together next to Rahab, leaning against each other as their eyes close once more. Osmadiel steps out from under Nisroc's arm, taking his blanket with him, he collapses on his belly, and pulls the blanket up over his head. Sabaoth steps forward, holding his hand out for the youngest guard tucked against his captain's side, and Titus urges him forward. "Go with your big brother, Sora."

Sorath nods. "Okay, Tus."

Sorath takes Sabaoth's hand, and the older guard leads him forward, to an empty spot, and settles them down. He leans back against the pillow, legs out stretched, crossed at the ankles, and lifts his right arm as Sorath curls underneath it, resting his head on his older brothers stomach, his eyes closing as the arm curls around him.

Titus and Nisroc busy themselves with tucking them in for a quiet moment, and then return to their positions, arms crossed loosely. "You all get some sleep, we'll wake you up in a bit for some broth and crackers."

Let it never be said that Titus doesn't take good care of his guards.


	53. The Aftermath

He sighs, watching the young angel sleep peacefully, it's a drugged sleep, he's on a number of medicines at the moment, and leans forward to stroke stray curls from his face, smiling slightly when he leans into the touch lightly.

It had been fourteen days, thirteen nights, since he found him locked in one of those godforsaken cages, he didn't remember what they were for very clearly, but he knows it was nothing good. It had been seven days, six nights, since he had to cut him down from hanging in one of the back cells, only happened upon by accident, one of the new guards getting lost in the twists and turns that was the Prisons floor plan had been the one to come across him, hanging limply from the high bar of the gate doorframe. It wasn't the first attempt that had occurred in this place, and he knew that it wouldn't be the last, but for it to hit so close to home hurt him in ways he hadn't experienced before. They'd struggled to hold him up, lessen the cinching around his neck, and his yells for aid that had attracted the others. One of them had the foresight to make him aware of the situation, and he'd run with them to the unfolding scene, watching for a moment as a number of guards tried to hold him straight, to keep from pulling any which way, to keep it from inhibiting airflow.

It had been him who climbed up the frame, sawing through the thick rope with the dagger he kept on his hip, watching as the boy fell limply, like a dropped rag doll, into the arms of the guards under him. He sent two off to inform the Healer, as they set him on the floor, his body limp in their hold, feeling for a pulse, any sign that he was still breathing. If one held their ear above the boy's mouth, centimeters from touching his lips, one could hear the soft wheeze of oxygen struggling to come and go, his chest barely rose and fell, just a slight twitch really, but it was something.

The Healer had arrived five minutes later, rushing forward, pushing through the crowd of gathered guards, kneeling behind the boy, he examined him quickly, pressing his fingers to his throat, frowning deeply as he felt around for the damage. Nothing felt torn, nothing felt broken, which was a positive in this extreme negative.

He nodded when the Warden inquired about moving him, leaning back as the younger angel gathered the boy up into his arms, frowning as he hung limply from the Warden's arm, parting the crowd with a sharp order, following behind as the young Warden carried the boy forward, towards the end of the hall, turning the corner, down that hall, and around that corner at the end, turning for the stairs that led up to his quarters. He stood back as he set him down on the bed lightly, shimmying him out of his trousers and undergarment, the boy had soiled them after the first few moments of him hanging there, and stepped forward to continue examining him while the Warden moved to the wardrobe to fetch a new pair of garments for him.

There was a heavy cloud that fell over the structure after that.

And now, here he sat, at his bedside, watching him wheeze in and out, his chest rise and fall slowly. His windpipe had been bruised, it was slightly inflamed, hence the wheezing, but nothing was broken, which was a blessing in disguise.

He slides his hand down the side of the bed, sliding it under the little hand, and curls his fingers around it as he lifts it up, pressing his lips to the smooth knuckles tenderly. "It wasn't your fault, Ados. It wasn't."

An ambush on the squadron that had been sent to the front had left them in pieces, out of the twenty men who had gone, only six returned, and Barbados had been blamed. The documents he had given away weren't important, merely lists of supplies that were needed and the such, nothing important, but no one else knew that. They hadn't the need to know. And, they had blamed the boy, the abuse had started small, and then ended up with him locked in a cage for twelve hours, an extremely claustrophobic child locked in a tiny cage wouldn't have any positive outcomes. He chided himself mentally for not noticing the oddness in his disappearance, it wasn't uncommon for the boy to disappear throughout the day, but he always came to check in, and he hadn't, but he'd thought nothing of it, assuming the boy had merely forgotten, nothing to worry about, it happened to the best of them.

How wrong he had been.

"The documents you gave away weren't important. Nothing but a fancy grocery list. What happened wasn't your fault, Ados, it wasn't. It was just a coincidence." He presses his lips back to the small knuckles. "It's okay. You're going to be okay. I'm here, little one, I'm right here. I'm not leaving you. I'm here. I've got you." He smiles slightly when the little fingers curl just a tad tighter around his, just a small amount of pressure, but it's a milestone. "That's it, little guy, I'm here, I'm right here."

His eyes flutter softly, fluttering open slightly, and he smiles down at him, kissing his knuckles again. "Hey, little guy."

"K…ill….ed….th….them…..a….all."

"Hey, hey, no talking, remember." He leans over, touching a finger to the boys lips. "You'll aggravate your throat injuries." The boy frowns, but nods, and points at his chest. "It was not your fault, I know it seems that way, but it wasn't." He leans forward, caressing his cheek lightly. "Those documents you gave away?" The boy nods, staring up at him with large cloudy eyes. "They were nothing more then lists of supplies. Nothing important. Michael would never leave those sorts of documents out where just anyone could touch them."

Barbados stares up at him with wide eyes and his heart breaks just a bit for him, oh, how much he had suffered, and for nothing. Tears will in those big eyes, and his face begins to screw up, it makes his throat hurt, but he breaths a sob anyway.

Thaddeus's eyes widen, and he jumps forward. "Oh, no, no, don't cry." He sits himself on the edge of the bed, reaching around to curl his fingers around his middle, pulling him around to rest in his lap. "No, no, it's okay. Sshhh, sshhh." He tucks the poor boy under his chin, stroking at the curls on the back of his head, humming softly deep in his chest a soothing tune. "You're okay, it's okay, hush, little one."

Barbados curls around him, clutching at his tunic tightly, crying and wheezing into his chest. "Oh, my poor little Ados, how you've suffered, and it was all for nothing." He presses a kiss to the side of his head. "I'm going to make it all better, don't you worry, everything's going to be okay." He reaches forward, bending slightly, for the vials on his bedside table. Carefully, he uncaps the cork with his teeth, and spits the cap out over his shoulder, he leans forward, holding the vial up to the little angel's lips. "Hear, drink this, little guy, it'll help you feel better."

The boy coughs weakly, curling his lips around the top, gulping as he swallows the potion, it goes down harshly, and he whines at the pain it brings.

Leaning forward once more, the Warden sets the empty vial on the bedside table and begins stroking his curls down. "Hush, little one, let the medicine help. It'll make you feel all better again."

Barbados yawns silently, nuzzling closer, and he carefully kicks his boots off, turning them around in the bed, he himself resting back against the pillows and the boy resting comfortably back against his chest.

He strokes his cheek lightly. "That's it, let it take hold, don't fight it. There you go, get some sleep, little one, I'm not going anywhere."

…

He sits behind his desk, one arm outstretched, beating his fingers against the desk top lightly. His other arm is curled around his boy's lower back. Barbados is fast asleep, and he's a deep sleeper, he wouldn't wake for anything but an explosion, straddling his waist, resting fully on his lap, his cheek pressing to his left chest. He still wheezes softly, but it's not as pronounced as it was before, his windpipe is still bruised, he's still on a talking restriction, and he's still pretty medicated, leaving him sleeping most of the time, it was better that way.

"So, it was you two who stuffed _my_ boy into a cage."

The two guards standing before him shiver slightly at the ice in his tone, it was only the boy sleeping in his lap that kept him from climbing to his feet, maybe throw a few punches, knock a couple of heads around, he smiled internally, apparently he made a nice bed.

"Sir….Please…" The one on the right attempts to come to their defense, raising her hands placatingly, attempting to appeal to his better side, to his nonvengeful side. It was out at the moment, it may be back later, who knows. "We didn't know _he_ was yours."

"Oh, so you're telling me, had you known you wouldn't have shoved him in that cage and left him there to rot. _That_ fact is what would have stopped you. Not the fact that its immoral and against what you are meant to stand for." His expression darkens. " _No_. Knowing he was your _boss's_ kid is what made it wrong."

"Please, the traitor deserved it, he caused the deaths of plenty a good men. You should have left him there."

He turns his attention to the other. "Azbogah, your greatest fear is the darkness, you attacked a minor unprovoked. How about I lock you down in Solitary, where it used to be, leave you down there for twelve hours. With no one down there, the only light there would be is from the escort that takes you down there, don't think that _anyone_ would hesitate to disobey my command."

"You.." the guard pales slightly. "You wouldn't…"

"Oh, and why not?" He leans forward slightly, careful not to jostle the sleeping boy, and glares at him harshly. "Because it's _immoral_ and _wrong_?" He leans back again, rubbing his fingers through the boys curls when he stirs lightly, he sighs, rubbing his cheek over his breast, and falls back down. "What would you know about that?"

"But, sir, that's different, he—"

"Had _nothing_ to do with what happened. It was a tragic coincidence, and that's all, nothing more."

"He gave over documents—"

"Of supplies."

Azbogah blinks. "What?"

"They were supply lists. What needed filled. Inventory documents." He returns to beating his fingers against the desk top. "Nothing of importance."

The other guard, Amitiel, curls her hand around her mouth, as if that was what made it wrong.

"It doesn't matter _what_ sort of documents were given over, or what the consequences of those actions are, it's _not_ in your place to punish for it, especially so cruelly. What you did was unjustified. You are here to protect and serve, not to rain down consequences." He presses his free hand to the side of his chest the little angel isn't resting against. "Punishing _my_ prisoners is _my_ right, and _my_ right _alone_. I give permission to the guards I deem trustworthy enough with that power, myself, it is not given freely."

The Warden presses a finger to his desk. "Your keys, if you please."

Azbogah and Amitiel back up another step, reaching back to curl their fingers around their keys, this was their second assignment, they'd been moved from their first, this was their second chance. "Sir, plea—"

"I have no room for you two in my Prison, I have no patience for your thoughtless behavior, I have no need for your services." He taps his finger to his desk. "So, I need your keys returned. I will be informing your captain on your behavior, and seeing how it's not _my_ place, I will leave it up to Titus to see you punished appropriately." Thaddeus leans forward again, curling his free hand around the back of the boy's head. "But, if it _were_ up to me, I'd lock you two down in the hole and loose the key for, I don't know, a week." The Warden shrugs lightly. "Or, until I remembered where I put it." He leans back again, stroking the back of the boy's head, and nods to the door. "Get out of my Prison."

…

He started seeing Akriel after the first week of his recovery, he couldn't talk because of his restriction, but he had a journal, he wrote everything in his journal, he wrote about everything and anything. Akriel would read his entry and write back, it was how they had their session, because he couldn't talk, and even if he did, he wouldn't want to, so writing made it easier for them all.

Akriel said it would help, and it did, he liked writing in his journal.

Thaddeus had asked how he could help too, and he'd asked him just to hold him, so he did, every chance he had.

So, here he lay, stretched out between the Warden's legs, stretching up over his stomach, writing in his journal, as the elder angel read a book over his head. He kicks his feet slightly, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he scribbles away.

"It's getting near bedtime."

He hums. "Just a little bit longer, Thaddy?"

Thaddeus chuckles softly, his chest rumbles under him, and he leans forward to kiss the top of his head. "Just a bit longer."

…


	54. You Found Me

He screams, when _he_ comes around the corner, dropping the two bowls of stew in his hands. The ceramic bowls shatter upon impact. He stumbles back, away from him, because it's impossible for him to be there. _Impossible._ He was the one who had given them his ceremonial clothes, watched them clean him up and dress him, he was the one who did his hair up. He was there when they walked him down to the pyre, he watched them set him on top of it, _he_ was the one who had _lit_ the torch. He'd watched the flames _devour_ him, he'd watched until there was nothing left but ash, he watched it all happen.

He was there!

It was _impossible_ for him to be standing there.

"You're…. You're…. _You're…."_ He stumbles back a step, nearly slipping in the spilled stew, and catches himself with the wooden countertop, his hand singes the wood. "I saw…... I watched…. I was _there_!"

"Mal, it's okay, I can explain." He jumps back, he can feel steam rising off his skin, when he reaches out for him. "Mal, you need to calm down, you're going to light up."

"You're…..I….You're…"

"Mal, I can explain." He has no where else to go, he's trapped, but those hands that curl around his upper arms are warm, not cold with death, they're warm and strong. The chest he's pulled into is just as warm, it's firm, strong, fingers press his head to the chest, over the heart cavity, and he hears the steady beat of a strong heart pounding away under his ear, the hum of grace under his skin, it's not silent, like it had been when he'd pressed his ear to it before, it alive with sound. "But, you need to calm down first, or you're going to start burning."

"What….But…..How…."

"Calm down first, Mal."

"How can I calm down!" Hasmal pushes against him, but his arms are trapping him, he's caught against his older brother's chest. "You were _dead_!" He pushes harder but he's no match for the older Power's strength. "I _lit_ the torch! I _watched_ you _burn_!" He manages to push away only slightly, still trapped in his brothers arms, but able to look up at him, with wide, shocked eyes. " _How!"_

The Captain sighs. "Father and His Brothers. That was not how my story ended. So, they brought me back."

"They brought…Just like that?"

He nods. "Just like that."

"How _long_!"

Nisroc sighs again. "Maybe a couple of hours. I was taking care of Paul and Sasha, but they're sleeping now, so I came to get a bite to eat."

"So….So, you're back?" Hasmal curls his fingers in the baggy tunic he wears. "You're back for good?"

He nods lightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Hasmal smiles up at him, and he returns the smile in turn, and pushes himself forward. The older angel takes a step back at the sudden surge forward, curling his arms around him in kind, holding him close to him. The younger angel presses himself as close as he can manage, holding onto him as though his life was dependent on it, he feels his skin heat up, and a hand rubs down the back of his head. He loses control when his emotions get the best of him.

"It's okay, Mal, tone it down, simmer it out." He nods, inhaling deeply, letting fingers rubbing at the back of his neck calm him down, and the heat fades. "That's it, firefly."

"Nis, you have to help him!" He pulls away, he's comfortable, he wants those arms to hold him forever, but he's a good little brother. "You have to help Hani!"

"Hani, what's wrong with Hani?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "Nis, you _died_."

"Point, let's get some bowls of stew and we'll go check on him." They'll clean the mess up later, he has things he needs to tend to now, and tend to them he would. Hasmal nods, hanging onto his sleeve as he guides them both forward, reaching for the cupboard above the counter for three bowls, and scoops up a hefty serving of his stew for all three of them. He passes one bowl over to the fire starter, and takes two in his own hands, nodding for him to lead the way.

Hasmal nods, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth as he turns for the hall, humming in delight, he would have missed his brother's cooking. He leads him down the hall towards their room, where Haniel had retreated to after the procession and where he had remained, Hasmal has managed to force him out of bed to bath, he's been able to get him to eat (read: forcing him to eat), but it was getting harder and harder to keep going. He, himself, was exhausted. He was too busy taking care of his older brother to worry about his own dwindling health, he could push through, he always did.

He turns the corner, heading to Haniel's side of the bed, and their older brother clears his throat, bringing him to turn to look at him, Nisroc nods to his side of the bed and holds out one of the bowls. "Go, your side, mister. Don't think I didn't see those bags under your eyes, you climb into your side, I'll take care of him." His firefly nods, crossing around to his side of the bed, climbing in carefully with his two bowls of stew, cradling them in his lap lightly as he makes himself comfortable against his pillows.

Shaking his head fondly, Nisroc steps up to his little fox's side, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. Reaching down with his free hand, he pokes him in the nose lightly. "Hani, wake up, little fox. It's time for supper."

"Mmmm….Not hungry, Nis…" He smiles as the younger Power grows still, eyes shooting open, he jumps up and around, opening his mouth to shout something. He takes that as his opportunity to shove a spoon full of stew into his mouth.

Haniel grunts softly, closing his mouth to chew, staring up at him with wide awed eyes as he swallows his bite of stew. He opens his mouth again, surely to say something, and he narrows his eyes slightly when the spoon is pushed back in.

"Eat first, then we can talk." Nisroc holds up the spoon again, and this time he leans in for the bite, they'd talk once he finished his bowl of stew. "Good, little fox."

Haniel smiles at the praise, and coming from his big brother, the one he thought he'd never hear it from again, and opens his mouth for another bite. He stares at the oldest Power, his Captain, his big brother, with wide eyes, chewing on his mouthful of delicious stew, he doesn't want to take his eyes off of him, what if he does, and he disappears, this is all some sort of cruel trick of the mind.

He holds out the spoon to him. "Open up, little one." He does as he's told and takes the spoonful of stew, chewing it slowly, and swallowing, opening for the next. "I'm really here, baby brother, I'm as real as you are."

The young Power blinks, smiling again, he loved it when it seemed as though his older brother read his mind. It was the best feeling. It meant that he knew him that well to know what was on his mind. He could read him like a book.

"I'm back, baby fox, I'm back and I'm not leaving again." He holds out the spoon full of stew. "Not for a very long time."

"You died, Nis. You left me." He ducks around the next spoonful, and his older brother sighs, lowering it back to the bowl. "You were _gone_."

"I know, little fox, I didn't want to. I fought as hard as I could." He leans over, setting the almost finished bowl of stew on the bedside table, and leans over to rest his elbows on his knees. "I didn't mean to leave you, I would never do so willingly, I'm sorry that I did."

Haniel swallows deeply, huddling against his pillow. "You're really here?" He leans forward slightly. "Here to stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere, baby fox."

The younger Power smiles again, scooting over to the edge of the bed, he pats the spot between him and their little brother, Hasmal looks up midbite and smiles before turning back to his meal. Nisroc smiles at him, shaking his head fondly, and turns, crawling up to settle himself between the two of them. His arm is lifted slightly, the redheaded little fox cuddles up underneath it, and the other littler angel on his other side leans against his arm until he lifts it, letting him sidle up close to rest against his side, completely full, and ready for a nice rest.

He smiles down at them both, hugging them closer, and kisses the top of their heads. "Get some sleep, little ones, I'll be here when you wake up."


	55. Quality Time

He settles into bed with a sigh and a smile, the airs turning crisp, storms are more frequent, and there's nothing like laying back in a warm bed, reading a good book, while the rain beat against the window and lightning lit the sky. He just opened his book, settled in to read the next chapter, when the door to his room flew open. There was a streak, and something damp was sliding up under his book and curling around him, sighing again, he sets his book aside to investigate this mysterious stranger. Pulling down the soaked hood, he stares into familiar baby blue eyes, and raises an eyebrow when they smile up at him.

"Hey, Thaddy."

"Hello, Sasha." He nods towards the window, and as if on cue, lightning lights the sky. "What are you doing running around in that storm."

"Well, Nis is down in the ancient city with Ava and Paul is staying with Puri tonight."

"And, you didn't want to be alone?"

The boy shakes his head, and the Warden sighs again, nodding his head, he gestures to the Wardrobe. "Get changed into something dry, you're soaked to the bone."

"Okay!" Sasha crawls off him, to the edge of the bed, and climbs off. Pulling the wardrobe door open, he picks one of the tunics off a hanger, slips his tunic off, and the dry one over his head. He skips on the trousers, Thaddeus's don't fit him anyway, and turns back for the bed. His _'guardian'_ has resumed to reading his book, and he jets forward, the older angel lifts the edge of the blanket at just the right moment, and he slides in under the blankets. Cuddling around the older angel, he makes himself comfortable, resting against his side. "Thaddy, whatcha readin?"

"A book."

"I can see that!" He pokes him in the side harshly and the Warden jolts. "Don't start something you can't finish, dragonfly."

"What kinda book are you readin?"

"A thriller."

"Will you read it to me until I fall asleep?"

He settles back against his pillow and raises his arm slightly, for the younger angel to climb under, and Sasha slides in next to him, sidling up close to his side, resting his head on his chest, and the arm lowers around him, pulling him close.

"Sure, I'll read to you." He rubs his chin over the side of the boy's temple. "Cuddle on close, I don't want you to get scared."

"I won't get scared!" Still, he cuddles close just to be safe. "I'm fearless."

A loud bolt of thunder rocks the window panes and he gives a soft _'eep'_ and ducks into the Warden's side, the older angel chuckles softly as he turns the page in his book. "Fearless, huh?"

"That doesn't count!" He peeks up at him and Thaddeus smiles, leaning over to kiss the tip of his nose lightly, and he giggles softly. "Thunder is scary, everyone knows that."

"It sure is, cuddle in close," he turns back to his book. "It's going to storm all night."

"It is?" The youngling bites his lip and cuddles closer. "Thaddy, I don't like thunderstorms."

"I know you don't, dragonfly." He pulls him closer. "Cuddle in close and I'll read to you."

…

"Hey, Puri."

The medic jumps slightly, not expecting the voice from behind, and turns to peer around his arm to see who the voice belonged to. He doesn't expect to see his charge standing there, huddling slightly on his bad leg, smiling like the little fool he is.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He turns, planting his hands on his hips, looking him over carefully. "You should be resting that ankle, Paul."

"But, Puriiii, it's boringggg!" He curls his fingers around the medic's upper arm to steady himself from falling over. "All I do is sit there and twiddle my fingers…Everything's out of reach! I can't just sit there!"

"You should," he wags his finger at the boy. "You put too much weight on that ankle, and you could cause permanent damage."

"I know, I know," he rolls his eyes. "You've already said all of that." He tugs at his arm desperately. "I need to be _entertained_ Puri!"

Heaving a sigh, Puriel rolls his eyes fondly, but nods his head. "C'mere then." Hooking his fingers around the boys shoulders, he spins him around, and hooks his fingers under his arms, hefting him from his feet and he ducks slightly to secure him on his shoulders. He curls his fingers under his knees, mindful of his bad ankle, and turns back to his training squadron. "We're starting medic training next; you can be my test dummy."

"Did you just call me a _'dummy'_?"

"I would _never_."

…

"Papa," he looks up at the knock on his door and the sound of his voice, frowning at the congested undertones. "I don't feel good."

Titus stands from his desk chair, after turning it to the side, and crosses to the doorway of his room, reaching up, he presses the back of his right hand to the young guards forehead and frowns again. "You've got a bit of a fever, baby angel." He guides him forward gently, feeling at his cheeks as he does, and leads him over to the big bed under the window. "Have you felt bad for long?"

"Since this morning." Sorath hugs his dolphin closer. "I just thought I ate too much for breakfast."

"Oh, baby angel, I think it's a bit more then that." He pulls the blankets back and guides the younger angel down, under the blankets, and resting against the pillow, he tucks him in gently. "You've caught a bit of a bug."

"Papa, I don't like being sick." Sorath pouts softly. "It makes me feel all bad."

"I know you don't, little angel, but papa will make you feel all better again in no time." The Power guides him back into the pillows and pulls the blankets up to tuck under his chin. "Tell papa what hurts, baby boy."

Sorath nods, coughing softly into his arm. "My belly hurts, papa. And, my throat."

"Just a bit of a cold." He pokes his nose and stands from the edge of the bed, heading for the cupboard over his desk, and rummages through it for a moment before he finds what he's searching for. Pulling a small red bottle out of the cupboard, he picks up a discarded spoon from his desk, and returns to his perch on the edge of the bed. "This will help you feel better so you can sleep."

"Papa, will you sleep with me?"

He measures out a spoonful and holds it to the younger angel's lips, nodding when he opens his mouth to take it. "Papa's got to finish a few lessons, but then he'll come rest with you, okay?"

"Okay, papa."

"Good angel, you just cuddle your dolphin close and close those eyes, you'll be asleep in no time."

Sorath cuddles down, hugging his beloved stuffed dolphin closer, and inhales a stuffy big breath. "I love you, papa."

"Papa loves you too, little angel." He leans in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Papa will join you in a short bit."

"Okay, papa." His eyes flutter. "Papa, when you come, will you rub my belly?"

"Yes I will, little one, go on to sleep now."

The younger angel yawns widely, nuzzling down into the pillow under his head. "Okay…Papa…."


	56. Not Ticklish (Sike)

"Now this just isn't fair."

She giggles at the pouting angel at her feet, leaning back against the table against the far wall, it was funny to see the infamous Warden pouting because he didn't get his way. He wasn't anything like she had imagined him to be, he was much more playful then what she had thought he would be, nicer then she had imagined, he gave her extra supper the other night because hers had gone cold before it had gotten to her.

"You look like a fledgling."

"Yea, yea, laugh it up." He waves away her statement, crossing his arms petulantly, he was dissatisfied with this experience. "You're not being fair."

"I can't help it I'm not ticklish."

He points a finger at her. "Everyone's ticklish _somewhere_."

"Not me."

"I bet your one of those people who are ticklish in some obscure place." He rubs at his chin. "You won't tell me, will you?"

"No."

She giggles when he crosses his arms again, setting his shoulders, and huffs. "Fine. I'll just have to figure it out myself." He rubs at his chin again. "My little dragonfly always hid in the most obvious places, he always said the best hiding spots were in plain sight, because no one expects you to be there." He eyes her carefully. "The most obvious place…."

He steps forward, pushing away from the table, and comes to stand at her side, trailing his finger up her leg. "How about here?" He reaches under her knee with a finger and itches it in, she shrieks, and he raises his free hand in success. "Found it!" He reaches under with his free hand and wiggles his fingers in the soft flesh gently, she shrieks, kicking her leg against its restraint. "I thought you said you weren't ticklish, Laylah."

She squeals when he reaches under both knees and wiggles his fingers into the sensitive flesh, kicking her legs desperately. "Aahahahhahahahahha! Eieieiaaahahahhahahahahaha! Nohohohohoho! Thahahahahhaaddy! Ahahahahhahaha!"

The Warden smiles happily as he looks up at her. "This is much better." He reaches down to undo the straps from around her ankles, gathering them both in one of his hands, he hops up to sit on the table, letting his legs dangle over the side, he pulls her legs down over his lap, and wiggles his fingers back under her left knee. She squeals again, kicking her legs desperately, thinking she could free them without the straps keeping her in place, but the older angel has them well trapped over his lap. "I can't believe you wouldn't tell me." He switches to her right knee. "I mean, I thought we were friends, Lay."

"Eieieehaahahhahahhhaha! Thahahahhahaadddyyy! Lehehehehhet gohohohoo! Ahahahhahahhahaha! Ehehehehheahaahahahaha! Plehehehhehehaaahahahhahahase!"

"I don't think I should." He kicks his legs lightly. "You wanted me to have a bad time, didn't you? You liked watching me suffer." She squeals every time he jumps between her knees. "I should turn you over and blow as many berries as I can on the backs of these knees. Let that teach you to keep me waiting."

Laylah's eyes widen and she shrieks, shaking her head frantically, she knows he's not above doing just that. "I'm sohohohohooorry! Nohhohohohoho! Ahahahahahhaha eieieaihahahahahahhaha! Plehehehehhahaahhahahahahahase!"

Thaddeus seems to think on it, making a show of it, rubbing at his beard as though thinking it through. He nods lightly, leaning over her. "Give me a kiss, Lay?"

She giggles lightly, sitting up as much as she can, pecking him on the cheek.

"Oh, you're lucky I'm such a softie." He reaches over her head to undo the straps and gathers her up in his arms and drops off the table, she giggles breathlessly, resting her head on his shoulder. "You want to take a nap?"

She nods lightly. "Yes, please."

He presses a kiss to the side of her head. "Anything for a friend, Lay."


	57. Saving Grace

He sees the knife before the older angel does, walking away from them, the cell lock slipped free and the angel within jumped forward with their concealed weapon, aiming it at the Warden's turned back. He watches the arc, he times it, and his training kicks in, this is _his_ Warden, that's _his_ Thaddy, he almost (technically _had_ ) lost one of his guardians, he wasn't losing another, and he jumps forward.

Thaddeus grunts as he's shoved to the side harshly, crashing into the bars of the cell he was beside, the prisoner within yelps and jumps back, gasping at the sight of the youngling struggling with the massive hulking P.O.W coming after his keeper, grappling with the youngling who had shoved the Warden out of the way.

Sasha hisses as the blade slices the pads of his fingers and his palms, his fingers curled tightly around the long blade, it was becoming rather difficult, with his blood slicking the blade up, he pushes all his strength into it as the cell behind him rattles, Thaddeus having crashed into it when he shoved him out of the way, keeping the mass of an enemy at bay.

The Warden looks up at the prisoners gasp, following his pointing finger, and spins around to confront someone for shoving him. His eyes widen at the sight that awaits him and he jumps forward, bumping into the cadet as he does, they're too close for him to use his whip, he runs the risk of hitting his boy if he does, they're much too close. He winces as Sasha cries out when the larger angel tugs his blade free, slicing his hands up as he does, and aims it at the Warden pressing to his back. Thaddeus's eyes widen as the blade comes down quickly, already preparing to curl himself around the smaller angel in front of him, to protect him from the oncoming threat, but Sasha stops him, elbowing him in the gut harshly, he wheezes, bending slightly, watching in horror as the youngling throws his hands up and the blade pierces through his palms, all the way through, the hilt coming to rest against his palm. He curls his fingers around the hilt and yanks the blade away, the blood slicks the hilt, and it slides from the other's hand, and he reels back, his captive hands clenched together and dripping blood, and swings them around, knocking the bigger angel over the side of the head hard enough to send him stumbling into the cell next to them.

It's an empty cell, the doors unlocked, and he falls through as it swings open from the impact, tumbling to the stone floor in a mass of uncoordinated limbs.

Thaddeus jumps forward, curling around the smaller angel as he curls in on himself, adrenaline fading, breathing a shaky whine as the pain of his savaged hands begins to hit him, steadying his shaking hands, holding most of his weight as he practically collapses from the building shock at what had just happened, taking note of the approaching noise, no doubt the scuffle had attracted attention.

Boots pound the stone floor towards them, and he looks up quickly, barking orders at them. "Seize him! Search him for weapons!" The guards nod quickly, gathering in the cell to heft their newest intake to his feet, dragging the dazed angel from the cell, they bind his wrists and one of them begin the task of patting him down thoroughly. "Take him to solitary! I want him under lock down until _I_ say otherwise!"

Upon finding nothing more, they drag him away, he goes easily, he's dazed from the harsh blow to the head from the youngling.

He turns his attention back to the angel he's curled around at the sharp wheeze that escapes him, and he tightens his hold around him. "Easy, easy, it's okay, you little _idiot_." Sasha gags violently and he huffs as he hefts him up, it jostles his hands and he shrieks before gagging again, but he has to get him out of this cramped hall in order to treat him properly, and he rushes him down the hall and around the corner, around two more, down two more halls, and into his office.

Forgoing closing the door, he sets the youth down on the cot, reaching for the waste basket beside his desk, he slides it under the younger angel as he finally gags hard enough to vomit, spewing breakfast and stomach acid into the waste basket, he scrunches his nose at the smell but leans forward to rub at the back of his neck comfortingly as he gags again and vomits into the waste basket once more, frowning at the clamminess of his skin, he's going into shock.

Sasha vomits approximately four times before his stomach is empty and he begins to curl inwards again, instinctively trying to protect his hands from the world around them, yelping with the point of the knife pokes into his thigh when it presses down too hard.

"Easy, easy, I need you to hold your hands up." He takes charge in that moment, Thaddeus orders him to hold his hands up, positioning them in a safe position to keep from further damage, and guides him around to lay on the cot, he slides the spare pillow under his knees to elevate his legs and tucks the blanket around him, under his raised hands, and moves away from his side for a brief moment to gather the supplies he needs.

Supplies in hand, he wheels his chair out from behind his desk, and returns to his charge's side. Setting his things down on the bottom edge of the cot, he reaches in the box for thick strips of gauze, to soak up the blood when he pulls the knife out, once that's removed, he can begin to tend to his wounds more accurately. He's no healer, but he could have been a medic if he hadn't become the Warden, he knows what he's doing.

Sasha breathes frantically as he watches him, meeting his eyes when he turns to look down at him, his face reddened, feverish, sweat beading over his forehead. "I'm going to pull the knife out, ready?" He only just jerks a nod and the Warden yanks the knife out swiftly, dropping it beside his foot on the floor, curling his hands around the smaller ones, applying pressure to the numerous wounds that litter them. Sasha cries out as he does, instinctively trying to pull his wounded hands back, but he holds them firm, reaching down with one of his hands to pull a thick tarp over his chest, covering the boy with it, as to not soil the blankets and the bedding as he cleans him up.

He sets his hands down to rest on his stomach lightly, over the thick tarp, and reaches into box again, for antiseptic water. The older angel uncaps the top, and looks down at the boy, his breathing is starting to steady, but his eyes are still bugging slightly, they're in a safe zone now, but he's still on the edge of returning to a shock like state. "I'm going to rinse your hands off, and clean them up a bit, I won't lie to your dragonfly, it's going to burn."

The boy whines softly but nods, and he takes that as his permission, slipping a thick absorbent towel under his hands, laying palms up, and leans over to pour the solution over his hands. He shrieks, yanking his hands away, shivering in pain. Setting the bottle aside, he treats him like one would a skittish animal, reaching out slowly. "It's okay, dragonfly, I know it hurts, I know it does, but we need to get you cleaned up." Sasha shakes his head frantically, pulling his hands closer, and Thaddeus sighs. "I need your hands, dragonfly, I'm almost done. I promise. Can you be brave for me?" He shakes his head again, and sighing once more, the Warden nods, standing from his chair lightly and crossing to the closet built into the wall. Reaching inside, he pulls out his cloak, shakes it out, and turns to return to his chair. Pulling the tarp back slightly, he tucks his cloak over the shivering little angel, tucking it up over his lips, so he can catch his scent in it. "Here, you smell that. It smells like me, doesn't it?"

Sasha nods, sniffing softly, and nods again.

"It's going to protect you, okay?" He nods again. "I'm right here with you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I need you to give me your hands, dragonfly, I need to get them fixed up."

Sasha shakes his head again.

"Take another sniff of that cloak." He sniffs in deeply, taking in the Warden's scent. "It smells like me, right?" He nods again. "It's nice and warm, too?" He nods once more. "It feels like it's me holding you, doesn't it?" The boy nods once again. "You cuddle into that cloak while I tend to your hands, alright, and then I'll hold you real tight, okay?"

This time, the boy nods, hesitantly, but he nods, and slowly his abused hands slide back down over his belly.

Thaddeus pulls the tarp back up, tucking the cloak around him firmly, and reaches to pick the bottle of antiseptic solution back up. He returns to pouring it over the shredded hands, and the boy shrieks again, his hands flinch violently, but he refrains from pulling them back, biting into the scruff of the cloak curled around him. Once the blood is cleared away, he sets aside the soiled rag he used to mop it up, he takes in the damage. His hands are shredded, as one would expect them to be, curling his fingers around the blade like he had, and then fighting over it, there's a clean slice going through both palms, completely through. He turns the hands over, one by one, holding them up with one of his while he dabs at the hole on the back side of his hand.

Humming to himself, he sets the rag aside, and reaches into the box again, for a small kit. He unzips it and rests it in his lap, pulling a syringe out, he uncaps the needle and taps the side of the vial. Local anesthetic, for when he stitches up the hole through his hands, he sticks it into the palms first, recaps the needle, exchanges it for a threaded needle, and waits a few moments for it to set in.

Sasha whines at the sight of it, a tear slipping from his eye, the first tear since this whole debacle began. "You'll only feel a slight tug, I numbed it for you, you'll only feel a slight tug, maybe a small pinching."

He pulls the left hand forward first, closer, so he can see what he's doing, and begins his stitching while the anesthetic is still in effect. Sasha watches him, wheezing through his stuffy nose, mesmerized by it as he stitches up the hole, starting with the left and ending with the right, both sides, it takes sixteen stitches in total, eight for both hands, four for front and back.

When he's done with that, the Warden finishes with the bandages, wrapping them firmly around his hands and fingers, immobilizing them, and wraps them up all nice and snug, in thick long bandage wraps.

"Alright, the hard parts all done, you were very good." He reaches up to rub his thumb over the boy's cheek. "Very brave, dragonfly." He reaches back into the kit for another syringe. "Now all that's left is some pain relief, it's long lasting, we'll do this a few times for the next couple of days until the pain starts to subside on it's own." Sasha whines again, as he straightens out his arm and sticks the needle in, pumping the pain-relieving agent into his vein. True to his word, it works quick, the pain dulls to a smarting throb which dulls into numbness.

Thaddeus cleans his mess up and shoves the box under the cot with his foot, leaning forward on his knees. "Are you feeling sick, still?"

The boy shakes his head.

"Do you want a drink of water?"

He nods, and the Warden turns, sliding over to his desk for the jug and a glass, and slides back over, filling the cup halfway, setting the pitcher at his feet, and leans forward with the glass. He lifts the back of his head lightly, easing him up slightly, and holds the glass up to his lips. Sasha sips it slowly, and there's no rush, he can move at his own pace.

"I'm going to move you somewhere more comfortable, okay?"

Sasha nods again, and he set the glass down next to the pitcher and leans forward, sliding an arm under his knees and the other around his shoulders, and he lifts him from the cot, careful not to knock his cloak off. He carries him out of his office and around the corner, to the stairs, and up to his quarters above them. The boy dozes off slightly on his shoulder, his bulky hands curled inwards slightly, against his chest.

He closes the door behind him, after entering, with his heel, and crosses the room to set the boy down on his bed. Tucking him in gently, he crosses over to stoke the fire up again, snow piling up outside his window, before returning to his side, sitting on the edge of his bed, he strokes a knuckle over his cheek.

"What you did was extremely foolish." He smiles rubbing his cheek still. "But I really thank you for it."

"C'ldn' let 'im g't 'ou." He stumbles over his words, the medicine he gave him is making him quite drowsy, he blinks lightly, his eyes fluttering. "C'n't lose 'ou 'oo."

"Oh, dragonfly," he sighs sadly, stroking a finger down the bridge of his nose, nodding in understanding. "I'm quite hard to get rid of. I'm not going anywhere any time soon." It was true, this wouldn't have been the first prisoner to have stabbed him in the back, there's been a number, he's built tough, as such a job requires, he houses a number of quite dangerous beings. "Rest assured, I'm not going to leave you so easily."

"Y'o di' on'e."

He frowns lightly, that much was true, he had left him once. Not by his own volition, but it had happened, and here he was now working to make up for that. "And, it's something that will never happen again." He rubs over his cheek again, this time with his finger, and smiles down at him. "Like I said, I do thank you for what you did, but don't you _ever_ do it again. I can take a few stab wounds. I'm built tough. You, you should not have to."

"Do a'ain."

"No, you will not." He caresses his cheek lightly, stroking it with his thumb. "Not while I'm around, and most certainly not when Nis finds out."

"D'n't t'll p'pa."

"Oh, I'm going to have to tell him, if someone else hasn't already."

Sasha yawns widely, rubbing at his eyes with his bulky bandaged hands, and he smiles at the sight.

"You get some sleep; I'll wake you up in a bit for some supper."

"S'ee'y."

"I know you are, get some sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."

He rests for about an hour, sighing in content when the Warden finally toes his boots off and climbs in beside him, pulling him close to rest against him, and he settles down to read a book over his head as the young angel curls around him in his sleep. Someone knocking at his door interrupts the silence, and he calls out softly for them to enter, the door's pushed open slightly and a head pokes in.

A long braid hanging over his shoulder, Nisroc appears there, he smiles at him, he knew someone would have told the Power about his charge. He smiles at him in greeting, stepping in quick in order for him to close the door, not wanting to let the heat out. He frowns at the sight of his boy's hands, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed, Thaddeus closes his book to take the two bowls he holds out to him, watching silently as he reaches out for one of his small hands.

"What happened to the one responsible?" Nisroc raises the hand up, pressing his lips to the back of it, over the bandages.

Thaddeus, having set the bowls down in his lap, strokes his fingers through the young angel's curls. "In Solitary. Where he'll stay."

The Power nods firmly, setting the hand back over the Warden's chest carefully. "Good." He nods to the two bowls. "Stew. Nothing better on a cold winter's night."

"Oh boy, thanks," he uncovers one of the bowls and lifts it to sniff lightly. "I love your stew." He passes him the second bowl. "Let's wake him up, he hasn't eaten since breakfast this morning. Be mindful with how much you feed him, though he hasn't since, he did get sick earlier today."

"Noted." The Captain sets the bowl next to him and reaches out, stroking the boy's cheek lightly, Sasha's face scrunches up slightly and he nuzzles deeper into the Warden's side lightly. "Doodlebug, wake up, papa's here."

His nose scrunches up again and he turns slightly, eyes fluttering open softly. "Mmm…papa…."

Nisroc smiles at him, rubbing his cheek again. "That's right, papa's here, I heard you had a bit of a rough day."

"Mhmm…h'nds….."

"So I heard," he pokes him on the nose lightly. "What you did was very foolish but also very commendable. I'm proud, but don't you ever do it again."

Sasha nods lightly. "T'ddy sa'd no-no."

"That's right." He lifts the bowl up for him to see. "I brought you some supper." The boy eyes the bowl carefully. "I made stew." And, he chuckles when he opens his mouth expectantly. Pulling the cover off, he picks up a small spoonful and slides it into his open mouth. He hums in delight, chewing softly at his mouthful, and swallows, before opening his mouth again.

He finishes the bowl in about twenty minutes, he's still half asleep, and cuddles back down into the Warden's side when he's full, dozing off again, sound asleep in minutes.

Thaddeus smiles down at him, passing his empty bowl to the Captain on the edge od his bed, and pets his fingers through the boys curls again. "I'll watch over him."

"I know you will." Nisroc leans in, kissing the boy on the head, and then leans in even more, kissing the Warden on the side of the head. "I have two guards posted outside your door, just in case, I'm not taking any chances."

He nods in understanding. "Good, I've made some changes to the Solitary Block, it's under lock and key, only one way in and one way out."

"Good." He stands, intending to let them alone for the rest of the night, he knew his boy was in good hands, the youth with the Warden, and the Warden with the guards. "If I ever see him, I'm going to rip him to pieces."

"Then I'll make sure you never see him, mama bear."

"Call me _'mama bear'_ again," he points at him warningly. "And, I'll show you a _'mama bear'_."


	58. Making It All Better

"Alright, left leg in." He grumbles as the Power helps him into his trousers, seated on the edge of the Warden's bed, he hadn't left Thaddeus's side since that day, a week ago, as though to guard him from any other possible attacks. Neither elders minded, Nisroc showed up every morning with a change of close and his boots, and he slept in one of Thaddeus's tunics at night, cuddled under his cloak, curled around him, wrapped up in his arms.

They knew there was also a secondary reason to his clinginess towards the Warden, the poor boy had lost both of his guardians, one at the hands of a monster who turned him into a monster and the other to the end of an enemy's sword. He'd lost so much in his short life, faced so much, and he came out of it seemingly in one piece, but this, this seemed to be the tipping point, he didn't come out of this one in one piece. This time he had enough, his mind came up with the conclusion that if he was there, glued to their side, he could prevent them from being taken again.

Thaddy's memory was still fuzzy passed certain points, though it was slowly coming back to him, but Sasha remembered. That wasn't the first attempt on the Warden's life, the first time someone had tried to attack him, he remembered being a small fledgling, curled around him carefully in one of the Infirmary beds after one of the prisoners had managed to overpower the Warden, which was no easy feat in itself, Thaddy was as tough as they came, he was like papa in that way, but he remembers the close calls, he remembers the times that it got just a bit too close to something major, just an inch or two closer and it would have been fatal. He had been really young, but he remembers, he remembers being carried in the Healer's arms as the Warden lay as still as death in one of the beds, being set down to lay beside him when it was time for bed, he remember holding his hand, clutching it to his chest, crying softly, begging him to be okay and to wake up and come back and play with him. He remembers the way he used to sob when his guardian, his Taddy, would open his eyes and promise him that everything would be okay, he remembers climbing up onto his chest, despite the pain it must have caused him for him to do so, because the Warden wanted to comfort the tears away and hold him close. He remembers seeing the scars that marred his chest and back, the red lines, the stitches keeping the skin closed together, he remembers it all. He remembers the close calls, almost losing him, sitting tearfully on the bed next to him as the healers worked frantically to save him, being guided away so he didn't have to watch him lay there, on the edge of life and death, choking on his own blood, he remembers sobbing into the Healer's shoulder, watching over his shoulder anyway, despite his attempts to keep it from him, as they pumped Taddy's chest. He remembers it all, every last piece, it will never leave him, never, it was stained deeply in his memory.

He'd had a guard escort when he was young, he wasn't allowed to wander alone, because although the cells were secure for the most part, nothing was perfect, they had those who managed to get themselves free who shouldn't be, and he was to be protected at all costs, so he'd had a guard with him at all times, being raised in the Prison, it was a dangerous place for a fledgling, but Taddy made it safe for him, he did his best, no one ever got close enough to him to touch him. The guard who watched over him had been a part of the elite force, the ones that broke up the fights that broke out and did the extractions, who took charge over those in Solitary, he'd been trained by Titus himself, being trained by a _Power_ directly gave you a certain advantage in skill set, he was a top fighter, could handle himself well, and took caution when he was wandering around with the Warden's fledgling. He stayed with him until he returned to the Warden's side at day's end.

"Good, good," he holds open the other pant leg. "Right leg now."

Sasha huffs again as he steps into the pant leg, standing carefully to allow the Captain to pull his trousers up and button them in place, and then falls back to sit on the edge of the bed, grumbling to himself, he turns away from them, curling back into the pillow. He'd been grumbling and pouting since the pain had faded to a dull throb, only when his hands were jostled too much, because he couldn't do anything on his own with his hands wrapped up in thick bulky bandages.

He hears a soft chuckling from the desk just a few paces away, and turns to glare at the Warden over his shoulder, he winks at him in amusement and turns to the Power, who's holding his tunic up, ready to help him into it.

"I think we should hold off on the tunic."

Nisroc turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Thaddy, it's the middle of winter, he can't wander around shirtless, he'll catch a cold."

"He'll be fine in here shirtless, it's nice and toasty." Thaddeus waves away the statement. "I _think_ there's something more important to tend to."

The Power sighs, folding the tunic up slightly and tossing it to rest on the cleared desk top, he was right, so long as he stayed in here, he was fine to go topless. "Oh, and what might that be?"

"I think our dear boy needs to be cheered up." The Warden turns his attention back to the boy in question, meeting his eyes, he smiles at him mischievously. "He's been all grumbly and pouty all week. I think we should do something about that."

Nisroc smiles, turning to look back at his youngest charge, Sasha looks between the two of the carefully, not sure if he's liking the way they're looking at him like that. "I agree, Thaddy, I think our boy _does_ need cheered up."

The Warden nods lightly, pushing himself to his feet, and they close in on him. Sasha scoots away, towards the other end of the bed, as they approach him, but fingers catch him by the ankles and tug him back, securing him in the middle, they climb up on either side. Nis to his left, Thaddy to his right, and come to rest beside him. He looks between them cautiously, trapped between a rock and a hard place, he smiles slightly. "I—I'm okay."

"I don't think you are."

"I must agree."

He gulps lightly. "I—It's fine, r—really."

Thaddeus smiles down at him, shaking his head lightly. "I don't think so." He looks up at the Power across from him. "Nis, can you think of any way we can cheer our little guy up."

The Power rubs at his beard lightly, as though deep in thought, and nods playfully. "I can think of a few ways, let's start with the first," he curls his fingers around his wrist carefully, mindful of his hand, and slowly lifts his arm above his head, Thaddy smiles and follows suit. "Oh, what have we here?" They both look down at his bare armpits with interest. Thaddy pokes a finger into his armpit and the boy _'eeps'_ and bites his lip to keep his giggles back. "I believe this is called a _'happy button'_."

"Oh, a _'happy button'_ you say, tell me Thaddy," Sasha turns to look at his papa, eyes wide, they're playing with him, he knows they are, having a conversation like this above his head, with him in this position. "How does such a thing work?"

"Oh, very good question, my dearest friend, let me show you how such a thing works. Let me dust it off first, clean it up a bit." He flutters his fingers over his right armpit, and the boy shrieks, tugging at his arm desperately, laughing freely, twisting up onto his left side as much as he can. "Ahahahahhaaahahhahaha! Tahahahahhahaaddyyyy! Hahahahahahhahahaha!" Thaddeus wiggles a finger into the hollow of his armpit, and he shrieks again. "Oh, there's a particularly stubborn spot, let me get it."

"Yes, yes, we can't have a dirty happy button, be sure to get that spot."

"I'm working on it, it's being particularly stubborn, give me a moment."

"Take your time, there's no rush, I have nowhere to be."

The Warden nods in appreciation. "I've just about got it."

Sasha shakes his head, trying to twist away from him, papa chuckles softly and pushes him back down with his free hand pressed against his chest. "Ahahahahhahahahahhaha hahahahhahahahahaha! Thahahahhahaaddyyy! Ahahahahahahhahahaha! Gehehehehheet ohohohhooouuhuhhuhuhut! Ahahahahahahahaha hehehhehahahahahha!"

"Okay, I got it, all clean." He smiles up at the Power. "Now, let me show you how this _'happy button'_ works." He pokes his finger into his armpit and the boy ' _eeps'_ brightly with every poke. "You just have to poke it, like this."

Nisroc hums. "Oh, I think I like this _'happy button'_." He reaches up with his free hand. "Let me give it a try."

Thaddeus nods, pulling his finger away after one final poke. "Of course, be sure to dust it off, it's mighty dirty."

"Of course," he flutters his fingers over his left armpit, and the boy shrieks again, bright and happy, the grumbles and pout completely forgotten. "I must clean it off."

"Aahahahahahahhaahaaa! Pahahahhaahapapahahahahhaha! Nohohohohoho! Ahahahhahaha hahahahahahhaa! Ahahahahhaa hahahahhahaha!"

"Oh, there's a spot here too." Sasha shrieks brightly when he wiggles a finger into the hollow of his left armpit. "Let me get it."

"Eieieiehahahahahahhha! Pahahahhhaapapahahahhahaha! Ahahahahahahahha ahahahahahahahha!"

"Almost got it, just a bit more."

"Nohohhohoho mohhohohohore! Ahahahahhahah hahahahhaaha! Gehehehhet ihihihihiit ohohohhoohuhuhuhuut! Ahahhahhahhaha hahahahahhahaha!"

"Thaddy, I've got a grand idea," he looks up at the Warden, speaking over the youngling's laughter, and the younger angel turns to look at him curiously. "Why don't we push the _'happy button'_ together?"

"Oh, Nis, what a wonderful idea, should we clean them off again?"

He nods. "Perhaps, they may have gotten dusty again."

"Very true, very true."

The both position their fingers over his armpits, and he looks between the two of them frantically, he doesn't think he likes where this is going, they smile down at him, then to each other, and begin fluttering their fingers over his armpits. He squeals brightly, kicking his legs desperately, they chuckle softly, curling a leg over his, holding him in place. "Eieieieieaeaahahahahhahahahahah! EIeieihaahahahhaha! Nohohhohohoho! Ahhahahahhahahahha! Eieiiaiahahahahahahhahaa! Stohohohhoohop! Nohohohohooohot thahahhahahahat! Nohohohohot fluuhuhuhuhutters! Aaahahahhahahahaha!"

"Oh know, that spots back." They both wiggle a finger into the hollows of his armpits, and he shrieks again, throwing his head back in mad laughter, tugging weakly at his arms above his head. "We need to scratch it off again."

"Ahahahaha hahahahhahahahaha ahahahahahahhahaa! Noohohohohohohohoo ahahhahahahhahahha! No! Stohhhohoohohohoop! Hahahahhahahahhaha! Nohohohohohot thahahahahaahahahahat! Ahahahahahahhahaha! Paahahahahahahappapahahahahhaha! Thahhaahahahahhaadddyyy! Ahhahahahahahhaha stohohhohohohooopppp!"

"I think we got it," they pull their fingers away slightly as they make a show of checking, and he inhales frantically, his chest heaving from the attack. "Now, we can poke our _'happy buttons'."_ They both poke into his armpits and he shrieks, squeaking with each poke, twisting and squirming from side to side, trying to evade them, to no avail.

"Eieieieieieie! Ahahahahahhahahaha! Eheheheheheheee! Eieieieieieeee! Ahaahahhahaha! Nohohhohohoho! Noohohohohoh pohohhohohooking! Ahahahahhahahhahaa! Eieieieieieie! Hehehehehehee!"

"Oh, look at them go," Thaddeus wiggles his finger a bit. "The _'happy button'_ really works."

Nisroc pulls away. "I want to see what happens when I blow on my _'happy button'_."

"Oh, good idea," the Warden looks up at the Captain. "Together?"

He nods. "Together."

Sasha's eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically, he knows all about those, those are their favorite things. It kills him every single time. "No! No! Not those! Nohoho! Get away! Stay away! Nooohohoho!"

They both duck down, take a deep breath, and bury their faces into his armpits. He holds his breath in anticipation, giggles pouring over his clenched lips, looking between both of them frantically. His eyes are wide as he looks between them, shaking his head, not those, anything but those.

Then they blow.

"EIEEIIEIAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAHAHHAHA! NOOHHOHOHOT THOOOSE!"

"Oh, wow, that is something, let's test that again."

They take another deep breath.

"NO! EIEIEIIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHA! STOHHOHOHOOOP! NOHOHOHOHOHOOO! EEIEIEIHAHAAHAHAHHHAHAHA! EEIAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! THAHAHAHHAHAHAADDYYY! PAHAHAHAAPPAPAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Oh, Nis," Thaddeus pulls away from his armpit. "I think I like blowing on the button more then poking it."

Papa pulls back next. "I think I do too. But there's another _'happy button'_ that I know of, do you want me to show you?"

"Why, sure, it would be an honor, Nis."

"Of course, my dearest Thaddy, it's right down here." He slides down, letting go of the boy's wrist, and he breaths a sigh of relief when he does, and immediately takes it back when he settles down against his side. "Oh, look at this, it's a bit dusty too, let me clear it up a bit." He wiggles his fingers into the boy's side and he shrieks again, twisting up onto his side, Thaddeus smiles down at him, chuckling lightly, and pushes him down gently with a hand pressed to his chest. "Almost done." He wiggles his fingers up and down his side, and the boy rocks from side to side, as best as he can with Thaddy's hand pressed to his chest. "There we go, all better now. This button you have to blow on for it to work."

"Oh, really," Thaddeus slides down too. "Care to give me a demonstration?"

"Why, I would love to, just like this." He takes a deep breath, tilts his head, and buries his face in the younglings side. Sasha takes a deep breath, waiting on a fine edge, the anticipation is killing him, papa and Thaddy are monsters. "EEIIAAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA! PAHAHAHAHHAHAAPAPAAHAHAHHAHHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHA AIEIEIEIEAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! NOHHOHOHOOHOOOO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EEIEIAAAIAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHA!"

"Oh, I like this new button, let me give mine a try." Thaddeus leans down towards his side, takes a deep breath, and buries his face in. The boy giggles frantically in anticipation, he can't use his hands to push against them, so he finds something else to do with them, curling them into his chest as he giggles hysterically. He waits tensely, any moment, it will come any moment. "EIEIIEAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA! THAHAHAHAHHAHAADDYYYYY! AHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! NOHOHHOHOHOHO! AHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHHAHAHAHAHA! EEIEIEIAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHHAAAA! DAAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAADDDAAAAHHAHAHAHAHHADDYHYHYHYYYYY! DADDY!"

Thaddy pulls away, leaning up to stare at him, and he giggles breathlessly, Nisroc smiles at them, resting his chin on his palm, just watching them have their moment. "Did you…. Did you just call me _'daddy'_?"

Sasha giggles breathlessly, smiling up at him, and the Warden smiles back, absolutely beaming, and leans in to press a kiss to his cheek, then to his forehead. "I think he's cheered up, Nis."

"I agree, I think we've cheered him up rather nicely." He leans up slightly, whispering something in the boy's ear, Thaddeus watches them with a raised eyebrow, leaning on his elbow. Sasha giggles softly and nods, curling over on his left side, his hands tucked safely against his chest, giggling softly as Nisroc leans over him, yanking the Warden across his side, Thaddeus yelps as he's yanked over. "I think my other boy needs some cheering up."

"What! No, I don't!" He rolls over the boy between them, landing over top the Captain's chest, and squirms to try and get himself released from his ironclad grip. "I'm in a great mood!"

"I don't think so." Nisroc curls around him, his arms winding around his middle tightly, and leans in close. "Don't worry, Nissy can help."

"But I don't need help! No! Wait! Wahahahahaait!" He shrieks when the Power buries his face into the side of his neck, nibbling in gently, rubbing his beard in, and fingers begin to assault his ribs. He scrambles, cackling madly, kicking out and pushing at the Power's grip around him. "Nihihihhihihihis! Nohhohoho! Ahahahahahahhahaha! Stoohhohohohhoop! Ahahahahahaahahaaha!" He spreads out, pushing upwards with his hands and feet, and the Captain's arms move, his fingers curling around his hips and they squeeze in, the younger angel in his captivity shrieks loudly and drops, shimmying this way and that, trying to knock the fingers off, he doesn't succeed, and he cackles with laughter, his feet kicking once more.

Sasha giggles softly as he watches the Warden get a small taste of his own medicine, it's not often he gets what he gives out, but Nis will take anyone he wants. He just watches for a moment, letting it happen, and gives it about five minutes, before he tugs on the side of the Captain's tunic. He pulls his face out of the Warden's neck and turns to look down at him, the angel in his arms falls limp, giggling breathlessly still, laying flat against him, his head pressing against the crook of his shoulder.

"Yes, little one?"

"Papa, can we cuddle now?" He smiles up at him sweetly. "You, me, and daddy?"

"Sure, we can, baby boy." He presses a kiss on the side of the Warden's head and sits up, depositing him on the boy's other side, Thaddeus giggles softly, still, and curls around the boy's side, curling his arms around his waist, pulling him against him. Sasha smiles lightly, tucking his head under his chin, turning on his side, he presses the back of his head against the Warden's chest. He reaches out with his bandaged hands for his papa, and Nisroc gives him his right hand, having turned on his side, facing him, and allows him to curl his hand up against his chest, he rubs his pointer finger up over the curve of his jaw as the boy tucks his hand up under his chin.

"We know it frustrates you, little one, not being able to do anything on your own." He rubs a finger up under the boy's chin. "But you can't do too much with your hands until they've healed."

Sasha looks away, down to the blankets, his bare chest. "I know, papa…... I just don't want to be a burden to you and daddy."

Thaddeus kisses the side of his head lightly. "You could never be a burden, dragonfly, we don't mind taking care of you." He rubs his nose behind his ear lightly. "I missed out on so much while you were young, taking care of you now, it's like I'm getting a second chance to do it all over again."

He turns to look up at him, and his daddy smiles down at him, rubbing their noses together. "You mean it?"

The Warden nods. "I do. I love taking care of you. You're my little dragonfly." He rubs their noses together again. "You could never be a burden to me."

He turns to the Power. "You too, papa?"

"Me too, baby boy." He rubs under his chin again. "You could never be a burden to me."

Sasha smiles at him, he returns it in kind, and cuddles back against the Warden, pulling the Power closer by the hand. "I love you, papa." He turns his head slightly. "I love you, daddy."

Thaddeus kisses the back of his head lightly. "I love you too, dragonfly."

Nisroc leans forward and kisses his forehead tenderly. "I love you too, doodlebug." He leans back again. "Take your nap, we'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Cross my heart."

Thaddy reaches down, pulling the blanket up over them, the room may be nice and toasty, but it was still winter, they didn't want their boy getting a cold. "Go to sleep, dragonfly, you could use a nap."


	59. Stealing The Feather

"Oh, just you wait until I catch you!"

He laughs as he turns the corner, skidding around, he almost slides into the open cell across from him, but he catches himself and continues on his journey. He can hear the heavy bootsteps coming up behind him, slowly, it draws closer and closer, and he laughs again, throwing open a cell door to try and delay his pursuer. He hears them curse softly and the cell door get thrown shut, it bangs and rattles, and the chase is back on.

Chancing a glance over his shoulder, he laughs giddily at the distance that seems to be shrinking with every passing moment and pushes himself to run faster.

The Prison is a maze, and in order to get your way around, you had to know the maze and how it worked. Luckily, he was raised here, he knows the maze like he knows the back of his hand. But so, does his pursuer.

He curls his fingers around another corner and throws himself forward, stumbling a bit as he does, almost losing his footing, but he catches himself once more and continues on.

Chancing another glance, his eyebrows furrow when he doesn't spot them, they've disappeared, they were right there a minute ago.

He turns back around and his eyes widen at the sight of the smug smirk, the older angel bends slightly, and because of the sudden change, he doesn't have time to stop himself, not really, he stops his feet, but he slides forward from the momentum, and because of his positioning, he falls over the older angel's shoulder. They stand again, back to their full height, and he watches as the floor seemingly leaves him by miles.

"Bad." A large hand smacks him playfully on the rear as they walk forward. "Taking what doesn't belong to you. Bad, bad Sasha." He squirms slightly, smiling as he looks down to the long sleek feather, he has the fingers of his right hand curled around. The hand smacks his bottom again and he giggles softly. The hand travels down to his thigh and the fingers wiggle in slightly, he shrieks softly and jolts, trying to kick his leg out of their reach. "Now I have to punish you, taking time out of my busy day, the nerve of the young angels these days."

"You weren't busy!"

"I was busy if I say I was busy!" Those fingers wiggle in again and he shrieks again, bracing his hands against the older angel's back.

It had been some time since he'd last heard his laughter ringing through these halls, it used to be a common occurrence and then things changed, and the only thing he heard after that was silence. Nothing but silence. But here it was again, just as beautiful as it was before, a sound that was prettier then any of the voices of the Choir, the sound of laughter, real music, to his ears at least. He never thought he'd get to play with his young ward again, after everything they had been through, Nisroc had replaced him, it had come as a surprise to him when he'd found that his youngest boy had been left in his custody in the event of his untimely demise, he must have just changed those arrangements, there was no way that's how it was before they found out what had been done.

It warmed his heart.

"Thaddy, I can't believe you still have this thing."

"Of course, I do. It's my most prized possession." Sasha tugs at the back of the Warden's tunic lightly. "After you, of course, after you."

"Don't lie to me, Thaddy, I come second fiddle to a feather. If you had to pick between it and me, I bet you'd go for the feather."

"Oh, don't be like that." He pats his thigh lightly, and then a finger scratches at the underside of his knee lightly, he yelps and kicks his leg as best as he can. "You know I'd pick you. I love my feather. But I love you more." He reaches back up and fingers wiggle in his thigh again. "Besides, I don't need the feather to torture you."

"Thahahhaaddy!"

"There it is! That's what I missed the most!" He hums happily, turning his fingers inwards. "Music to my ears."

He stops before the three entrances. "Should we take this to the chamber or to the bed?"

"I don't like the chamber."

"Alrighty," Sasha watches from his hanging position as they take the first stair, and then the next, heading up to the Warden's quarters. "To the bed we go."

He looks over as he kicks open the door, and then up, his eyes widen in surprise. "You hung my pictures back up!"

"Of course, I did," he pats his thigh lightly. "They're wonderful pieces of art."

He crosses into the room easily, smiling to himself in satisfaction. "You shouldn't have run around the place barefoot, dragonfly." He knows the boy's eyes are widening, as his struggles pick up, and he tightens his grip. "Now, we have to clean those feet."

Sasha's eyes did indeed widen, and he kicks, as best as he can, pulling at the waist of the Warden's trousers, trying to pull himself off from over his shoulder. "No! Not that! Anything but that! Daddy! No! That's mean! Not that!"

He whistles softly as he crosses through the room, kicking the door closed behind him, chuckling softly under his breath. No one can stand it. That's why he does it. You better not let him catch you running around barefoot through his prison.

Jahoel does it all the time, he's a cheeky little thing like that, he's a gluten for punishment, that one.

"Where did I put that scrub brush?" He makes a show of looking for it, it's all for affect, he knows exactly where it is, but he gives it a moment before he picks it up.

Sasha pounds against his back desperately, kicking as much as he can, not that, anything but that. "No! Daddy! I'm sorry! Not that! I'll take berries or flutters or wiggles, anything, anything but the scrub brush!"

"Two birds with one stone, I can punish you for running around barefoot, and I can punish you for stealing my feather." He opens the top drawer in his desk. "Here's that scrub brush. Now for our bucket of warm water." He steps away from his desk to the cauldron hanging beside the fire, reaching for the bucket next to it, he scoops up a bucket full of warm water. "Alright, we're all ready, let's get to scrubbing."

Thaddeus turns for the bed, setting the bucket down on the floor at the foot of the bed and the scrub brush on the edge, he bends forward slightly tugging the younger angel up from over his shoulder, and tosses him down on the bed before him. Sasha shrieks as he falls, winding his arms as he tumbles backwards, and immediately begins his attempt at his crawling escape. He yelps when fingers curl around his left ankle and tug him back. "Not so fast, you, we've got to clean those feet."

"Daddy! No! Not that! I won't do it again! Please! Not the brush!"

"What was that?" He sits on the edge of the bed, pulling the small foot around to rest over his thigh, reaching down to dip the scrub brush into the bucket of warm water, he sets to scrubbing at the dirty foot in his lap. "I didn't quite catch what you said."

The boy screams, squealing with laughter, the foot in his lap squirms and wiggles desperately, but it doesn't throw him off. He chuckles lightly as the youth howls, absolutely howls, with bright peels of laughter. Sasha grips at the sheets of the mattress, trying to pull himself forward, and he chuckles again, tugging him back down, scrubbing up to his toes, and he squeals again, kicking at his shoulder with his free foot. "Don't worry, I'll get to that one in just a few moments, first we have to get this one all clean."

"AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAAAA! DAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAADDYYYHYHYHYHYYYY! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHHEHE BRUUHHUHUHUHUHUSH! AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA! AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAAAHAHHHHAHAHAHHAHAHA!"

"Oh, I think I missed a spot." He moves down to scrub at the sole and the boy screams with laughter, pounding his fists against the mattress, burying his face into the pillow under him. "Don't worry, I got it."

"AHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOHOOOOPPPPP! STOP! BAHAHAHAHAHHAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! EEIEIIEAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA! NOHOHHOHOHOT THEHHEHEHEHEHEEERRREHEHEHEHHEHE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA DAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAADDDYHHYHYHYHYHYYYY!"

"Oh, I missed a spot on the toes."

"EIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA HAHAHAHAHAHAH AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! NOHOHOHOHO! AHAHAHAHAHHA HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOT THHEHEHEHEHEHEH TOOHOHOHESHEHEHEHHEHES! AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA EIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Alright, this one's all clean." He lets go of the left foot, and the boy immediately tries to scoot away, but he turns quick, snatching up the right, and pulls it up into his lap. "Now we scrub the right foot." Leaning down, he dips the brush into the bucket of warm water and sets to scrubbing.

Sasha screeches with laughter, curling his arms around his belly as he twists from side to side, trying to tug his foot free, wiggle it out of the Warden's grasp. But he doesn't budge, and he only manages to twist himself over onto his stomach, pounding his fists against the mattress again.

Looking back, Thaddeus smiles, and drops the brush beside him on the bed as he leans back and digs his fingers into the boy's under thigh.

His boy screams again, cackling with mad laughter, pressing his face into the pillow once more. "This is what you get for stealing my feather." He turns his fingers inwards. "This is what you get."

Sasha kicks his leg, trying to twist over again, but the Warden leans back, leaning on his waist, and digs his fingers into his other thigh, double the trouble, more fun for him. "Say you're sorry! Say you're sorry or I'm never stopping!"

"EEIEIIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! I—I'M SOHOHOHOHOHOORRYYY! AHAHAHAHHAHA EEIEIEIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! PLEASE! PLEHEHEHHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHASE! DAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHADDYHYHYHYHYYY! AHAHHAHAHAHHAHA EIEIEIAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAA!"

"Now, say I'm the best daddy in the whole world!"

"AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHA! YOHOHHOHOHOUUUHUHUHUHUHUR THEHEHEHEHEHE BEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEST DAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHADDDDYYHYHYHYHYHYHY AHAHAHHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHHAHASE!"

"Okay," he pulls back, pulling off his waist and leaning back beside him. "I think you've learned your lesson."

Sasha giggles breathlessly, curling up on his side, rubbing at his thighs in an attempt to rub away the remaining tingles. "Thahat was meheheahhan!"

"Oh, but I'm sure you'll think twice about taking my feather again, won't you?"

The youngling giggles softly. "Prohohobably not."

He chuckles. "I thought as much."

The boy pulls his blankets up over him and collapses against the pillow. "I'm taking a nap."

Thaddeus chuckles again, turning over onto his stomach, he kicks his boots off and climbs up next to him. Collapsing beside him, he curls his arm over his shoulders and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I'll join you."


	60. The Good Old Days

They come running at the sound of the fledgling's scream, two of them tackle the offender as he makes to strike again, wrestling the weapon from his hands. The others crowd around their Warden, the fledgling sitting perched on his stomach, his little hands clutching at the front of his stained tunic, tugging desperately as he sobbed himself hoarse, begging him to wake up again, to come back, not to leave him.

"Chayyliel, take the boy." The head guards steps up, gesturing to the fledgling as him and another gather around the Warden. "We need to get him to the Infirmary."

Chayyliel nods, stepping forward to tug the fledgling up and away, he screams again, kicking and struggling, reaching for the Warden desperately, but the guard holds him tight, pulling him back as the other two heft the unconscious Warden up. Curling one of his arms around their shoulders, they drag him forward, passed the wailing fledgling, down the hall towards the entrance, Chayyliel adjusts his hold on the wailing fledgling and follows after them, watching as the other two drag the prisoner away towards Solitary.

Sasha thrashes in the guards arms, digging his nails into the flesh as hard as he can manage, anything to get him to let go, so he can get back to Thaddy. He screams when the arms tighten around him, kicking as hard has he can muster, Thaddy needs him, he has to help Thaddy, why can't they see that!

They just make it to the Infirmary, two of the Virtues taking the Warden from the two guards, when he sinks his teeth into the guards hand. Chayyliel shouts in surprise, dropping the fledgling to the floor under them, he shakes his hand out as he watches the boy dart forward, ducking under the outstretched hands of healers, passed the two guards standing ahead of him, his only mission was returning to his guardian's side.

"Now, now," no one manages to get passed _him_ , the archangel catches him up midstep, tucking him into his arms as he makes his way away from the bed the Warden has been set to rest on. "There's no need to cause such trouble. They can't help with you behaving in such a way."

The boy sits up in his arms, reaching over his shoulder for the angel in the bed. "Taddy! Need Taddy! _Taddy_! _Taddy!_ "

"Taddy is in good hands." He bounces the boy slightly, causing him to fall back in his arms, keeping young eyes away from them treating their patient. He doesn't need to see that. "He's going to be alright."

"Taddy!" The boy pushes against his chest as much as he can manage, he's surprisingly strong for such a small fledgling, but the archangel holds firm. "Want Taddy! _Want Taddy!"_ He breaks into a sob, giving up on pushing against him, resorting to pounding his fists against the archangels chest instead. " _Waaaaant Taadddyyyyy!"_

"I know you do, little one, I know."

He holds the boy closer when he falls limp, sobbing into his shoulder horridly, clutching at his tunic in two tiny fists.

Someone taps him on the arm, and he turns. "Raph, we've got him mended." He hums, looking over the Virtue's shoulder to glance over the Warden. "He's awake. He was asking about his boy."

Raphael nods, rubbing the fledglings back comfortingly as he sobs into his shoulder. "Thank you, Oren."

The Virtue nods, stepping away to return to what he had been doing before they had arrived, and he made his way across the room to the Warden's side, stepping between the guards posted at his bed, Sasha peeks over and sobs again, reaching for the angel on the bed.

Thaddeus smiles slightly, reaching for the fledgling in turn, Raphael raises an eyebrow at him. "I highly recommend against this."

"I'll….be fine….."

Against his better judgement, and not wanting the boy to get sick from the force of his sobs, he sighs, nodding slightly, and passes the fledgling over to his guardian. Thaddeus curls his fingers around the boy's middle, and he grapples at his arms, the fledgling boy, as he pulls him down. Fingers pull at his sleeves as he draws closer, then latching on to the front of his tunic when he's close enough, the Warden inhales softly at the tugging on his stitches but settles the boy down over him despite the ache. Sasha curls around him, clutching at his tunic tightly, sobbing into his chest feverishly, and he hums, rubbing at his shoulders lightly, scratching soft patterns over his shoulders. The boy slowly starts to settle down, pressed against his guardian's chest, his sobs turn into heaving breaths and then into soft hiccups, his fingers kneading at the Warden's chest softly.

"Taddy…" The boy sniffles miserably, sitting up slightly to look at the Warden. "Taddy, okay?"

"Taddy's just fine, dragonfly." He rubs his cheek lightly, rubbing away the tear tracks with his thumb, using the sleeve of his tunic to rub at his little nose. "There's nothing to be worked up about. I just took a hard knock to the head."

"And, a slight jab to the chest."

He glares at the Healer over the fledglings head. "Don't help."

The archangel chuckles, holding his hands up placatingly, and leaves them be.

"Taddy, be okay?"

He nods, rubbing the boys other cheek clean. "I'm going to be just fine." He tilts his head, caressing the fledglings cheek lightly. "Did you really bite Chayyliel?"

The boy sniffles and nods. "I sorry Taddy."

"It's not me you should be apologizing to."

He sniffles again. "But….But Chayy isn't here anymore."

"Well, when you see him, you should apologize, shouldn't you?"

He smiles when the fledgling nods pitifully, and pulls him back down, Sasha nuzzles against his chest, resting his ear over his heart, and pulls his thumb into his mouth, clutching at the Warden's tunic with his free hand. Fingers scratch at his shoulders, through his curls, and he sighs in content, wheezing softly through his stuffy nose, sucking on his thumb softly.

"There you go, that's it, everything's okay." He rubs a finger over the boy's exposed cheek. "I'm right here."

…

He fills the washing tub with warm water, starting with three buckets of hot water from the cauldron in the fireplace and cooling it with three buckets of cold water, he doesn't want it to be too hot for his little boy. He sets the bucket down on the bench next to the fireplace, next to the scrub brush and wash cloth, towel, and warm pajamas to change into.

Smiling to himself he turns to the fledgling playing quietly at the foot of their bed, running toy cars over a small track, and crosses to kneel behind him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder, the fledgling twists and turns to look up at him, he smiles and leans in to peck his nose just to make him giggle. "Guess what time it is?"

"Story time!"

"No, you little squirt," he pokes him in the belly lightly, it's a chubby little belly, he loves playing with it. "That comes after." He leans over to press their foreheads together. "It's bath time, you stinky little fledgling."

"You stinky!"

"I am not!" He curls his fingers under the boys arms and stands, he shrieks as he does, as the older angel tosses him up, holding him up above his head. "I've already taken my bath, mister, I smell good!"

He curls his little fingers around the Warden's wrists, kicking his little legs lightly. "I smells good too!"

"You do not, you're a stinky little guy, Nis can smell you all the way over at the Pavilion."

"Bath time!"

"There you go," he tosses the fledgling up above his head and he shrieks excitedly, and he catches him in his arms. "You got it." He carries the little fledgling over to the washing tub and holds him out over the water. "Dip your toes in, tell me if it's too hot for you."

Little Sasha nods, reaching out with his foot, dipping his toes in slightly. He shakes his head, looking up to the Warden. "It good."

"Very good, very good." He leans over, lowering the fledgling into the tub, Sasha giggles and splashes his hands over the water lightly. "Let's get you all cleaned up."

Thaddeus slowly lowers himself to sit on his knees as he rolls his sleeves up, and leans over the edge of the tub, crossing his arms over the edge. "So, what are we doing first?"

Sasha looks up at him, sitting shoulder deep in the warm water, and bats his eyes cutely. "Can we do my hair firs'?"

He chuckles. "Oh, don't bat those little eyes at me. Of course, we can do your hair first." He reaches out, poking him in the nose lightly, before turning for the cup sitting next to the bucket on the bench beside them. He dips the cup into the tub. "Close your eyes." Sasha nods, clenching his eyes shut tightly, and he pours the cup full of water over his head, dips the cup back in for more, and repeats those steps until his curls are soaked and matted down. "Keep those eyes closed, I'm getting the soap."

"Okay, Taddy."

He smiles at the firmness in his fledgling's tone, as though this was an important mission, and who knows, maybe it was one to the fledgling, who's he to say what sorts of missions are important and what sorts aren't. He lathers the soap in his hands really good before massaging it into the boy's curls, lathering them up with soapy bubbles, making sure to leave no curls behind. Dipping his hands in the tub to clear the soapy bubbles away, he takes the cup back in hand, curls his left hand over the fledgling's eyes just in case, and begins rinsing his dark curls out. Once the suds are well and truly rinsed away, he wipes the fledglings face off just to be safe and taps him on the nose. "Okay, you can look now."

"All clear?"

"All clear."

Sasha opens his eyes a sliver first, peeking out, as though testing to be sure, and then he opens them completely, smiling up at him. Thaddeus smiles down at him, tapping him on the nose again, and reaches over for both the scrub brush and the wash cloth. "Alright, now which one to we use?" He holds up the brush. "The scrub brush, now this one I think we should use." He holds up the cloth. "Or the boring wash cloth."

The fledgling giggles. "Brush tickles!"

"It does?" He makes an exaggerated face and the little guy shrieks with laughter at the sight of it. "I never would have guessed."

The fledgling points to the wash cloth. "That one!"

Thaddeus pouts lightly. "Are you sure you don't want to use the brush?" He dips his right hand into the tub and squeezes at one of his little feet. "Especially on those little feet."

"No!" He giggles, shaking his head frantically. "No brush!"

He sighs sadly, it's a bit exaggerated, and he smiles when the fledgling giggles again. "Alright, if you're sure, I guess we can use this boring wash cloth." Setting the brush down, he lathers the soap into the wash cloth, wetting it in the tub, and he holds out a hand. "Alright, stand on up." Sasha grabs his hand with both of his and he pulls him up to his feet carefully, standing on his knees slightly to rub at his shoulders and arms, then his belly, he washes his privates, and guides him back down again. "And, we can't forget those feet." The fledgling passes his right foot up first, wiggling his little toes slightly, and he rubs his little foot down, then he reaches for the left and does the same. "Alright, all clean, are you ready to come out?"

The little boy nods, climbing to his feet, his fingers curled around the edge of the tub. He stands himself, it's time for the towel, and scoops the boy up with it. He stands, holding the little boy in his arms, wrapped up snugly in the towel, pressed against his chest. "You smell good now."

"Smell good!"

"You sure do." He puckers his lips up. "Give me a kiss."

Sasha giggles, reaching up to squash his cheeks together, and leans in to kiss him on the lips.

He pats his bottom lightly. "Aww, thanks, baby boy." He reaches down for the boy's warm pajamas and turns for the bed, setting him to stand on the end. "Arms up." Sasha throws his hands up. He chuckles wiggling a finger under his right arm, and the boy shrieks, pulling his arms back down. Gently drying him, then his curls, he pulls the boy's top over his head, then helps him step into his pants.

Turning slightly, he waves a hand at the mess behind him, and it clears away. He loves being an all-powerful angel sometimes.

The fledgling's thumb makes it's way to his mouth as he stands there on the bed, and he smiles, because it's an adorable sight. "Ready for story time?" He nods, reaching up with his free hand, and he scoops the boy up into his arms, and crosses to the side of the bed, sitting and turning to lay against the pillows, he pulls the boy up to rest on his chest, pulls the blankets up over them, and reaches for the story books. "Okay, which ones are we reading tonight?"

…

He knows there's a little fledgling in his office when he steps in and sees the guard escort sitting on one of the chairs across his desk, he shakes his head fondly and closes the door a bit harder then usual, if only to announce his presence to the fledgling hiding somewhere in his office. The giggles give him away, but he pretends not to hear them, if only to play along with the game.

"Chayyliel," he crosses over to his desk, setting the files down on the middle, he pulls his chair around to sit in, careful about sticking his legs under his desk. "Aren't you supposed to be watching over my fledgling?"

"I would, sir," the guard shrugs lightly. "But, I haven't the faintest idea as to where he might be."

"I see, so he's gone and disappeared again, has he?" He reaches under his desk with his right foot, poking a little chubby belly with the toe of his boot, the giggles give him away again. "He could be anywhere. I wish I knew where he was, I want to give him a great big hug."

The fledgling hiding under his desk giggles again, and he feels him move, so he scoots back in his chair. He crawls out from under his desk and jumps at him, swinging him up, he sets the boy to rest on his right thigh. "Here I am!"

He gasps dramatically. "Oh my goodness, where did you come from!"

"I was hidin'!" Sasha points to the desk. "Unda nea'h!"

"You were hiding under my desk?" He shakes his head. "I had _no_ idea! You're such a great hider."

The fledgling giggles adorably and opens his arms. "Big hug?"

Chuckling, the Warden curls him in his arms, hugging him close, he squeezes him and the fledgling shrieks with laughter. "There's your great big hug." Sasha giggles happily, leaning up to press a kiss to the Warden's cheek. "Aw, now don't you know how to melt my heart."

"I hel' Taddy?"

He kisses him on the nose. "You want to help me with my paperwork?"

"Mhmm." The boy nods. "Hel'!"

"I think we can arrange that." Thaddeus reaches for the middle drawer, pulling out a few pieces of blank parchment, then for the second draw on the left, pulling out a box of well-loved crayons. "Why don't you work on this, while I work on these?"

"O'tay!" The boy takes his parchment and crayons, pouring the little crayons out over the desk in front of him, he leans forward, tapping at his chin as he decides on the right color, and perks up when he comes to it, leaning forward for the red crayon. "I draw Taddy pi'ture!"

He turns slightly, kissing his cheek fondly. "I'd love it if you drew me a picture."

They work together in silence, nothing but the scratch of a pen and the scribbling of crayons fills the room around them, the guard remains seated, reading a book, until lunch time rolls around, and then he makes his leave to gather their lunches and returns. He doesn't stray too far, his duty was the protect the fledgling, and he wasn't one to leave his side, so where the fledgling was, he was, even if it was in the safety of the Warden's office.

Sasha eats half of his peanut butter and banana sandwich before he reaches for his box of milk, biting his little lip as he tries to pull it open, he pouts and tugs on the front of the Warden's tunic. "Taddy, I can' get it!"

Thaddeus signs his name on a line and sets his pen down, reaching for the carton of milk, pulls it open, and passes it back to the fledgling. He makes a content little noise and takes a sip of his milk, returning to his sandwich, munching happily as he watches the Warden write on the parchment in the file he was working on, he finishes the last of his sandwich and is reaching for his milk when the Warden flips the page, and he cries out.

They both turn to him in alarm, and the fledgling points at the picture. "That him! Hurt you, Taddy! He bad! He bad, Taddy! He a meanie! I don' like him b'cause he hurt you, Taddy!"

Thaddeus kisses the top of his head, closing the file, he'll finish this one when the little guy was down for his nap. "I know, don't look at it, it's okay. You're here with me, sitting on my lap, so I'm okay." He passes him a small bowl of fruit. "Have some apples."

As it was with small children, he was easily distracted by the sweet tart fruit, picking up an apple slice he bites into it happily, leaning his head against the Warden's shoulder, he watches him open a new file and begin filling out that paperwork. Swallowing his apple, he reaches for his milk, and once he's had his fill, he turns back to his drawings. This one was of him and Taddy, they were holding hands, and he stuck his little tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he worked, wanting it to be perfect for Taddy.

As it always is when one has a full belly, the little fledgling slips into nap time, resting back against the Warden's shoulder, his little eyes flutter dangerously, and he feels Taddy adjust his grip, one of his hands coming around to curl around his belly, keeping him in place as he finally dozes off.

Chayyliel watches with a close eye as the fledgling falls asleep for his after-lunch nap and turns to the Warden. "Sir, I can take him if you'd like."

"No, no, it's alright, I've got him." He kisses the side of the fledglings head. "I'll move him to the cot when I finish this page."

Truth be told, he does, once he completes the page, he moves his hand from around his chubby little belly to curl around his right thigh, as he stands from his chair, walking carefully around his desk, he leans over the cot as he sets the boy down on it. Sasha mumbles, smacking his lips lightly, as he pulls the blanket around him and tucks him in, he's a deep sleeper so there's no worry about waking him up.

Thaddeus kisses him on the head and returns to his seat, reaching in his desk for more parchment, he sets it under the boys crayons, he'll want to come back once he wakes up, and he's going to need more paper.


	61. Three Days Late

"Thadd," the four of them look up from the building plans at the sound of his voice, the Warden dismisses himself quietly and joins him, turning them away for privacy. "What's wrong Saba?"

"Jahoel is sick, Barbados has seemingly joined him this time, they've been sick for the last three days."

"The last three days?" He runs his fingers through his hair. "They should be used to me being away for four days, we set up the schedule every time I go away."

"Thadd, it's been seven days, you were gone three extra days." He shakes his head. "You were supposed to be back Wednesday night at six o'clock in the evening." Thaddeus nods. "Yes, yes, I know, it's only four-thirty."

"On Saturday."

"On…. There's no way. Unless…" His eyes widen as realization hits him. "I lost track of time!"

Sabaoth nods lightly. "I'd hurry back, they weren't doing very well the last time I checked in on them."

He nods, excusing himself from the others, and follows him out of the maze that was the bowels of Hell, out into the open, where he can open his steel colored wings wide, and rocket himself into the air. Sabaoth follows behind him, at a more leisurely pace, he's in no rush to get back, it's his day off, he can take as much time as he pleases.

But he's not so lucky, he was supposed to be back three days ago, and now his little guys were sick. Landing on the veranda around the Prison, he marches in, passed the guards stationed at the front gate, down the main hall towards the stairs, at a steady pace, he makes his way upstairs quickly, marching through their room, back to the washroom in the back.

True to his word, Sabaoth was never anything but, they were both curled up in front of the toilet, wheezing softly through their sore throats. The washroom smelled of fresh vomit and he crinkles his nose slightly, but steps forward for them, his concern for them outweighs the concern of the smell.

"Boys, I am so sorry."

Jahoel looks up at him, whining softly. "You said Wednesday, Thaddy, you said Wednesday."

"I know I did, I'm so sorry, Oel, I lost track of time." He kneels slightly, pulling both boys up into the sitting position, helping them to their feet. "Let's get you two in bed." They both stumble forward slightly, shuffling lightly, as the Warden practically carries them to the bed. He settles Jahoel down on the left and Barbados down on the right. "Let me get a cool cloth for you two." He heads back to the wash room, dampening two clothes, wringing out the excess water, he folds them up, and heads back to their sides, setting the cool damp cloth over both of their foreheads. "Let's get a drink of water, too." He pours two glasses of water from the pitcher on his desk and sits first on the right side of the bed, easing Barbados up slightly, holding the glass to his lips. "Small sips, Ados, just small sips."

The boy nods, sipping at the water greedily, his throat burning and parched after what he'd been through, and he pulls the cup away slightly. "Small sips, Ados, I know you're thirsty but too much at one time could upset your belly." He nods, taking smaller more slow sips, until he's had enough, and the Warden pulls the glass away, setting on the table at his bedside.

Then he moves to the left side, easing Jahoel up from the pillow lightly, he holds the glass under his lips and urges him to drink small easy sips. The boy does, curling his fingers around his wrist first, holding on for dear life, he doesn't want to let go, if he does, Thaddy will leave again. He doesn't want Thaddy to leave again.

"I'm not going anywhere, Oel, I'm staying right here." He tilts the glass forward, spilling just a bit of the water into his mouth, and tilts it away again to let him swallow his small sip. "It's alright."

Still, he holds on, swallowing his sip, opening his mouth for another. He downs a few more sips before he pulls away, he doesn't want anymore, and Thaddeus leans over to set his glass on the bedside table next to him.

"You try and get some sleep." He pets his curls back with his free hand, not pulling the one in captivity away, letting him hold on as much as he wants. Jaheol tucks his hand under his chin. "Don't go, Thaddy, don't go!"

"Hey, hey, hey," he rubs his thumb over the back of the hand closest to it. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm more concerned about you and your belly." He gently tugs his hand free, the little thief whines softly, reaching back out for it, and he stands quickly, to keep his hand from being captured again, and grabs his cloak off the hook next to his desk. Shaking it out, he drapes it over the boy, tucking it around him. "You cuddle with this for a bit, while I wash up and get changed, then we'll all nap together."

That seems to appease the young angel, he curls his fingers into the cloak and pulls it close, covering the lower half of his face with it, he inhales deeply and closes his eyes. His cloak smells like him, it'll do for the moment, and he uses this time wisely, turning and stripping out of his soiled clothing, he collects his nightwear and towel and heads for the washroom. Waving his hand, he dissipates the smell of vomit, and lights a scented candle on the vanity, filling the room with a nice scented aroma.

Bathing quickly, he scrubs his hair and his body, and he steps out of the shower. Wringing his hair out, he rubs it dry with the towel, before rubbing his body dry, and ties the towel around his waist as he comes to stand before the mirror. Spraying detangler into his hair, he rubs it in, and runs the brush through his hair. He decides on what he wants to do with it now that its brushed out and cleaned, he decides on a braid, and braids it up quickly. He pulls his tunic on and his undergarments, followed by his trousers, brushes his teeth really quick, and returns to their room. Barbados, the one closest to the washroom side of the bed, blinks up at him and smiles, he tilts his head, returning the smile, and steps forward, away from the washroom, and kneels at his side, running his fingers through his curls. "How does your belly feel?"

"Better."

The Warden nods. "Good." He collects the two washcloths from their foreheads and sets them aside, before climbing in between them, and pulls them close. Jahoel curls around into his side, still tucked under his cloak, and reaches a hand out to clutch at his tunic. Barbados curls around his arm, clutching at his hand, curling up on his side.

He lets them both curl in close, cuddling into his sides, and he leans over, pressing a kiss to both of their heads. "Get some sleep, a good rest will help your bellies."

They nod, cuddling closer, as close as they can get.


	62. Going Straight To The Top

He comes to stand at the doors to the Throne Room, looking up at the massive wooden structures silently, their awe inspiring to look to, it always takes his breath away. The guards stationed there nod at him when he looks down to them, turning, they each take hold of a handle, and push the massive doors open. He walks between them, his arms crossed behind his back, he felt bad for doing this, but the Archangel was not thinking clearly, and he refused to allow the events that happened to Gadreel repeat themselves with another life.

The one he seeks smiles down at him, gesturing him forward, and he follows the gesture, coming to stand at His feet. He bows his head in greeting and respect, and a warm chuckle echoes around the massive room, a large finger under his chin lifts his head up once more. "There is no need for that My son, tell me Nisroc, what brings you to see Me."

"Father, I'm sorry to disturb you."

He smiles down at him. "There is no need for apologies, you are My son, you are always welcome here." He swipes away the orb He was fiddling with, it could be a new soul or a new fledgling, it would exciting to see what it turned into. "What can I do to help you?"

"Father," Nisroc looks down to his hands for a moment. "You are the only one who can lift a sentence imposed by Michael?"

He hums deeply, nodding His head. "I am."

"Michael is….." He pauses again. "Michael is misguided. Blinded even. Father, I will not allow what happened to Gadreel happen to another, and you are the only one who can help."

"I see," He nods again, leaning forward in His Throne, this is indeed interesting. "What happened to young Gadreel is unfortunate, had I not been so blinding in My grief, I would never have allowed his imprisonment to last as long as it had." He gestures for the young angel to sit, and Nisroc steps forward, lowering himself, sitting on his knees. "Tell Me what is that is going on."

"Life sentences are rare."

He nods slightly. "They are, yes."

"Life sentences given to a youngling even more so."

"Another youngling has been given a life sentence?" That brings a frown to His features, while it saddened Him when any of His children were given life sentences, it was doubly so when it was a youngling. "Tell me, who is it?"

"Zophiel, Father, he is not guilty of the crimes he was accused of, not truly."

"Ah, yes," Father nods lightly. "Young Zophiel," He shakes His head, smiling fondly. "Quite a character. I've seen him with you, and his beloved puppy guard, two peas in a pod those two, very wise of Thaddeus to bring them together. You say he is not guilty of the crimes that have been committed," He rubs at His beard lightly. "Treason, he gave vital information over to the other side, correct?" Nisroc nods silently. "He actions have lost Me a number of My children."

"Father, his reasoning for such a thing is sound, if he'd only be allowed to explain himself." The Captain looks down to his hands. "Michael will not listen to him tell his story, just as he hadn't with Gadreel, he is so young Father," he looks back up at Him. "He is so young, and he is falling apart, he hides it well, but I can see it, I'm sure Thadd can see it. He is strong, yes, but I fear any longer under lock and key, he may reach his breaking point."

"His story has never been heard?"

The Power shakes his head. "No, Michael will not spare him the time, he's already decided him to be guilty, he will not _listen_. He is willing to throw away another young life because of his pride." Nisroc clenches his hands into fists. "And, I will not allow that to happen again."

"Indeed, I am inclined to agree, it is wrong not to hear one's story, there is a reason for every action, one should not judge until they know the reasoning." He stands from His Throne, Nisroc stands from his seated position, and He steps forward, away from the Throne, and shimmers as He shrinks with every step.

He still stands at least two heads taller then him, but He's no giant anymore, He's nearly normal height for them. His long dark brown hair braided up on His head, His beard long and finely trimmed, His rainbow-colored eyes sparkle with fondness and unending love, deep purple robes sway around His ankles. "Lead Me, Nisroc, let's hear this story."

Nisroc smiles up at Him. "Thank you, Father, for being willing to listen."

"I am always willing to listen."

…

The prisoners gather at the bars of their cells to watch Him make His way down the aisle, He smiles at them as they pass, waving to them with His fingers, how He loves His children. Nisroc leads Him down to the Warden's office, and they come to a stop before it, it's closed, Thaddeus has requested privacy with it being closed. The Power sighs softly, reaching up to knock on the door with his knuckles, and they wait for the voice within to grant them entrance.

Thaddeus's voice is soft when it calls from within, and Nisroc nods, curling his fingers around the door handle, he twists, and pushes the door open. The Warden looks up at their entrance, his eyes widening, climbing to his feet quickly. "Father."

He smiles fondly. "Thaddeus, I am sorry for what had happened to you, it brings Me joy to have you back to yourself."

The Warden flushes a deep red. "Thank you, Father."

He smiles again, turning His attention to the boy sitting in the dog bed with the puppy, Thaddeus follows His gaze and clears his throat, drawing the boy's attention up from the book he was reading to the puppy, looking up at the Warden at the call for his attention. "Zophiel, look who's here."

The boy's head turns around when he nods in a certain direction, and his eyes widen when He smiles at him, stumbling to his feet. "Dad!" The puppy jumps up with him, barking excitedly, and He squats, holding His hand out to the small hound. It bounces forward, licking excitedly at His fingers, and He chuckles, petting His hand down the back of it's head fondly. "Hello, Qaspiel."

"Father, not that you are not welcome here, but," Thaddeus sits when He stands, gesturing for him to sit, and He takes a seat on the other side of the desk, Nisroc at his side. "What brings you out of the Throne Room?"

Zophiel scurries around the desk, climbing into the Warden's lap, leaning back against him, feeling comforted by the arm that automatically curls around his waist.

He crosses His left foot over His right knee and leans back, curling His hands together in His lap, nodding to the Warden's question. "I've been told there is a story that I should hear."

"A story?"

Nisroc nods for Him, his eyes meeting those of the youngling watching them, Zophiel shrinks slightly, he knows why he's being looked at. "Michael is wrong. He will not lift the sentence. So I went above his head."

Zophiel curls his fingers around the Warden's fingers, they intertwine together, and he looks over to his Father, to meet His rainbow eyes. "You want to hear _my_ story?"

He nods. "I do, if you would be willing to tell it."

"But, no one's ever asked before."

"And, that is an error in judgement, one must always hear the story." He smiles at him gently. "I would like to hear your story."

The youngling looks down, squeezing his guardian's fingers, Thaddy squeezes his back comfortingly. "Well…..I don't know….No one's ever asked me before."

"Nieto," Nisroc leans forward. "Just tell Him what you told me."

Zophiel looks over at him and nods, Thaddeus presses a kiss to the side of his head, and he looks over at him too. "You can do this, Zophi."

"Well…" He sighs, rubbing at his cheek with his free hand. "I guess…My old Guardian…..The one before Thaddy….He was a traitor…They made me do it. I didn't have a choice." He nods, not interrupting, this was a story He wanted to hear. "They said that no matter what choice I made, that I would be blamed just as much as they would, by mere affiliation , that I would be a traitor too. They had said Michael would be more forgiving, because of my age, so I did it." He pauses, taking a deep breath, tracing his finger over the back of Thaddeus's hand. "I guess he wasn't."

"What else, little one, tell Me."

"I did it…I did it because I didn't want them to give over something that was _super_ important, and then I waited. I dropped a feather in his office where I knew he would see it, I knew he'd know it was mine and come find me, and I waited for him, I thought he'd understand if I told him." He shakes his head lightly, a small frown gracing his features. "But he didn't let me explain. He just said I was a traitor. And ordered the guards to bring me here."

Thaddeus rubs his arm with his free hand. "You're doing great."

Zophiel nods slightly, comforted by the praise, Qaspiel barks softly, licking his toes comfortingly. "Well….Did you know that Michael has a list of all the guardians and miracle workers on Earth, their charges and their locations?" He nods, His interest peaked. "I don't know what they had chosen to give as their proof of allegiance. But I know it was a lot more important then what I choose to give."

"So," He leans forward slightly. "You choose to hand over information, so your guardian didn't give away anything vital?"

" _That's_ what they wanted to give over?"

The youngling nods to both his Father and Guardian. "I said I'd give them the information so that they could make a clean get away. They were long gone by the time I handed over what I did. I knew it would be okay, because the other list was still safe in Michael's vault, and that they wouldn't dare try to sneak back in to get it, they were a coward."

"So, your betrayal, wasn't necessarily a betrayal at all, was it?" Father looks at him in wonder, and he looks down shyly, shrugging his shoulders. "It is indeed an interesting story," He looks over to the Power beside Him. "I must agree with you, Nisroc."

Nisroc nods at Him. "See, Father, he is a _hero_. Yes, we lost some lives, but he's _saved_ so many more."

"He has indeed." He nods His head. "The lives that were lost will always be remembered, and the lives that were saved will always be cherished, you did a wonderful thing, Zophiel."

His cheeks reddened slightly, and he ducks back into the Warden's shoulder. "I guess."

"Furthermore, it is wrong to punish you for something such as this, while it was wrong, it was also right, given the situation." He rubs at His beard lightly. "I pardon you of your sentence, Zophiel." The youngling looks up at Him with wide eyes and He smiles at him. "I cannot take back the time that you've already lost, but I can grant you time to come, you are free to come and go as you please." He twirls His hand around in a semi-circle. "If Michael decides to confront you, you just give him this, and he can come to Me with his concerns." He leans forward, setting a scroll on the edge of the Warden's desk.

"I'm….I'm _free_?"

He nods, smiling softly, winking at the boy. "You're free, My boy."

Zophiel stares at him, tears gathering in his wide eyes, and he jumps forward. "Thank you!" He jumps over the Warden's desk and crashes into Him, He grunts under the impact, but chuckles, curling His arms around the young angel. "Thank you, Dad!"

"You are most welcome, My little one." He strokes His fingers through his curls, kissing him on the top of the head, hugging him close to His chest. "You are young still, you deserve to enjoy your youth to the fullest, it is the least I can do."


	63. Using The Secret Weapon

"Abner, you're wasting my time," he rubs at the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "And, I'm a very busy angel, I don't like my time being wasted."

"I just don't understand why we have to talk to you _every_ day!"

"You _know_ why." He turns to the one sitting between the two bedridden sentries . "Titus, if you'd please." The Power nods, turning away from the whispered conversation he was having with the younger sentry, leaned back slightly, and buried his face into the side of the elder sentry's neck.

Abner shrieks immediately, scrunching his shoulder up, trying to lean away from the Power. He chuckles against the skin of his neck and it brings him to shriek again, the arm curled around his waist pulls him close, keeping him from moving away from him.

The Virtue gives him a minute, Titus enjoys torturing his old charges, so there's no worry he'll get bored of it. He smirks at the fledgling like, high pitched giggles, coming from the sentry. "Thank you, Tus."

The Power nods, pressing a kiss to the smooth skin, and pulls away, turning around to the younger sentry to return to his whispered conversation with his younger sentry charge.

Abner glares at the mental specialist, swallowing the rest of his giggles as best as he can, and he smirks at the sentry. "You want to talk now?" He nods to the Power next to him. "If not, I'm sure Titus would be happy to convince you a bit more."

"I don—" The sentry feels his older brother shift beside him, and he giggles in anticipation, leaning away from him. "No! No! I'll talk! I talk!"

"Good." Akriel leans back in his chair, he can't help the smirk that overcomes his features. "Let's talk."


	64. For Little Angels

Sorath was at an impasse, Tus was away again, Saba was busy, and once again, after the week he'd had, he wanted some tickles. Tickles always made him feel better, it made the ache from the Scribes mean words fade away, made him forget them in his bubbly laughter, he liked the playfulness it brought with it.

But there was no one for him to go to for tickles, once again, Tus was away, Sabaoth was busy leading the new guards through training, so he went to bed earlier then he usually did, leaving him alone to fend for himself.

He hummed slightly, racing his cars across the track he'd gotten last week, making little car noises under his breath. There was someone else he could go to, someone who was like Tus, nice and playful and always giving him new stuffed animals, maybe he'd be willing to give him tickles. He hummed to himself, bringing his car to a stop on the track. He could ask, the worst that could happen was he said no, actually the worst that could happen is he could say he was a bad angel and shun him from his newfound family.

Would Tus let him, would he fight to protect him, what would he say?

Pushing himself to his feet, he steeled his resolve, and sat up, placing his cars back on the shelf above his bed. He curls his fingers into fists and turns, pulling his door open to allow him exit from his room, making his way silently passed Saba's door, he didn't want to wake him, he needed his sleep, he crept around to the stairs that led up to the Pavilion above, it was silent above him, maybe he was already asleep, he didn't want to disturb him if he was already asleep, he was a busy angel.

But what if he wasn't asleep yet. What if he was still awake and he missed out on his tickles.

He took the first step. Paused. And then took the second. The third. Forth. Until he was at the landing above, standing in the empty Lounge. The dishes were still glistening with water, having just been washed and set to dry, and there was commotion coming from the hall across from him, so he knew that they were still awake. Twiddling his fingers softly, he stepped forward, folding in on himself slightly as he entered the hall, peeking into each room in search of the one he sought after. He was in the final door, in the middle of pulling his tunic over his head, turning when he knocks on the door, calling for him to enter.

Sorath looks to the floor as he pushes the door open, stepping into the room quietly, not wanting to look him in the eyes lest he see the distaste and disgust.

"What can I do for you, young Sora?"

He peers up at the sound of his name, looking into the Captain's shining eyes, he's always so happy, there's not a pinch of distaste in them. He hasn't put his clean tunic on yet, his arms crossed lightly over his bare chest, there's a few scars, but mostly muscle. "Uummm…"

"Take your time."

The young guard nods, swallowing thickly, and looks back down to his fingers again. "Uummm, Nisros…..Nis….Willyoutickleme?"

"I'm sorry?" He sounds amused, not upset, curious even. "I didn't catch that."

"I said…Ummmm….Will you tickle me?"

"You want me to tickle you?" His arms uncross, fingers curling around his hips gently, tilting his head curiously. "Why?"

"Because….." He looks down again. "I like…I like being tickled."

He closes his eyes, waiting for the dismissal, the words of distaste, the disgust for him and his secrets. He can't help what he likes. And he happens to like tickles.

"You want tickles?" Sorath nods softly, yelping as he's scooped up off his feet, up into the oldest Power's arms. He looks down at him with wide eyes, into his shining eyes and smiling face, he's so nice to him, even after all he's done. "Oh, I'll give you tickles, little guy." A smile slowly crawls over his features and he nods. "All you ever have to do is ask."

"Okay, Nis."

"Let's get you those tickles."

He giggles softly as the Power turns towards his bed, curling his fingers around the older angel's bare shoulders, Nisroc looks around him for direction, coming to stand at the edge of his bed. He bends forward, the guard falling backwards, dropping the younger angel over onto the bed behind him. Sorath giggles where he lies, looking up at the mighty Power Captain with shining eyes, giggling in anticipation. Nisroc winks at him, reaching out to poke him in the belly lightly, and he giggles harder.

"You stay right there, let me get a tunic on real quick, then we'll give you those tickles."

He nods, pushing himself upwards to lay against the soft fluffy pillows, watching as the Power leaves him for a moment, reaching into his wardrobe for a clean tunic, pulling it over his head, he turns to smile at the young guard. Rushing forward, he drops over the bottom of his bed, trapping his legs under his body, resting on his elbows around his hips.

"You ready for some tickles, little guy?" He giggles and nods. Nisroc smiles at him, reaching down for the edge of his tunic, gently pulling it up over his belly, revealing the pale skin underneath. "I love giving tickles to little angels." He wiggles his two forefingers into his lower belly, and the young angel giggles harder, squirming under him slightly. "And you're definitely a little angel."

Sorath giggles softly. "You're a big angel."

He chuckles softly. "I'm a very big angel."

He wiggles his fingers into his lower belly again and the young angel shrieks softly, squirming under him gently, curling his fingers into the quilt underneath him. "I think your belly is a wee bit ticklish." He wiggles a finger under his belly button and the young guard shrieks again, sucking in his belly, and the Power chuckles softly. "You think sucking in your belly will get you away from me?" He digs all five fingers into either side of his belly, and the young angel throws his head back, pressing back into his pillow, laughing brightly and freely. "I've become very adept in giving little angel bellies tickles, you can't escape me."

Sorath shrieks in laughter, the teasing making it all that much worse, and lets go of his breath as his laughter explodes from him. Shimmying from side to side, giggling when he slows his wiggling fingers, poking and prodding gently. The way he smiles at the Captain is adorable, he has dimples, something Nisroc's never noticed before, the way his eyes light up, beaming with excitement. "How about this?" He curls his fingers around his sides, preparing them both for what's about to come, and winks at the young angel. "This always drove your older brother crazy, still does, I'm just that good." He winks at him playfully and looks down at his belly, searching for the perfect spot for him to do what he must do, and nods when he seemingly finds it.

Sorath's eyes widen as he takes a deep breath, his head shooting down, his beard rubs against his belly as he presses his lips to the smooth surface and lets go a massive rumbly raspberry against his belly. The young guard screams with laughter, his fingers uncurling from the quilt under him to curl into the Power's long hair, holding on for dear life. "And how about one here, too?" He moves to the other side of his belly, takes another breath, and blows out another monstrous raspberry. Sorath squeals brightly, like a fledgling, bracing his heels against the edge of the bed, pushing up for all he's worth, arching his back at the extreme sensation.

Nisroc chuckles against his belly, his legs trapped by his arms, and reaches back to dig his fingers into the meat of his thighs. "You put those legs back down, mister." The younger angel squeals brightly and throws his legs down again, anything to get those wiggling fingers off his thighs, they move back up to wiggle in his belly. Sorath squeals again and archs his back, pushing against his shoulders, Saba and him always played when he went to him for tickles, he wondered if Nis would do the same. He curled his legs around the Captain's waist and forced them over, until he was sitting on the Power's stomach, and the Captain only chuckled again. "Oh, you want to play?" He curls his fingers around the bottom of the younger angel's thighs. "You want to wrestle?" He smiles when the young guard nods his head softly, smiling happily, and the Power whistles lowly. "You think you'll win?" Again, the young guard nods, giggling softly, and he smiled again. "We'll see, won't we?"

He pulls on the young angel's legs, sending him falling over backwards, falling into his lap as he sits up, guiding his legs around his sides, he reaches forward to run his fingers up the younger angel's sides, smiling at the shrieking mess he makes of him. Sorath curls his arms tight around himself, trying to block his sides, but he manages to make his grasp and wiggling his fingers up and down the sensitive skin. He sucks in a breath, holding onto his laughter, and shots up, thanking Tus internally for making them do all those sit ups during training, and digs his fingers in the Power's ribs. He laughs brightly when he makes the mighty Power shriek in surprise, his arms clamping down to protect his rib cage, and he pushes with his feet to send them back over, pushing the Power back onto his back, digging into his ribs viciously. He manages to find that spot that, thus far, their Commander has only managed to get to, and the Power throws his head back with laughter.

The younger angel laughs in triumph, a bit too soon, as fingers curl around his waist, throwing him forward, and he goes tumbling into the pillows above them. He's braced back against the pillows underneath him, his left arms braced above his head, and a finger wiggles deeply into his underarm. He shrieks in laughter, tugging desperately on his arm, as more fingers join in on the tickly torment. Nisroc smiles down at him, long hair falling gracefully over his shoulders, and he squeals brightly when he finds a particularly sensitive spot. "You thought you could get _me_?"

Sorath shrieks and shakes his head frantically.

The Power winks at him again, he's starting to learn just what those winks mean, and he braces his arm tightly, holding his chest down as he lowers himself towards his captive underarm, taking a deep breath, he burrows into his armpit and blows a vicious raspberry. Sorath squeals with laughter, arching his back, tugging feverishly at his wrist above his head. "I'm going to get _you_." He takes another deep breath and blows another raspberry, just as vicious as the last one, and he squeals again.

Throwing himself to the side, he curls his leg around the Power's waist, and uses the momentum to throw them over, the Power yelps as he tumbles over, stumbling to catch himself before he fell over the side of the bed, Sorath rolls with him, coming to sit between his legs as the Captain hangs precariously over the edge of the bed, and reaches down to wiggle his fingers against his bare soles. He shrieks, his toes curling at the feeling, and the young angel giggles softly, reaching forward to pull the toes of his right foot back so he can wiggle his fingers under them, Nisroc yelps a high pitched yelp and laughs these big deep belly laughs, yanking on his foot, enough that the younger angel curls around his ankle.

The Captain sits up easily, with his internal well trained muscles, having done many more sit ups in his lifetime then the young guard has, and curls his arms around the younger angel's midsection, pulling him back as he flops back down, tugging him up to lay over his chest, and digs his fingers into either side of his rib cage. His young charge squeals brightly, kicking his legs out as he assaulted his ribs, sliding fingers under his arms and wiggling in there, and he threw his head back, smacking it lightly against the Power's shoulder, and a bearded face burrowed into the side of his neck, he screams brightly, trying to lean to the side, he doesn't get very far.

"Tap out," he blows a deep raspberry into his neck. "Tap out, Sora."

Sorath squeals, reaching over to tap the side of the Captain's head, and Nisroc laughs softly against his neck, pulling one of his hands out from under his arm to catch his hand before he can pull it away, and stops his playful attack, pressing his lips to the palm of his small hand, his own dwarf the young guards. He falls limp overtop of him, limbs sprawling in all directions as he lays over the Power's Captain, breathing deeply after such an occasion, trying to catch his breath. Arms curl around his waist and a bearded chin rubs against the undercurve of his jaw bone as lips press just under his ear.

"Have fun?"

He nods breathlessly.

"Did you want tickles because it was a rough week?"

He nods again.

"Do you want me to put the fear of Father into Metatron come morning?"

Sorath nods again, curling his fingers through the ones curls over his lower belly, twining their fingers together.

"Do you want to sleep with me tonight?"

Again, he nods.

"Should we go get your dolphin then?"

Sorath nods silently, and the Power sits up, the young angel sliding down to sit between his legs. Fingers curl around his hips lightly. "Up you get." Boosting him up to his feet. He feels the warmth of the Power come up behind him soon enough, as Nisroc pulls himself to his feet in turn, and a warm hand presses to the small of his back. "Let's go get your dolphin."


	65. For The First Time

It happened right out of the blue, one minute he was snuggling under his papa's blankets, taking the time to be with him before he went away for the next couple days, he warmed up, not the usual warming up, but the warming up that came out of nowhere, and suddenly something changed. The blankets were heavier, something was different, the world seemed different.

Something was wrong.

He tried to call out to papa, he'd know what to do, he always knew how to make things better. His call was interrupted by a small bark, and he blinked, falling silent for a moment, before trying to call out again, another bark, and he backed up. Something was out there. Something was barking at him. He tried calling out to papa again and another bark interrupted him.

"Sora, where'd you go?" That was papa, he would know what to do, he'd know how to make it better. "You were just here a minute ago."

He squirms, trying to get out from under the blanket, and he hears his papa hum softly, and the blankets lifted away.

"Oh, ho, ho," fingers curl around him, around his belly, and lifts him from the bed. "Did my little angel finally change forms?"

He tries to speak again but all that comes out is a bark, and that's when he realizes, he's the one barking. That's him- _wait._ Changed forms?

Sorath barks again, kicking his four little paws gently, Titus chuckles lightly, lifting him to his face. "That's right, changed forms, all of my guards are angel hounds. Some learn sooner then others." He kisses him on the nose lightly. "Aren't you just adorable. Just a little ball of fluff. I could cuddle you all day." He cuddles him close. "You're just adorable." The puppy purrs in content when he scratches a finger behind his left ear. "Too bad I have to go, I really wanted to be around for this, who can I leave you with while I'm gone….?" He nods to himself. "Come on you, I know just who to leave you with."

He walks from his room, holding the puppy on his arm, and makes his way down the stairs for the guards quarters. He comes to the door he was heading towards, and stands before it, knocking lightly, he waited for the granting of his request for entrance. Someone calls out to him, and he pushes the door open, Sabaoth turns to greet him, braiding his hair up behind his head. "What can I do—Is that Sora?"

Titus holds the chubby little puppy up. "Guess who finally changed forms?"

"Oh, Sora," the oldest Prison guard steps forward, taking the little puppy in his hands, holding him up above him as he leans back slightly. "That's amazing!" He pulls the puppy closer, pecking it's cool nose lightly. "You're absolutely adorable!" The little puppy barks happily and licks his nose lightly. "Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

He tucks the puppy to his chest and looks up to the Power curiously. "What can I do for you?"

His captain smiles at the pair of them. "As you know, I'm going away for the next couple of days, I can teach him to change back when I return, but I need someone to watch him until I return."

"And you want me to do so?"

"If you would be so kind."

"Aww." He lifts the puppy back up. "How can I say _'no'_?" He sets the puppy down on his bed and sighs, his own form shimmering as he changes, the puppy stands up as the large hound appears. Titus crosses his arms, smiling as he watches the large hound hop up on the bed, take the puppy up by the scruff, and lays down, depositing the puppy between his two front legs, and begins licking the little fluffy head.

The Power chuckles lightly, leaning forward to rub the older guards head fondly. "Thanks, Saba."

His hound barks softly, returning to his bathing of the puppy, Sorath ducks slightly, barking softly at his bathing.

"You're in good hands…" he kneels to poke the puppy on the nose. "Or, I should say, in good paws."

…

Osmadiel raises an eyebrow at his brother's form, though he could choose between the two freely, he preferred his humanoid form over his hound form, Rahab squeals softly at the puppy that hangs from his mouth. Thaddeus coos softly from over the older guards shoulder, he'd taken the liberty of swapping their stools from a doggie bed when Tus had told him about Sora's changing forms.

The older hound sets the puppy down in the middle of the bed, turning slightly to growl threateningly at the scribe, he dared the prisoner to make any sort of comment, and turned back to lay over the puppy. Sorath whines softly at all the attention, crawling backwards against the older hound, hiding between his legs. His guardian growls at them until they look away, and they turn, watching from the corner of their eyes as he nudges the puppy over with his nose and starts licking at his neck.

"Isn't he just a cutie."

Rahab squeals again softly, into her hands, and Os looks between her and the Warden. "Wait," he turns back to the two hounds. "Is that Sora?"

Thaddeus nods. "Sure, is little brother, he changed forms this morning." He steps around him and kneels before the two hounds, reaching out slowly, Sabaoth looks up at him and huffs, giving him permission to touch the puppy. He scratches a finger under the puppy's chin, cooing again, and the puppy yaps happily. "Aren't you just a cutie."

Osmadiel claps his hands softly, standing from his stool, he draws their attention over to him. "I want in on this, you're gonna have to share him Saba." He steps forward, shimmering softly as he changes forms midstep, Sabaoth growls at him as he steps forward, and he growls back, rubbing his head over the side of the older hounds neck. His older brother nips at his ear lightly and huffs, bobbing his head slightly. Thaddeus steps back as the other hound closes in, looming over the puppy slightly, he nudges him over with his snout, turning the puppy over onto his back, leaning against Sabaoth's right leg, he pokes his nose into the puppy's chubby little belly, sniffing softly, then he licks it. Sorath shrieks softly, kicking his four little legs lightly, squirming on his back as the older hound continuously licks playfully at his belly.

Sabaoth lets him carry on for a few minutes before he nudges him away, barking firmly, and Osmadiel growls in return, snagging the puppy up by the scruff and climbing in beside the older hound, depositing the puppy between his legs, and begins licking his neck, down his back. Sorath yelps, squirming up to his front paws, and the older hound pulls him back with his left paw, curling his leg over his neck to keep him in place.

Rahab shrieks excitedly, jumping from her stool, and the Warden turns in time to see her hop forward, changing forms midjump, and another puppy joins them, young, but older then little Sora. She rolls head over heels into Sabaoth, and the older hound huffs, snagging her by the scruff and depositing her between his legs, licking at her head lightly.

Both puppies whine softly, squirming under their respective older brother, and Thaddeus chuckles, crossing his arms slightly. "Don't worry, pups, two can play at that game." He leans forward, falling forward, changing forms as he falls forward, larger then both of the older guards, the Warden lays between them, tugging them closer by the ear, and sets off licking Sabaoth's head first.

The hound under him purrs softly, flopping down over his legs, and the oldest hound barks a laugh, licking down his neck. Sorath manages to escape Osmadiel's clutches and trades places with Rahab, climbing up shakily on the oldest guards side, flopping down over him.

That's how Nisroc finds them when he comes in search of the Warden, and he chuckles at the sight of them, crossing his arms lightly. "Well, isn't this a sight." The largest of the hounds barks up at him, and returns to licking Osmadiel's neck. "Well, Thaddy, I came for you." The hound perks up, looking up at him. "That's right, I came for you, I think there's something you'll want to see." He smiles when the hound tilts it's head curiously. "I think you'll find him to be a familiar sight." He reaches into the satchel he wears around his shoulder, pulling out a grey fluffy puppy, he squats, holding the chubby puppy out. "Look familiar?"

The Warden hound's eyes widen, and he barks excitedly, pushing the guard off his legs as he jumps up, trotting forward, he snags the wide eyed puppy by the scruff, pulling him out of the Captain's hands, trotting back over to the other hounds, he lays down, tucking the little grey puppy between his two front legs, licking at his little head gently, he nudges him over onto his side, licking over the side of his belly. The little puppy yaps softly, tugging at the fur on the underside of his neck, and the older hound pulls back, huffing softly when the puppy curls up under him, resting its head on his right leg, and the older hound lays over him.

Nisroc smiles. "Well, I can see he's in good hands."


	66. One Thing Leads To Another

Here he lays again, staring up at the stone ceiling, listening to the crackle of the fire in the fireplace beside him, his tunic folded nicely on the wooden table at his feet. The walls are bare, for the most part, there's a tapestry that hangs above the wooden table, but the sharp instruments are gone, the rooms been cleaned up, the walls scrubbed, where there had been rust colored spots is now only light grayed colored stone walls.

He'd gotten farther this time, he'd made it all the way to the gates when they had caught him, dragged him all the way back, his sentence had been lengthened for his escape attempt. This time _he_ had been there, standing at the entrance, arms crossed, shaking his head as he glared at him firmly. He tried for a smile as the guards dragged him down the hall towards the chamber, _he_ didn't smile back, and _he_ didn't follow. The guards prepared him, wrestling him down on the table, one holding him down as the yanked his tunic up from over his head, strapping his wrists down to the table, he kicked at them, as they reached for his ankles, he managed to kick one in the jaw, and they slammed his feet down on the table harder and he grunted in pain from it, though he knew he deserved it. They untied his boots and set them to rest next to his tunic, then they peeled off his socks, resting them over his boots, and held his ankles tight as they scrapped them up.

The guard he kicked glared at him as he turned away, rubbing at his jaw, but he left it at the glare, he knew what happened when you struck a prisoner, and no one wanted to see that side of the Warden too many times. He did grumble to his partner about ' _ungrateful brats'_ though as they left him there and pulled the door closed behind them.

He listened closely for the sound of heavy boots clomping their way towards him, straining his ears for them, he didn't want to miss them.

There they were, he smiles at the sound of them, stomping there way closer and closer, slowly, but surely, he was on his way. He squirms lightly, tugging at his binds, but they hold firm, as they always do. The stomping of the boots is getting closer and closer, until they stop, he's right outside the door, the handle jiggles, it turns, the tumblers click, and the door creaks as it's pushed open.

The Warden steps in, holding his file in one hand, and a bucket in the other. He ignores him for the moment, closing the door behind him with his elbow, he turns, walking for the wooden table at his feet, reaching up, he sets the bucket on the table. There's a tension in the air about him, and a certain kind of nerves fills him to the very ends of his wavy locks, and he get's the feeling that the Warden is not happy with him.

He doesn't turn to face him, he leans over the table, his back facing him, and the sound of his pen scratching at the parchment combines with the crackling of the fire. That's what took him so long, it was the paper work, the spy grimaces, he knows how much the Warden hates doing paperwork, his shoulders are tense, maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all.

"What was it _this_ time, Rizoel?"

_Yikes._ The first name. His tone is firm, he's most certainly not happy with him, and Rizoel bites his cheek lightly. "I…I wanted your attention…"

"You _wanted_ my _attention_." He turns then, tossing his pen down, and leans back against the edge of the table as he crosses his arms. "Well, you most _certainly_ have it." He holds up a finger. "The first time, was amusing." He lifts another. "The second, was amusing." He lifts another finger. "The third, not so much." He curls his fingers back down and begins tapping his upper arm. "There's one of two ways this could go; the nice way, or, the not so nice way." He shrugs lightly. "On one hand, I am in a pleasant mood." Then he tilts his head to the side slightly. "But, on the other hand, this is becoming increasingly unacceptable." He straightens back out again. "But then, we could also go one route and see where it takes us after."

Thaddeus nods to himself, pushing away from the table, he's decided which route this is going to go, he walks up the table, coming to stand above his head, undoing the straps from around his wrists. Rizoel watches him walk back down the side of the table, feeling something twist inside him, this isn't how he wanted it to go, he hadn't thought this would happen. He wiggles his toes as the Warden undoes the straps from around his ankles, and yelps when he tugs him down across the table, pulling his legs to dangle over the edge. He turns, lifting the bucket up off the table by the handle, and sets it to rest in his lap, Rizoel quickly curls his arms around it to keep it from falling over when he lets the handle go, looking down at the bucket of soapy water and scrub brush for a moment, then back up to the Warden, this was _really_ not what he wanted to have happen.

The older angel plants his hands on his hips firmly. "You're going to scrub the floor." He nods over his head. "From one end to the other."

"But," he looks over his shoulder, the room suddenly seems bigger then it did before, and he looks back up to the Warden. "That'll take me _hours_."

The Warden leans forward slightly. "Then you better get started." And stands back straight again. "Because, you only have an hour, and if it's _not_ done in an hour, then we'll try something a bit more _hands on_ , if you know what I mean."

"An _hour_!"

"Well, now," he looks down to his watch. "You have fifty nine minutes and fifty five, fifty four, fifty three—"

Rizoel's eyes widen and he jumps off the table, his bare feet smacking the stone floor softly, he bolts over to the other side of the room and drops, reaching into the bucket, he picks up the scrub brush, and begins scrubbing that corner of the floor. Thaddeus watches him for a minute, and turns for the boy's file, he still has to finish that paperwork. He hops up onto the metal table, his legs dangling over the side, and pulls the packet out, flipping it over to the page he left on, and begins his work once more, the sound of the brush and the crackle of the fire filling in the space around him.

An hour passes by quickly, he finishes his paperwork twenty minutes in, and sets the file aside, tapping his fingers over the edge of the metal table as he watches the boy work. The little spy makes great progress in the span of twenty minutes, and he pulls his legs up as the boy works his way around the table, crawling inch by inch on his hands and knees. He raises his right hand, blowing on one of his rings, he rubs it over his tunic, as he turns back to watch the boy work, a bit of labor never hurt anyone.

The boy pauses, sitting up, stretching his back slightly, and rubs the back of his hand over his forehead. His bare shoulders glisten as he draws nearer to the fireplace, sweat beading over his skin, and then he bends back over, presses the brush to the stone floor, and begins scrubbing again.

He kicks his legs slightly, checking his watch for the time, and takes on an impressed expression, nodding his head lightly. The little hands overlaps the big hand as the hour comes to an end just as the boy sits up again, dropping the brush into the bucket, he hums, impressed, turning to look at the youngling.

Rizoel looks over his shoulder at him and he nods at a bucket in the corner. "Get yourself a drink." He climbs to his feet carefully, and scampers over to the bucket of fresh water, filling himself self a cup, he chugs it in his thirst from such strenuous manual labor that was scrubbing the whole floor on one's hand and knees. He drops the ladle back into the bucket and turns to look at the Warden.

Thaddeus wags a finger at him. "Come here."

Scampering across the floor carefully, the boy comes to stand before him, and he tugs him forward by the ear, until he stands against the table, between his legs, and he tilts his head up with a finger under his chin. "You wanted my attention?"

The little scamp nods bashfully. "It's just…..You've been away a lot recently…." He rubs his foot over his left ankle. "And….I haven't seen you in a while…..I just wanted to see you."

"Rizo." Good. They're back to the nicknames again. "If you wanted to see me, you could have just asked for me, I would have made time for you." He taps him on the nose fondly. "You didn't have to cause trouble."

Rizoel looks down. "I'm sorry, Thaddy."

"I know you are, you little scamp." He nods to the wooden table to their right. "Grab your tunic, boots, and socks."

The boy nods, darting off, careful with the wet floor, and gathers his things, returning to the Warden's side after only a quick moment. Thaddeus pulls him into his side as he steers him to the door. With his file tucked under his arm, he pulls the door open with his free hand, and turns them to the stairs.

He sees the boy look up at him from the corner of his eye.

"Aren't I going back to my cell?"

He shakes his head. "Nope."

He leads him up the stairs, taking his things from him when they reach the top, nodding to the door on the right. "The washroom is in there, you're all sweaty and yucky, go wash up and I'll explain everything when you're done."

"But I—"

"I set a clean tunic in there for you."

Rizoel nods silently, he looks as though he wants to ask question, but he nudges him over with his elbow and the boy slips into the washroom at his silent urging.

Thaddeus hums to himself as he turns into his quarters, setting the boys file and belongings down on his desk, he turns to his wardrobe, he'll change into his night clothes while the boy washes up. Pulling his tunic up over his head, he tosses it into the hamper, and reaches up to let his hair down from the bun it's in, and brushes it out, tossing it over his shoulders, he reaches into his wardrobe for a pair of trousers and slips into them, then he removes his rings, setting them into the small tray on the door.

The door across the hall squeaks open slowly and closed, and he turns to peer over his shoulder as the boy wanders in tentatively, Rizoel looks about his quarters curiously. "You redid everything."

"Well, I had to," he closes the door on his wardrobe and turns, resting his hands on his hips lightly. "With me, and three boys, sometimes four, staying up here." He looks around for a moment before turning his gaze back to the spy. "I had to make some changes."

The boy tilts his head, frowning slightly. "Three….?" There goes his hopes.

"Yes, three, full time anyway." He wags a finger at him again and Rizoel steps forward slowly, until he's standing before the Warden, and Thaddeus reaches out with his hands, curling them over his shoulders, pulling him just a bit closer. "First things first, you're under house arrest, you step a foot outside this building without _my_ permission, and you'll be over my knee before you can blink, you understand me?" Rizoel nods silently, staring up at him with wide eyes, did this mean what he thinks it means. "Secondly, no more of this spy business, you're done, I don't care who says what, you're not to be involved anymore. If I find out you're partaking in espionage again, you'll be over my knee, you still following me?" The boy nods again. "And, lastly, on a more personal front. You're grounded. You are to be in bed by nine-thirty. You can stay up here, or you can come down to my office, but that's it, got it?"

The _former_ little spy nods. "But…Does that mean….?"

"I meant it when I said you most certainly had my attention. You're mine now kid, and my kids are upstanding members of society, or they find themselves over my knee." He tugs at the boys ear lightly. "Got it?"

Rizoel nods, a smile stretching over his features, and it's contagious, the Warden smiles down at him. "Got it, Thaddy." He throws himself forward, hugging himself around the older angel's middle, pressing his face to his chest. "Thanks, Thaddy."

"Hey, of course, little guy." He pets his hand down the back of the boy's head. "But it's time for you to get in bed, it's passed your new bedtime." His new boy nods quickly, hugging him tightly one last time, and scampers off to climb into bed.

Smiling fondly, he shakes his head lightly as he turns to his desk, opening the second drawer, and drops the boy's file in, it lays over Barbados's and Jahoel's, he closes the drawer and moves the boy's boots over to lay on the matt by the door, next to his and Jahoels, he shakes his head at the sight of the other boy's boots, he's in for another scrubbing once he manages to find him, he picks up Barbados's discarded socks and crosses over to throw them in the hamper.

"Honestly," he mumbles to himself fondly as he finally picks up his book from his bedside table and slides into bed next to his half asleep newest little family member. "It's like I've opened a home for wayward little scamps."

The older angel looks over when he feels the blankets rustle slightly, and rolls his eyes fondly, he reaches out, pulling the former little spy closer. Rizoel yelps as he's tugged around, tucked against the older angel's side, and smiles, nuzzling closer.


	67. History Repeating Itself

He knows he shouldn't have tried it; he's heard rumors about what happens to those who try and escape, they were only rumors, but he didn't want to find out on his own. He's been here a few times, he's managed to annoy the man a number of times, his best was with the snake, he'd never have guessed the deep voiced Warden could scream so high before. He couldn't help it, he was going to be here for a while, he had to find entertainment somehow, and if it just so happened to be at his keepers expense, then so be it, it just made it even better in his opinion.

He never got mad at him for it, annoyed sometimes, but never mad. He took it all in good spirits most of the time and dished back just as well as he received, though his revenge was always in different methods then his own, it was still all in good fun.

He tugged fruitlessly at the binds around his ankles and wrists, there was no give to his pull, and he was left to look around the room in silence. Candles and lamps illuminated the room, gray walls, a tapestry hanging over the table at his feet. His tunic, boots, and socks were folded nicely on the wooden table. He wiggles his toes slightly, looking up to the ceiling, he's been waiting here for at least twenty minutes, if not longer. He wishes he'd hurry up and get on with it.

He tenses at the sound of footsteps, boots clomping against the stone flooring, drawing closer and closer.

They stop right outside the door, and he watches from the table as the door handle turns, the doors pushed open as he steps in. The fingers of his right hand are curled around the handle of a bucket, and for a moment he wonders if he's going to be told to scrub the floors too, that wasn't fun, he didn't want to do that. Tucked under his arm was his file, it was thick with incident reports, though they were all in jest, they still had to be documented. The Warden was exasperated with him more times than not because of all the paperwork he had to fill out due to his _'adventures'_.

He closes the door behind him with a sharp click, and steps forward, he wiggles his fingers over his belly lightly as he comes to stand beside him, raising his right hand to set the bucket beside him, and he giggles, squirming under his playful torment. "Hey, Zophiel."

He smiles up at him, and the Warden returns it in kind. "Hehehehey Thaddy!"

A finger pokes into his belly button and he shrieks lightly, giggling hysterically at it, and the Warden chuckles softly as he pulls back, opening the file he carries with him and sets it over his bare belly. "You make this file fall and these papers spill out everywhere, and I'll blow as many berries over that little button as I want, you understand me?"

Zophiel giggles at the thought of it and nods quickly, not those, not yet.

"So, attempting to escape, that's a new one for you." He wiggles a finger into his side, and he bites back a shriek, mentally keeping himself from squirming away, that file is laying precariously over his belly, any sudden movements will knock it off, and Thaddy totally knows this and is totally cheating. "What's up, Zoph, why'd you pull a runner on me?"

He shrug carefully. "Chahahahange of scenery?"

"Change of scenery, huh?" That wiggling finger slides carefully up under the file and pokes into his belly button again, he bites his lip to keep himself from shrieking again, and he kicks his feet, but his torso doesn't move. Thaddy is _so_ trying to get him to drop the file. "You've been here for a while, haven't you, and you still have quite some time to go. Do you have any remorse for your wrongdoing?" He was something akin to a traitor, he'd given papers over to the other side like Barbados, but unlike the other boy, these ones had been of importance. Michael had been furious and sentenced him indefinitely, Zophiel had been here for quite a length of time, and he wouldn't be leaving for a while either. He nods his head, though he liked being with Thaddy, he was nice to him, playful, he missed being on the outside, not staring at the same four walls day in and day out. He'd started marking how many days he'd been here on the wall of his cell with little scratches. Three hundred and seventy-two days, not including those he had been here that had gone unrecorded, he'd been here for over an entire year of his life, and there was no end in the near future.

Thaddeus sighs softly, withdrawing his finger, he knew all the pranks and acting out was because the young angel was bored, he'd been staring at the same four walls for over a year, and Michael hadn't given him an end time either, he was here indefinitely at the moment. "I'll talk to Michael and see what I can do."

Zophiel smiles up at him in appreciation, the Warden's been known to be able to persuade the Archangel to lift sentences, there was hope that he would manage to get his lifted, and he'd be free again. The taste of freedom was so close.

The Warden snatches his file up and closes it swiftly, leaning over to toss it on the wooden table with his boots, socks, and tunic. He smiles as he turns back to him and a smile creeps over his face at the Warden's smile, this is where the fun begins, Thaddy had a great sense of humor.

"You missed bath time with that stunt, Zoph."

He shrugs lightly. "I get to be a stinky boy now."

Thaddeus pokes him on the nose lightly. "Oh, no you don't. Bath time is for everyone, not matter if it's missed or not, you're still getting bathed." He rolls his sleeves up and reaches into the bucket, withdrawing a bar of soap and a scrub brush, Zophiel stares at the brush in horror, he knows the scrub brush well, he has a habit of running around barefoot, Thaddy doesn't like it when you run around barefoot. "I thought that I'd be of assistance to this matter." He rubs the soap and brush together, the bristles turning white with suds from the soap, he drops the bar back into the bucket of water and steps around him, taking the bucket with him, he positions himself above his head, and Zophiel watches him go with wide eyes, he's watching that brush like a hawk, not letting it out of his sight, as though he can make it disappear by shear will power alone. His grace is useless, there are runes carved into the walls that prevent the prisoners from using theirs, but the Warden and guards can, they're allowed. "We'll start with these little armpits, they look like they could use a good scrubbing, and I've had practice at giving little angels good scrubbings."

Zophiel shrieks when he slowly begins lowering the scrub brush towards his bare armpit, it's going to be so bad, he knows it is, and tugs desperately at his arm, but it's fruitless and he knows this. "NO! No Thaddy! Let's talk about this! Get it away! Keep it away from there! Nohohho!" The boy squeals loudly when the brush touches down and begins scrubbing around his right armpit, screaming with laughter as he shakes his head, his fingers spreading wide, straining even, as he falls still from shock for a moment, and then he starts twisting and turning frantically, he's going to make this no easy task.

Thaddy only chuckles. "You better hold still, or I'll hold you still myself."

He doesn't listen though; he just squeals and shrieks and laughs his little angel heart out as that scrub brush tortures his armpit to pieces. The Warden leans forward, pressing his hand to the little prisoner's chest, and Zophiel falls still, screaming brightly when he finds that he can't move, this isn't fair, at least let him squirm around, Thaddy's holding him in place with his grace. "I think my warning being unheeded deserves some kind of consequence." He twists his free hand around in a semi complicated gesture, and he feels his eyes widen as a second brush appears, precovered in soap, and it touches down to his left armpit. Two brushes is unfair, Thaddy is being unfair, but all he can do is squeal again, straining to twist around under the weight of the Warden's grace, screaming with hysterical laughter, he squeals and shrieks with laughter, shaking his head desperately, his arms are unbound from the grace hold, and he shakes his arms and pulls desperately, his fingers spreading wide and straight as he kicks his feet feverishly. Thaddeus chuckles down at him. "Oh, don't worry, we'll get those dirty little feet next." He leans over him as he cackles loudly. "They could do with a good scrubbing too."

…

He waits in anticipation when the door at the end of the hall opens and the sound of boots steps in, the door closes again with a loud creak the lock clicks loudly into the keeper, this is it, this is when he gets told he's free, that Michael is showing mercy and allowing his release. He's been here for almost two years, this is it, this is the end. He's getting out. He's not going to be locked in these cells anymore, behind these bars, staring at the same three walls, he's going to be outside, doing as he pleases, he's going to be _free_. He knows he is. He can feel it in his gut. He can have his favorite fruits again and his favorite juices and his favorite meals. He can sleep in his own bed again and wear his own clothes. He's getting out. He has to. It's been nearly two years.

Thaddeus comes to stand before his cell, reaching for the keys on his belt, part of him wants to rush forward, ask which lines he has to sign, if he's getting the clothes back that he wore in here, when he's allowed to go. Is he going tonight? In the morning? He's okay with either one, he can wait one more night, he's waited nearly six hundred of them.

He stares at the man as he steps into his cell, leaving the door open, because he's leaving, he's coming to guide him out, that's why the cell door is open still, because he's going to be walking out of it a free man. Child? Teenager? Who cares, it's all semantics, all that matters is that he's going to be free.

"When am I going?" He asks excitedly, shaking with anticipation, it's almost over. "Am I going tonight?"

He stares at him intently as the Warden kneels in front of him, reaching out to curl his fingers around his knees, he feels something inside slipping, this wasn't how he imagined it would go, this wasn't right, Thaddy should be smiling, Thaddy should be congratulating him, leading him out of the cell to sign the release forms. "Zoph…." His eyes shine with sympathy instead of happiness for him, and he feels his throat start to close, this isn't how it's supposed to go. "Zoph, I tried to convince him, I told him of your remorse and your good behavior, I did, I tried as hard as I could, I promise you that I did."

_No_. He inhales a shaky breath as his mind tries to wrap around what he's being told, his excitement is starting to collapse around him, shattering into a thousand pieces. _No_. "I—I'm not getting out, a—am I?"

"Zoph, I'm so sorry."

_No._ "B—But he always l—listens to you. Y—You always get them ou—out." _Not this time though._ His voice cracks slightly. "I—I was supposed t—to get out. I—I was supposed to g—go. I'm re—really sorry a—about what I did. D—Does he know? Di—Did you tell him?"

"I did, Zoph, I told him about how sorry you were."

He inhales another shaky breath, he feels the hot tears trailing down his face, his excitement completely gone, laying around him in shattered pieces. "D—Did he sa—say whe—when?"

Thaddeus sighs sadly, reaching up to caress his cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs, though he knows more will only follow once he answers. "No." He shakes his head sadly. "He did not."

"I—I'm really, really so—sorry, though! I—I won't ev—ever do it a—again!" He reaches up to curl the fingers of his shaking hands around the Warden's wrists. "Y—You have to t—tell him, Th—Thaddy! If—If he kn—knows he's s—sure to l—let me go!"

"I did tell him, Zoph, I tried to convince him, I told him everything." His heart breaks as he looks into those tear filled wide eyes, he has no end time to offer, Michael hadn't given one, _when I'm satisfied_ , that's what he had said, and looking into the raw devastation it left in its wake, Thaddeus curses him for it. Michael is fair, what Zophiel had done was detrimentally destructive, but there was no lesson to be taught in keeping someone behind these bars indefinitely, it only caused more harm then it would good. Michael _can_ be cruel. Extremely cruel. "I'm so sorry, Zoph, I'm so sorry."

Zophiel stares between his eyes, looking between them both, looking for any indication of falsehood, and when he finds none he crumbles, his face falls, it crumbles to a thousand pieces, just like his excitement and happiness had, as a sob rips from his throat. _He's not leaving, ever, he's going to be here forever_. That's the mantra that spins through his mind as he sobs himself hoarse, collapsing forward, the Warden catches the youth, curling one arm around him and his other hand around the back of his head, as the boy sobs into his chest. Zophiel had made one mistake, one very bad mistake, and he was paying the ultimate price for it.

Like he said, Michael can be cruel.

His arms wrap limply around his neck, as he curls his fingers under his thighs, lifting him up as he stands. This is the part that breaks his heart, prisoners with indefinite sentences are rare, extremely rare, even those in solitary have an end date, and in his opinion they're the worst. Though they never go back to the rest of society, most meet the same fate the Mindbreaker did, it wasn't fair to the others who's crimes had been horrid, yes, but not as much as _theirs_ had been. He stands with the boy in his arms, holding him close, as he sobs himself hoarse into the side of his neck.

Turning, he carries the broken boy from the cell, turning slightly to the guard stationed there. "Gather his things and bring them upstairs. Then you will go to the bazaar, he is a medium, get him four tunics and four pairs of knee-high trousers. He needs boots. Size six. Be sure to get him undergarments." He looks down at the broken boy for a moment. "And, get him a stuffed bear."

The guard nods quickly, stepping into the cell they'd just vacated, gathering the prisoners things up from within. He leaves the guard to it, his guards are very self-sufficient, he'll be up to drop the things off when he's through. He'd have to expand the upstairs again, when the boy was able to be on his own, this was the time he could not be, there was no telling what a distraught broken boy could do to relieve their pain. He'd made a room for his other three boys, it was small, there was a bunkbed and a standard twin, a desk and three small wardrobes. He'd made a room for his girl and little boy, for their privacy, a large queen for them, two small wardrobes and a desk. A fireplace for each room, bed side tables, extra blankets and pillows. He'd have to get another bunkbed for the boys room once Zophiel could be on his own again.

Thaddeus carries the boy upstairs, one arm curled under his bottom and the other hand pressing him close to the side of his neck as he sobbed deeply, babbling about how he was never getting out, he was going to be here forever, and other inaudible nonsense between his harsh sobs. It was wrong for the fun-loving child to be so upset, to have this many tears, he'd never seen him this upset before, sure, there were moments when his indefinite sentence got to him, but never like this. He had gotten his hopes up, not thinking that the outcome might not be one he wanted, and it had broken him for not preparing for it.

He'd tried his hardest, Zophiel was right, Michael did listen to him, for the most part, and he usually did grant his request for early release. Release, at all. But what Zophiel had done was still a sore spot, they _had_ lost a number of good men from his error in judgement, he understood Michael's anger, his rage, but this was cruel to a young impressionable boy. Yes, it had been an extremely damaging error in judgement, but to keep him here indefinitely, that was going much too far, in his opinion.

He had not left the room quietly, respectfully, both Michael and Nisroc had watched him leave in a small rage, swiping the things off the Archangels desk, spitting out that he was a cruel bitter angel, that it was a good thing he did not have a youngling of his own, he'd only break them. He'd been enraged, he understands the punishment must be harsh, due to the consequences of the infraction, but at least have the heart to give him an end date to look forward to. He'd slammed the door behind him, hearing Nisroc apologize for his behavior, promising it would be rebuffed, but he paid it no mind as he made his way down the hall from the Archangel's office.

Nisroc had been waiting for him at the entrance of the Prison, he'd clearly flown over to beat him there, and tried to stop him, to confront him about his behavior. But he'd shoved passed him, spitting at him that he was just as cruel as _his_ Archangel was if he wouldn't defend a mere boy. Yes, he understands the gravity of his crime, but Zophiel was a boy, a young boy who should not have to spend the rest of his life behind the bars of a cell because of _one_ mistake. He'd shoved passed the Captain, telling him to get off his property, that he had prisoners to take care of, because if no one else would, then _he_ would. The guards had been hesitant to do so, but he ordered them to close the door, closing it in the shocked Power's face.

He knew his anger and rage had been understood, but there would be consequences for his blatant disrespect, he'd lost his temper horridly, and he knew Nisroc would give him time to take care of the things that needed to be taken care of, but that he would be back, and with him would come the consequences of his actions. Nisroc was _technically_ his boss. He may be the Warden of the Prison, but even he had someone he answered to, and that was Nisroc.

He paid it no mind though as he pushed open his bedroom door with his elbow and carried the broken _child_ in. Thaddeus carries him over to the bed, uncurling his hand from behind his head to allow him the ability to pull the blankets back, perhaps putting him to sleep was an escape, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. He leans over, laying the boy in the bed, resting his head against the pillows. Zophiel refuses to let go at first, and it breaks his heart when his sob hitches midway through when he reaches back to pry his fingers apart. "I'll be right back. I'll only be a moment, just a moment, and I'll be back."

That didn't seem to comfort the young angel, but he allowed him to stand back up, sobbing again as he crossed over to the cupboard beside his fireplace. He opens the door and reaches in, he keeps them right up front, they're the ones he uses the most, and picks out a sleeping drought from the stash. Leaning over he unties his boot laces, toeing them off where he stands, he pushes them over to his desk with his right foot, and sets the little bottle of medicine down to undo the belt from around his waist.

Nisroc was surely bringing the belt with him when he saw him next.

It would be sooner rather than later.

But he pushed those thoughts out of his mind as he takes the small bottle back in hand and returns to the young angels side, climbing into the bed beside him, he pulls him close, letting him reach up to cling to his tunic, breathing out another sob.

Just another broken child left to him because of one, _one_ , mistake.

Thaddeus strokes Zophiel's left cheek softly with a finger. "Zoph, I know you're upset, and you have every right to be, but you're going to make yourself sick if you keep going on like this." He reaches down with his free hand to press his palm to his chest. "You need to calm down, everything will be alright, I'll take care of you, you need to calm down." Zophiel seems to struggle, but he does take into account that he most certainly tries, and he appreciates the effort. "Take a deep breath for me, can you do that for Thaddy?" Zophiel nods, sucking in a deep breath mid sob, it cuts off quickly. He holds it, staring up at him with wide watery eyes, and he waits a minute before he tells him to let it go. They do it twice more, until the sobs die in his chest and he just hiccups softly as his lungs begin to fill again with much needed oxygen. He strokes his curls back, and caresses his left cheek, rubbing it with his thumb again.

"Unfortunately, you can't leave." The boy stutters a hiccup. "But, _but,_ " he rubs his cheek again. "You're going to come up here and stay with me, until I deem it well enough to move you to the boy's room, you'll have to share unfortunately, not much space to go around, I can only expand the upstairs so much, okay?" Zophiel sniffles, hiccupping softly, he looks like a fledgling. "You're not going back to a cell, you'll stay here, I'm going to have someone go get your proper clothing so you don't have to wear those prison uniforms anymore, you can't leave this building, but you are free to roam, if there is something you want then you just ask me and I will go get it myself or send one of my guards to do so, alright?" The boy nods again, still clutching to his tunic. "I'm sorry that I can't free you for real, I would, I would in a heartbeat, I _know_ how sorry you are, I _do_. But my hands are tied. I technically can't. However," he strokes his cheek again when a stray tear escapes from his eye, he strokes the tear up. "However, I'm going to give you as much freedom as I can while being confined to this building, you'll have a guard escort with you at all times, the others do too, and you can go anywhere you want except for the Solitary block, that part is blocked off. Do you understand?"

Zophiel nods again, hiccupping softly once more, and he pulls the small bottle up, uncapping it, he holds it out to the boy's lips. "Drink this for me, you need a good rest after that, and you'll get it." Zophiel eyes it. "I promise to wake you up for supper, I will cook it while you're asleep, we're having chili, perfect for this kind of weather, chili and corn bread." The boy nods lightly, opening his mouth, allowing the Warden to pour the contents of the bottle in. He swallows it, smacking his lips lightly, making a slight face at the aftertaste, and it takes a few moments, but his eyes begin to flutter. He urges him into sleep gently, stroking his cheek tenderly, softly whispering to him encouragements.

He stays at his side until he knows the boy is asleep, and then he carefully crawls out of bed, tucking the blankets around him, he crosses around to the kitchenette, stokes the fire into a nice cooking fire, and silently begins preparing their meal. He checks on him every so often, to make sure he's still asleep, and smiles when he doesn't move, sleeping peacefully, he wheezes softly as he breaths in and out, his nose still stuffy from his breakdown earlier.

Suppers done sooner then he expected it to be, and he presses a finger over his lips, silently commanding them to be silent as the other kids line up for their heaping helping. They all look over to the new boy sleeping in the Warden's bed, and nod, they remember when they were first taken in, it's harder for some and easier for others.

They all exit silently, back to their rooms to eat, as to not disturb their new family member, and he stirs the chili in the pot lightly, before taking a seat on the other side of the bed, pulling a book over, he'll let the boy sleep a bit longer, the chili and corn bread will stay warm until he wakes him up. He needs a good rest after everything, the first step to mending a broken heart, it all started with a good rest.

…

He doesn't mind that Zophiel seemingly clings to him after that, always huddling against his side, clutching at his sleeve, fingers curling in the belt around his waist, he's reverted to a fledgling like state in his grief, and he allows him to cling on as much as he needs to. He finds himself working most days with the boy straddling his lap, legs hanging around either side, feet dangling, curled up against his shoulder, one hand clutching at the front of his tunic and his other arm curled tightly around his stuffed bear. The stuffed animal had become a constant companion for the boy, he brought it with him wherever he went, he had not been wrong in ordering the guard to get him one those weeks ago.

His nose is stuffy this time, another episode, he's fallen into a sort of depressive state, but he's here, he'd not letting the boy go for anything short of a riot. He'd managed to pull him down in this position, straddling his waist, as he leans back slightly in the chair behind his desk, pulling the boy to rest against his shoulder, he cried himself to sleep, wheezing softly in his slumber, curled against the Warden, his teddy bear hugged close with the arm that wasn't wrapped limply around the older angel's chest.

That's how Nisroc comes to find them. Zophiel sound asleep, and him leaning back in his chair, writing up an incident report for the fight that had broken out between two prisoners in solitary with one hand, and rubbing at the boy's back with the other. The door to his office opens silently and he looks up, expecting to see one of his other kids and their escort or one of his guards, but when it's Nisroc who pokes his head in, he grunts softly, as to not disturb his kid sleeping against his chest, and looks back down to his paperwork.

"Thaddy, may I come in?"

"The doors already open, so you might as well." There's still a rough patch between them all. They've had a few come for asylum since the whole event those weeks ago, and he's been doing all his speaking through the Healer, he keeps himself and his kids, official or not, here. And, if any of the others have a problem with it, he doesn't give a flying rats ass, they can shove it up their ass and keep it there. He presses a kiss to the side of Zophiel's head, _especially_ Michael. "But keep it quiet, I just got him to sleep, I don't want to have to do it again."

Nisroc nods in understanding, closing the door behind him, crossing over to take a seat on the other side of the desk. Thaddeus spares him a single glance as he continues his work, and rubbing at Zophiel's back, he meant what he said, the poor boy had cried himself to sleep, he didn't want him to have to do it again. "I see you've taken the boy in."

He spares him a heated glare. " _I_ won't _abandon_ him like _everyone else_ has."

"He's hardly been abandoned—"

" _Hasn't he?"_ He hisses quietly, dropping his pen on his desk, he turns quickly, shushing the younger angel when he murmurs against his shoulder, stroking his hair and urging him back to sleep, then he turns back to the Power. "It's been nearly two _years_ since he first came, and we _still_ haven't been given a determined _sentence_. He's just waiting here, wasting away, while Michael twiddles his thumbs up his ass and can't get over _one_ mistake. As though _he's_ perfect. Zophiels actions did take the lives of twelve men, yes, but how many lives are stained on _his_ hands."

"He is a traitor."

"So is your precious _Sablo_." He spits out, it catches the Captain by surprise, and he's happy to see that he grows tense at the calling of the youngest Power's name, they all know how fond he is of the boy. "He gives away our secrets all the time on his little missions to the other side." He brushes Zoph's curls back and rests his chin on the side of his head. "The _only_ difference between the two is that one had permission while the other did not. How many lives have been lost because of the information he's given out?" He stares at him harshly. "Does that make _him_ a traitor?"

Nisroc stares at him for a long moment, he can see that the Warden is clearly passionate about this, he always has been when he feels as though his prisoners are being abused or neglected. Though the situation was vastly different, he had to acknowledge that there had been a point made in that statement, Sable _does_ give away information when he's out playing his role on the other side.

He sighs, leaning over, rubbing his fingers over his mouth. "Thaddy, I acknowledge that there's a point there, but those are two vastly different scenarios."

"If you've come here just to _defend_ Michael, then you know where the door is," Thaddeus jerks his chin towards the door behind the Power. "You can leave."

"Thaddy," he rubs at his forehead this time. "I did not come here to do that. Thaddy, the boy did wrong, yes, but Michael's decision stands."

"Michael's _decision_?" He barks a soft bitter laugh. "There was no _decision_ that was made. We're all still waiting on his _decision_." He shakes his head. "Tell me, does this look like a bad guy to you?" He turns slightly, revealing the sleeping boy's peaceful face to the Power. "Does this look like a traitor?" Zophiel looks like a fledgling when he sleeps, especially when he sleeps with his bear, which he is now, all cuddled up against the Warden's shoulder, his teddy bear pressing up under his nose, as he sleeps blissfully unaware to the conversation around him. "This is a boy. A c _hild._ Who made _one_ fatal mistake, and Michael, _Michael_ , is perfectly happy to just lock him away and throw away the key without second thought."

Nisroc stares at the sleeping boy for a long time, at his peaceful face, listening to the soft wheeze through his stuffy nose, to the bear he curls against his face, and he sighs deeply, rubbing his face lightly with his right hand. "Thaddy, there's nothing that can be done."

"You didn't even _try_." Thaddeus is having none of it, Zophiel is one of his kids now, and he takes care of his kids. "You didn't even _try_ and defend him. You just stood there, nodding along, you didn't say _anything_. You could have done _something._ You're supposed to protect those, defend those, that can't do so for themselves." He shakes his head. " _But_ you didn't do anything for this one."

Then he says something that leaves his mind in shambles. "Gadreel was here for as long as he was because Michael _forgot_ about him," he turns back to face the oldest Power. "Are you really going to let that happen to another one?"


	68. Passing The Test

"Alright, Qaspiel," he follows the Warden to his office door, where they stop, and he looks up as the tall man turns to look down at him. "This is your first test to see if you're cut out for this guard escort business. Your charge, Zophiel, is in my office. Today's been a rough day, he's been hanging out with me all day, and I went through some discharges. I'm assuming Tus filled you in on the circumstances?"

The young guard nods affirmatively. "He did. Zoph is an undetermined prisoner."

"Correct, as I'm sure you can imagine, watching others go free while he himself cannot, has taken a toll on his mood. As his escort, you need to be able to take care of him while I'm not around to do so, and that includes keeping him in good spirits." Thaddeus crosses his arms lightly. "So, he's rather upset, as I'm sure you can imagine, and I'm leaving it up to you to cheer him up."

"But…" Qaspiel rubs at his arm meekly. "But, what if I can't."

"I have faith in you, from what I've heard, you're rather creative." The older angel rubs his hands together lightly. "Let's see some of those creative juices in action."

Qaspiel nods firmly, rubbing his own hands together, wracking his brain for ideas. None were forthcoming presently, what was something that could bring a smile to someone's face no matter the circumstance. His face brightens up as an idea finally comes to him, the Warden smiles at him as he witnesses it, and nods encouragingly. "Let's see it, then, I like that look that came to those eyes."

The young guard nods, rolling his shoulders slightly, the Warden hums in amusement as the guard shimmers, his form changing, and when the shimmer dies down, in his place stands a fluffy puppy. "Oh, smart pup." He pushes the door open silently, nodding him in, and the puppy trots through the crack in the door. He turns to watch in the doorway as the puppy trots across the floor of the office and hops on the boy sitting on the dog bed, nudging his hands away with his small snout, climbing up to sit in the younglings lap, the puppy begins licking his cheeks, licking away the tears.

He smiles as his boy stares at the puppy in surprise, the pup focused on his mission of clearing the tears away, and Zophiel slowly starts to smile, soft giggles replacing his soft hiccups, as he turns his face from one side to the other, trying to evade the puppy's dutiful tongue. The puppy huffs lightly, jumping up, resting it's two front paws over his shoulders, and continues to lick at his cheeks until all the signs of tear tracks are gone. Zophiel smiles at the puppy, curling his fingers in the fluffy fur on the back of his neck, and the puppy pulls away, staring at him with his bright blue eyes. Zophiel squeaks in surprise when the puppy leans forward and licks his nose playfully.

"Hi, puppy." The puppy barks brightly, licking his nose again, and he giggles brightly, rubbing at the puppy's soft fuzzy fur. "It's nice to meet you."

"You like him, Zoph?" The boy looks up at the sound of his name, seeing his guardian, his Thaddy, standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, and he smiles, nodding up at the Warden. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, that's you escort."

Zophiel looks up at him again, putting his fingers over the puppy's head. "A puppy?"

"He's a guard, in hound form, he's young, so he's still just a puppy."

"And," the youngling looks back at the puppy, giggling again when it licks him on the nose once more, and pets his pointed ears down. "He's _my_ guard?"

Thaddeus nods. "Yes, he is," he smiles at the two of them. "I have the feeling that you two will get along just fine."

…

Zophiel spends most of his time in the Warden's office, he's still a bit clingy, but has managed to separate himself from the older angel's side just a bit, staying within the room, but not attached at the hip.

He smiles over his paperwork as he listens to the boys soft giggling, the puppy's soft growling, both of them tugging at a length of rope, shaking his head as the youngling tumbles back, the mischievous puppy (he knew there was a reason they got along so well at first sight) letting go of his end, and he watches as the puppy jumps forward, plopping down over his boy, and starts licking all over his face. Zophiel shrieks, giggling feverishly as he shakes his head, scrunching his face up, the puppy barks between licks, nuzzling his snout over the side of the boys neck.

"Qasp! Qasp!" The boy shrieks when the big puppy licks at the side of his neck. "I give! I give! You win!"

Qaspiel barks in triumph, laying on the boy's chest, he lays down on his front paws. The boy tangles his fingers in the puppy's long fluffy fur. "Want to take a nap?"

The puppy barks softly, licking his cheek, and hops off his chest. The puppy curls up first on the Warden's large dog bed, and the boy follows after him, crawling forward, he curls himself around the puppy.

He smiles to himself as he returns to his paperwork, he knew they were a perfect pairing, that puppy did his boy so much good.

…

The Warden looks up at the soft sigh, looking over to the boy and puppy, sitting in front of the window and looking out.

Zophiel presses his hand to the glass sadly. "I wish we could play in the snow…."

He frowns at the sadness in the boys voice, he tries to make his stay here as pleasant as possible, but he wasn't blind to his pain, watching as the others got to leave at their volition while he was left behind, the only solace he had was the Warden and his guard escort. Qaspiel did him such good, he entertained the boy, kept his mind off the matter at hand.

"Hmmm," both puppy and boy turn to look at him at his humming. "Well, there _is_ a little-known atrium out back."

Zophiel's eyes widen and he hops around. "Can we go play out in the atrium?" Qaspiel barks brightly, sitting back on his two back legs, batting his front paws out at him. "Can we! Oh, please, Thaddy! Can we!"

He sets his pen down and leans to rest on his elbows over his desk. "Well, as long as you stay _inside_ the atrium and you two bundle up, I don't see why not."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" The boy bounces forward, the puppy at his side hops down from the chair it had been sitting on before the window and follows after him, as he bounces across the office to hug the Warden tightly. "You're the best, Thaddy! The best!"

"I try." Thaddeus looks down at the puppy. "Qasp, I give you permission to bite anyone who tries to touch him." Not many knew of the atrium out back, and it was gated, for the most part, but you could never be too cautious. The puppy barks firmly, batting at his boot, and Zophiel kisses him on the cheek excitedly as he jumps back. "Come on, Qasp!"

He shakes his head as the two of them run from the office, he hears boots and paws padding up the stairs to the right and the door to his living space slams open. There's silence for a brief period, and then boots and paws are coming back down the stairs, and they're back. Zophiel is all bundles up in a coat, hat, scarf, and mittens. Qaspiel has a small jumper on over his fur and little mittens on his paws.

Thaddeus smiles at them both, nodding in approval. "Good to go." He waves them both away lightly. "Have fun."

They bolt from his office, laughing and barking as they run down the hall, and Zophiel throws the back doors open widely, running out into the cold snow that surrounds them. He throws a handful of snow above his head, and Qaspiel jumps forward, jumping to catch the clumps in his mouth, the young prisoner laughs brightly as he rounds a snowball between his mitten coated hands and he tosses it above his head, laughing brightly as the puppy jumps up on it's hind two legs to catch it.

Zophiel flops backwards into a pile of snow, waving his arms and legs around, an angel making a snow angel, what was funnier then that. Nothing more ironic. The puppy barks happily and hops forward, hoping between his foot prints, and rolls around next to him, an angel hound making a snow angel hound, ha!

They play well until the sun starts to set, and the doors thrown open again, the Warden steps out slightly, holding the door open. "Okay, you little rascals, you've been out here for a while now, come inside and have some hot cocoa and milk." Zophiel and Qaspiel exchange looks, and chase after the Warden, running under his arm as they reenter the Prison, shaking off the snow clinging to their coats, and stomping the snow off their feet. They follow after Thaddeus as he leads them back down to his office, and step under his arm again as he opens the door for them, sitting on his desk is a mug of steaming hot cocoa and next to the large dog bed, pulled up to rest by the fire, is a bowl of warm milk.

The boy makes for the hot cocoa and the puppy for the warm milk, drinking it up greedily, Zophiel raises his mug slightly as his guardian reaches under his arms for the zipper of his coat, pulling it down. He sets his mug down as the Warden pulls his coat off, hanging it on the hook before the fireplace to dry. "Kick off those boots and shuck out of those trousers." Zophiel nods, unbuttoning his trousers and toeing off his boots, the Warden sets his boots next to the fireplace and hangs his trousers next to his coat. "Alright, you two curl up by the fire, I've got a few more things to finish before we can all head to bed."

Zophiel nods, Qaspiel is still lapping up his warm milk, and the boy slowly makes himself comfortable on the large dog bed, curling up on his side. The puppy finishes his drink, licking his nose clean, and climbs under the boy's arm as he joins him on the large plush bed. Thaddeus shakes his head at the two of them, his heart soaring with the knowledge that he had made his boy's day better, and shakes out a blanket to lay over top of two of them.

…

"I told you that you stayed out too long."

Zophiel sniffled miserably, rubbing his nose with his sleeve, cuddling under the blankets as they're pulled up under his chin. "But it was fun!"

"I know it was fun." The Warden presses the back of his hand to one of the boy's flushed cheeks. "But you've gone and given yourself a cold."

They both turn at the sound of the door opening, and smile in greeting to the young guard that enters, Zoph waves excitedly. "Hi, Qasp!"

"Hi, Zoph!" The guard waves back just as excitedly, two peas in a pod, these two. "I heard you went and got yourself sick."

"It's just a small cold!" Though, he pauses to cough into his elbow. "I'll be better in no time!"

"Yea, right!" The guard waves at him. "You're as sick as a dog!"

"You would know!" The boy shoots right back. "You are one!"

Thaddeus shakes his head at the two of them, looking back at the guard for his retort.

Qaspiel points a finger at his charge. "Watch it buster, don't think I won't get you just because you're sick!"

Zophiel giggles softly, coughing into his hand, and cuddles back against the pillow. "Qasp, will you stay with me?"

"Of course, I will, little guy." The guard steps forward, shimmering as he does, and the fluffy puppy jumps up on the bed, crawling up under the boy's arm, licking his nose lightly before laying with him.

"You get some sleep." Thaddeus strokes his hair back. "I'll come up with some soup and crackers for lunch."

Zophiel nods sleepily, nuzzling down into the fluff of the puppy's neck, his eyes fluttering.

The Warden smiles down at the two of them and stands, moving the empty bottle of tonic from the bedside table to the desk, and then he makes his leave, closing the door behind him.


	69. A Boy And His Puppy

Thaddeus looks up at the sound of his door opening, smiling in greeting to the young guard that steps in, nodding towards the bed where the guard's charge still lays sleeping. Nodding, the guard smiles, rolling his shoulders, and jumps forward. His form shimmers mid jump, and he tumbles as he lands on the bed, little ears twitching as he shakes his head, and he bounces up on the sleeping mound under the blankets. The figure under the blankets flails when he starts licking at his face, shrieking with laughter, the figure pushes themselves up, but the puppy is undeterred, standing on it's two hind legs, licking away at their face.

"I'm awake! I'm awake, Qasp!" The boy pushes at the hound. "I'm awake!"

The puppy bounces back, barking at him happily, and Zophiel throws the blankets away, he's still sleeping with Thaddy, but things are getting better. He opens his arms and the puppy jumps forward, tackling the boy back, and begins licking at his face again.

"Qasp! I'm awake! I promise, I'm awake!" He shrieks with laughter when the puppy turns, licking at his neck playfully. "Stop! Stop!"

"I think," Thaddeus finishes tying his left boot and sits back. "He's giving you a morning bath."

"But I took a bath last night!"

"Yes," he stands dusting his hands off on his trousers. "And, now you're having a bath in the morning."

…

"So, is this your new little guard?" The Healer gestures to the puppy, sitting next to the boy, staring at him as intently as a puppy can stare at someone, as he readies the syringe with the vaccine. "He seems very attentive."

Thaddeus chuckles, scratching a finger behind the puppy's ear, the puppy yaps and twists to nip at his finger. "He sure is. They're mighty fond of each other. Two peas in a pod, these two."

The Healer smiles at then, reaching out gently for the boy's arm, Zophiel whines softly at the sight of the needle and Qaspiel barks, bating the Healer's hand away with a paw. He stares at the puppy, reaching back out, his hand batted away again. "Thaddeus, is you guard batting my hand away?"

The Warden snorts, nodding his head. "He does the same thing when I have to bind Zoph's hands." He snags the puppy up by the scruff, the little thing kicks it's legs, squirming in his grip, and he curls the hound up against his side. "My apologies. Go ahead."

"Thaddy, no," the little prisoner leans away from the Healer this time, reaching for the puppy in his arms, and the Warden tilts his head down at him. "Give him back, I promise he'll be good this time, give him back."

"Alright, alright." He points at the puppy tucked in his arm. "You behave." Qaspiel licks at his finger.

He leans over and plops the puppy down in the boy's lap. The pup jumps up, his two front paws resting over the boy's shoulders, and he licks his nose.

The Healer takes that as his opportunity, poking the needle in the boy's arm, he hums when the little one squeaks, but the puppy draws his attention away from it, licking him on the nose again.

…

"Okay," the Warden sits on the edge of the bunk, tucking the blankets up under the boy's chin, brushing his curls back fondly. "I'm right across the hall, if you get scared during the night, I won't be mad, you come on over, alright?"

"Okay, Thaddy." Zophiel ducks under the blankets. "I don't wanna be alone."

Thaddeus smiles at him warmly. "You're not going to be alone." He gestures to the door, and as though on que, a familiar puppy comes trotting into the boys room. "Qaspiel said he'd stay with you the first couple of nights."

The boy smiles at the sight of the puppy, scooting over for it to jump up next to him, curling up along his side, he curls up with it, wrapping his arms around him as he cuddles down with his favorite friend. Thaddeus leans in, pressing a kiss to the boy's head first, and then one to his puppy companion. "You sleep well, boys, I'm right across the hall if you need me."

They both watch him stand, leaving the room, cracking the door behind him.

Zophiel leans into his puppy friend. "You'll stay the whole night, right Qasp?" The puppy barks softly, licking his cheek lightly, and lays it's head down beside him. "Thanks, Qasp, you're the best." The puppy licks his nose softly. "I love you, too."

The boy falls asleep, but the hound stays awake, standing guard while his boy is vulnerable, and thus he's the only one to see the door open again, soft light from across the hall pouring in, and he sits up as a figure enters.

He barks softly in greeting, a slight warning edge to his tone, and tilts his head at the sight of the Warden. Hair hanging down, wearing a long tunic, he crosses over to their bed. "Hey, pup." He pets his head gently. "Just checking in before I head to bed." He smiles at his boy, sound asleep, face pressed into his puppy's furry neck. "You're a good guard, Qasp." He pets the puppy's head again, kissing his snout softly. "I'm happy to have you close to my family, you're a part of it." The puppy barks softly, as to not disturb his boy, and licks the Warden's nose. Thaddeus chuckles, rubbing his face with his hand. "Even if you are a trouble maker."

…

The puppy huffed, sitting the large bucket of warm and soapy water, as the Warden scrubs his fingers through the puppy's thick fur. "Well, maybe you should have thought about the consequences before you two decided to play in that large mud puddle in the atrium." He pours a bucket of clean water over the puppy's head, rinsing the sudsy soap from his thick fur, the puppy turns to look up at him, and he smiles, leaning forward so the little hound could lick at his nose, as he knew the puppy wanted to. "It was me, or Tus, and I made the decision for you." He pours another bucket of clean water over his head. "You would have been in here a lot longer had I let Tus take charge over bathing you."

He finishes up after two more rinses, and lifts the puppy out of the bath, rubbing him dry with a thick towel. Qaspiel barks happily at the attention and he chuckles softly, pulling the towel up over his head. "You like that, Qasp?"

The puppy barks again, and he chuckles once more, curling his fingers around the puppy's midriff to lift him from the desk and set him on the floor. Qaspiel, the little rascal he is, rubs against his leg as to dry himself further. "Shoo, you mangy mutt." He kicks his leg playfully and the puppy bounces away, barking playfully. "I'm not a towel." The puppy bounces back, jumping up against his legs, he tugs playfully at the front of his tunic. "Oh, you want to be _that_ way, do you?" He scoops the puppy up into his arms, it barks again, licking at his cheek.

The Warden falls back to sit in his seat, cradling the puppy in his lap, he scratches at his belly playfully. "Tus told me _all_ about this belly's sensitivity issues." The puppy barks brightly, kicking and squirming, but he holds him in place with an arm wrapped around his lower waist. "How do you like that, huh?"

The door slams open. "All clean, Thaddy!"

Their boy runs in, curls still damp and cleared of all traces of mud, he laughs at the sight of his guardian and puppy guard, darting around the Warden's desk, he tugs his chair back. "Let him go, you fiend!" He shrieks, jumping away when the man reaches around for him. "Want me to get you instead?"

"No, no, you can keep Qasp!"

Thaddeus chuckles, having his fun with the mischievous puppy, before he lets him go. Qaspiel whines softly, plopping himself down dramatically, rolling over. "Oh, calm down, you're being over dramatic." He smiles up at his boy, waving him over, Zophiel bounces forward, crossing around to sit on the Warden's thigh.

The older angel kisses him on the cheek fondly. "Feeling better?" Zophiel nods, rubbing his finger over the golden band around the Warden's finger. He kisses him on the cheek again. "Good." He rubs their cheeks together and looks down at the puppy sitting beside them, watching over his boy diligently. "Why don't you two take a small nap, when I'm done, we can all move upstairs, and I'll read to you both." Zophiel nods lightly. "Can we nap with the blanket Puri made us?"

He chuckles. "You sure can."

Zophiel opens the bottom drawer of the Warden's desk, pulling the knitted blanket out, he bounces around the desk, to the side, where the large dog bed is pushed up under the window. "Come on, Qasp."

The puppy follows after him, crawling up beside him when the boy cuddles down, crawling up under the blanket and the boy's arm when he holds it up. They'll both wait as patiently as they have to for the Warden to read to them, they love listening to him read, his voice is calming.

Zophiel smiles to the puppy beside him. "Thanks for cheering my up, Qasp." The puppy barks softly, licking him on the nose, nuzzling against his cheek lightly. "You're my best friend."

The puppy barks again. _'You are my best friend too, Zoph.'_

"Woah!" His eyes widen. "You can talk!"

' _Telepathically. I've been learning more about my hound form. I wasn't sure I could do it at first, but I did!'_

"This is so cool, Qasp!"

The puppy barks softly, licking his nose again. _'You think this is cool, did you know that Thaddy was a hound too?"_


	70. All The Kings Men

After his meeting with Thaddeus, he sought out Tus, for his opinion on the matter at hand, Tus had always been their voice of reason, when Puriel was unavailable. He would know what to do with this matter of the heart, this was something bigger then him, this was him disobeying his commands, his turning on his Commander. Only one of the four Captains had turned their back on their Commander, Zaveriel, when he had asked to be taken back into the Healer's fold.

He turns the corner into the guards captain's room, standing in the doorway, he watches the younger Power play on the floor with his fledgling charge, and clears his throat to gain his attention.

"Tus, can I have a word with you?"

The younger Power nods, reaching out to pat the fledgling's cheek lightly. "Mihr, go play with Hasmal for a bit."

Hasmal made a wonderful babysitter.

The fledgling nods, picking his stuffed fish up off the floor beside him, he pushes himself to his feet and darts out of the room, Nisroc watches him go until he turns into Hasmal and Haniel's room, and then he steps into his brothers room, closing the door behind him.

Titus pushes himself up from the floor, his knees popping as he does, and pushes himself up to sit on the edge of his bed, gesturing for the older Power to sit in the desk chair just a pace to his side. Nisroc nods, crossing the room silently, sitting in the chair tenderly, he crosses his arms tightly, this whole ordeal has him in a precarious position, he's on edge, there are so many variables that play into this situation.

"What is on your mind, older brother?" The young Power's voice is like a pillar of light in the foggy deep, and he turns to him, staring into his concerned eyes. "There is a matter that is eating at you. How can I be of help?"

"Tus," he rubs at his temple. "I don't even know where to begin."

"The beginning is usually a good place to start."

He nods, pulling his hand away from his temple, he looks down to his knees. "I'm sure you've heard about the….. _Confrontation_ ….. That occurred in Michael's office the other day."

Titus nods lightly. "Of course, we all have, everyone heard it. It was not a quiet confrontation."

"About the boy…"

"Zophiel," he nods lightly, when the older Power looks up at him, he knows of the boy. "Qaspiel speaks of him quite often. They're good friends. Very close." He tilts his head. "What about him?"

"What are your opinions on him?"

"Well, I don't know him personally enough to draw a conclusive opinion," he rubs at his chin lightly. "But from what Qasp has shared, they're rather close, as I said, the boy confides in him things he wouldn't normally share with others. I think it's the puppy face that puts him at ease. Anyway, I don't know much about him." Titus tilts his head. "I think he is rather sad. Depressed even. Qaspiel won't go into detail, and I don't want to push, but the boy may be good enough a reason to hold concern. He's remorseful, he says so every day, multiple times."

"Because of him, we lost a number of good men."

Titus nods firmly. "I know we did. I helped train a number of them. I was enraged at first, I wanted him to suffer the same pain they did, but now that I see with a level head, all I see is a boy. A boy who made a grave mistake in a moment of weakness. One that he regrets, and I've seen it, Qaspiel tells me of his remorse every night. Now, I see a boy full of remorse who is wasting away. It's not noticeable, but Qaspiel is very perceptive, one of the most perceptive guards I've had in a long time. The boy is tearing himself a part, his guilt eats at him, his remorse consumes him, I see nothing but a broken boy trying to hold the pieces together with shaking hands."

Nisroc rubs at his chin thoughtfully. "What do you think of his sentence?"

"Sentence?" Titus shakes his head, his tone taking on a more biting edge to it, its clear to see how he feels about that matter. "There is no _sentence_. The sentence is still pending. Michael hasn't given one. And, I hate to admit it, but a part of me feels as though Michael will not give him one."

"You mean to say, that he would allow a youngling to sit in Prison, waiting for a sentence that never comes." The Captain leans forward. "Wasting away."

"I mean exactly that." Titus is undeterred, he's never been one to be ashamed in sharing his opinion, good or bad, and especially when he was passionate about it. "Michael is not infallible. He is not perfect, by any stretch the means, he is just as petty as the rest of us are. The only difference between us and him, is that he has the ability to ruin another's life through his pettiness, then we do. Tell me, I've seen a number of angels in there for experimentation get released, those who are charged with crimes against the Host, are released, does the crime of giving a single document over to the other side surpass those of experimentation?"

Nisroc stares at him but says nothing.

"I think Michael left us a long time ago. He is not the same archangel we knew before the wars. He is bitter, to an extent, and when someone crosses him personally, they face that wrath without remorse. Zophiel is remorseful for what he's done, barely sixteen years, and has already spent two years of his life sitting in a Prison cell waiting for a sentence that I don't believe it ever going to come." Titus crosses his own arms as he leans against the headboard. "So, if your asking if I think Michael would willing just lock someone up and throw away the key, then yes, I do. He's done it before. What's to stop him from doing it again?"

He hums lowly, nodding along, his brother made sense.

"I also think Michael is blind. Someone not even half his age snuck into his office, got into the locked cabinet he keeps the important documents and took one, then got away without him noticing, could be a very dangerous opponent to have. Zophiel is remorseful right now, yes, but there is nothing stopping that remorse from turning into resentment. Personally, though I hardly know of any training he has, we already know how swift he can be, I would not want to have him as my enemy."

"So," Nisroc rubs at his chin lightly. "If it came to defying a command and defending a traitor, which would you do?"

"Zophiel is far from a traitor, he gave information over in a moment of weakness, we don't know the reasoning as to why he did, the conditions that forced him to do so, all we know is that he did it. I don't think he is a traitor, he only did it once, if he was able to get into Michael's office, one of the most secure places in all of Heaven, then I have no doubt he would be able to get himself out of the Prison to do it again, but he doesn't, that is not the makings of a traitor." Titus rubs at his cheek lightly. "He is far from the first to give information over. Sablo is guilty of the same crime, does that make him a traitor? How about those who give away information under duress of torture? We don't know _why_ Zophiel did what he did, and until we do, it is wrong to pin him with that title."

"So, you would defend him?"

Titus nods, without hesitation. "I would. I have seen firsthand what becomes of those who are thrown in there and the key thrown away, though Thaddy makes it as hospitable as it can be, it's still a Prison. If Michael came to me and said to place Gadreel, or Abner, under arrest and escort them to the Prison, I would fight him tooth and nail to defend them. I would abandon my position to go with them." The younger Power purses his lips for a moment. "Until you've seen the way someone stares up at the sky, just to make sure that they remember what it looks like, at the end of every day, you won't know the true cost of keeping someone locked away without a determined sentence is." He shakes his head lightly. "I've seen it, Nisroc, and it is not something that should ever be placed upon another soul. So, yes, I would defend the boy. I would do whatever it took to help him."

…

Thaddeus looks up from the paperwork he's working on at the opening of his office door, beside him, Zophiel and Qaspiel pause in their playing at his entrance, both peeking up at him from behind the Warden's desk.

"Nisroc," he curls his hand over the boy's head. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to take the boy out for the day."

They all blink at him. "What?"

"I think the boy has been cooped up in here long enough." He gestures to the door. "I think he needs some time outside these walls."

Thaddeus narrows his eyes. "What about Michael?"

"If he comes across us," Nisroc nods lightly. "I'll handle him."

The Warden eyes him carefully, before turning to the boy at his side, ruffling his curls, he tilts his head back to see into his eyes. Zophiel was a sneaky little thing, but his eyes always gave him away, if he wanted the truth, he just had to look into his eyes. "How about it Zoph, do you want to go with him?"

Zophiel looks over at the Power before looking back to his guardian. "Is it a trick?"

That turns his attention back to the Power. "How about it, Nisroc, is this some elaborate trick?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I just want to help."

The Warden looks back to the boy at his side. "You don't have to go if you don't feel safe."

"Can Qasp come?"

He nods, ruffling his curls again. "I wouldn't allow you to go _anywhere_ with _him_ without Qasp at your side."

"Okay," Zophiel looks back up at the Power, then down to his puppy guard beside him, Qaspiel barks softly, licking him on the nose, and he nods. "I want to go."

Thaddeus nods, ruffling his curls one last time before he moves his hand, and nods towards the Power before them. "Stay at his side. Do whatever it is he tells you to do. Behave."

"I will, Thaddy." He pulls himself up to his feet, and the puppy jumps back, returning to all four paws, and follows him as he crosses out from behind the Warden's desk. Thaddeus watches them closely as the boy bounces cautiously to the Power Captain's side, Nisroc looks down at him, eyes searching for something, but he sighs, clearly not finding what he was searching for, and offers a kind smile. Zophiel returns his smile, slightly, he's never, and none of them can blame him for his nerves. Nisroc was breaking all sorts of rules for him.

Thaddeus clears his throat and they both turn to look at him. "Have him back by supper time."

Nisroc nods, gesturing for the boy to lead him out, and he does, his puppy companion at his side as faithfully as a puppy companion could be. He closes the door behind him, trying not to take note of the giddiness in the boy as they walk silently down the hall towards the outside world, he nods to the guards at the door when they make to stop the prisoner, and they stand back, letting the boy, his puppy, and the Power step out into the open.

He watches him as the boy looks up, squinting into the sunlit sky, eyes roaming over the great blue expanse, as though taking in the daytime sky, not wanting to miss a beat of it, wanting to remember it when it was taken away from him again, and he finds that Titus was right. There is something saddening in that small act. Something that everyone else took for granted was cherished by one who could only stare at stone walls, stone floors, stone ceilings, only imagining what the sky above must look like.

The puppy at his side barks, nudging the boy's hand with it's snout, and gestures to the Power behind them. Zophiel turns to look at him, eyes bright, wide, as he takes in his surroundings, wanting to see it all, so much to see and so little time.

Nisroc raises his head slightly. "Stay with me at all times, alright?" The boy nods, stepping back to stand at his side, and he pretends to not feel the fingers curl around his belt. "Where to first?"

Zophiel looks around again, smiling widely, eyes roaming over everything in their path. "Can we go to the Garden?" He looks up at the tall Power. "I haven't had _real_ fresh fruit in a long time."

He nods. "Let's go to the Garden." And takes a step forward, leading the boy to the edge of the stairs, taking them slowly, one at a time, as to not step too fast for the boy to keep up, they make their approach towards the Axis below. Zophiel wears normal clothes, not the Prison jumpsuits, so no one bats an eye at them as they step into the crowd. The puppy comes out from his side to trot in front of them as they meld into the crowd, walking side by side, he spares the boy a glance when he feels him step closer, but doesn't say anything, he _had_ told him to stay close after all.

They make a right turn, stepping into a dirt trail, that leads up to the Garden above, on a small incline. Zophiel looks around with wide eyes as he enters the Garden, wanting to take it all in, the atrium had some plants, but nothing was as grand as the Garden was. There was so many different plants, some big and some small, an assortment of different colors, it was all so beautiful.

Nisroc brings them to a stop and looks down at the boy. "Would you like some fruit?" He nods when the boy nods. "What kind of fruit?"

Zophiel thinks on it a moment, eyes all the lush trees. "Pineapple?"

"Pineapple it is." He follows at the Power's side as he steps forward, leading him down a dirt path, that turns to sand, and at the edge of a clearing they find a pineapple plant. He stands at his side as the Power bends over, twisting the fresh pineapple free, and nods forward before he takes a step, and follows after him when he does. Nisroc settles them in the sand of a crystal clear lake, the waves lapping at the shore gently, and he waits patiently as the Power peels the leaves off the stem of the pineapple, peels off the skin with the knife he keeps in his pocket, and he smiles as the Power passes it over to him.

Holding it carefully, he stares down at it, licking his lips longingly, he can't even remember the last time he got to have pineapple. His favorite fruit. It had been so long. He takes his first bite, and his eyes widen, tangy and tart, but sweet, and he hums in delight as he takes another bite.

Nisroc watches him carefully, he doesn't see what he had expected to see, his brother is right. He sees a boy. A boy who is immensely sad. Depressed even. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, he may have even successfully have hidden it from Thaddeus, but he can see it. He watches him eat his pineapple slowly, taking slow bites, chewing slowly, juice dripping down his arms and chin, wanting to savor it for as long as he can, and his heart aches just a bit. This _is_ just a boy. Younger then Sora. Younger then Sablo and Abraxas.

"Do you want to stay here for a bit?"

Zophiel nods, taking another bite of his pineapple, and he smiles slightly, the boy is turning into a mess of sweet sticky juice.

Nisroc sighs, looking down to his boots, if they're going to stay here, he's going to make himself comfortable, and he unties his boots so he can pull them off, following with his socks, and he rolls up his pant legs as he reclines back in the sand, waiting until the boy is finished with his pineapple.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees him finish up, wiping his juicy chin and lips clean with the back of his hand, he leans forward to pull his own boots off, and then his socks. His trousers stop just under the knee so that's fine to leave be.

"Can me and Qasp go play in the water?"

He nods his assent and opens his eyes to watch the boy and his puppy kick up sand as they fling themselves forward, jumping into the shallows, splashing water all around. The puppy barks and jumps around, beating his tail against the surface of the water, chasing the boy around in a make shift game of tag.

Closing his eyes once more, he drapes an arm over his face to block out the shining sun, and he sighs deeply as he gets comfortable on the lake shore.

Silence falls over the clearing, the splashing has stopped, and he hasn't known the boy long enough to know whether or not he should be weary, he just assumes they're sitting in the water now, watching the fish swim around them.

Nisroc yelps loudly at the sudden assault, cold water pours over his face, soaking his head and his front, and he flings himself up to wipe the water from his eyes before peering out. The boy stands just a pace away, most likely having jumped back, curling over himself as he laughs at the poor Power's predicament, his puppy stands at his side, bent in a playful way, tail wagging wildly, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth.

They think they're so funny.

He narrows his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet, and the boy slowly stops laughing, staring up at him with wide eyes as he stands to his full height, making to look as intimidating as he can manage. Zophiel squeaks softly and turns tail to run away, he jets forward, snagging the youngling up around the waist, leaning back to lift him off his feet. "You _little_ scamp!" He laughs again, kicking his feet out, curling his legs slightly as the Power carries him back towards the water. "Let me return the favor."

Nisroc walks them out until the water pools just above his knees, and turns, facing the shore once more, tightens his grip around the boy's waist, and leans backwards, falling back into the water. Zophiel shrieks as they fall, the water splashing wide as they both fall under, his fingers curling around the Power's crossed arms around his waist. They stay under for a moment, he can see his friend running out to them from under the clear water, he's changed from his hound form to his humanoid one. Nisroc stands again, regaining his footing, and stands quickly, tossing the boy up above his head, behind him, Zophiel shrieks again as he flies through the air, kicking and winding his arms before he crashes through the water, splashing water all around.

He just manages to brace himself, Zophiel just manages to surface, when Qaspiel plows into the Power's midriff, tackling him backwards, sweeping his feet out from under him, they crash back into the water, Zophiel turns quickly to avoid being splashed in the face. Under the water, Nisroc manages to get his feet under him again, and kicks up, snagging the guard up by the waist, he tosses him back just as he had his little charge moment before. Qaspiel doesn't go as high as Zophiel had, but his splash is just as grand, he turns around when he feels the tug at his tunic, looking down into the shining eyes of the boy he's taken out for the day.

Zophiel smiles up at him widely, tugging at his tunic again. "Again! Throw me again!"

He nods, dropping back into the water to curl his fingers around the boy's waist, and he stands back up, tossing the boy up again. He smiles as the boy shrieks excitedly, flying through the air, and splashes down beside his guard.

Nisroc raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms loosely, when the guard leans over to whisper in the boys ear. Zophiel's expression brightens considerably and he nods feverishly, climbing up on the guards shoulders when he turns around for him, kneeling slightly. He situates himself, the guard curling his hands just under his knees, and they both turn back towards the Power.

He smiles, raising his hands to brace against the boy's when he reaches out to push him backwards, both squabbling for the upper hand. "Oh, you want to play chicken?" He steps forward and Qaspiel takes a step back. "You should know, I _never_ lose."

"You will this time!"

"Oh, really?" He pulls his hands away, wiggling his fingers in the boy's belly, and when he folds over with a shriek, he pushes him back, and he goes tumbling backwards over the guards shoulders. "I _never_ lose." He bends at the knee slightly, picking the guard up by the waist, he tosses him to the side. He stumbles forward, not having seen the boy swim around him, and he jumps up on his back. " _I_ never lose." Nisroc chuckles, curling his hands around the boy's legs, to keep him in place, and takes a deep breath as he allows them to fall forward into the water. He raises himself to his knees, the boy curled around his back, ankles crosses around his waist and arms circled around his neck and raises his hands. "You win, I give, you win."

"Now say I'm the best!"

He snorts, reaching down to dig his thumb into the right foot crossed around his waist, and the boy jumps, shrieking softly. "Don't push it."

Zophiel giggles softly and rests his chin on the Captain's shoulder. "Thanks for playing with me."

"Thanks for soaking me."

"You're welcome," he snarks softly. "You looked hot."

"I was being sarcastic."

The boy giggles again. "So was I."

Nisroc stands then, turning them back towards the shore, when they hit the sand, he turns to see Qaspiel shake his head and shimmer, changing back into his puppy form. He shakes his fur out and trots up to meet them, as Nisroc turns, and plops them back onto the warm beach. The Captain lays back over his passenger, and Zophiel gives an exaggerated groan, pushing at the Captain's shoulders at first, then falling limply over.

"Get off," he giggles. "You're heavy."

" _I'm_ heavy?" He squirms around slightly. " _You're_ heavy. What is Thaddy feeding you?" He leans back, resting his head on the boy's shoulder. "Bricks?" Little hands cover his eyes and he snorts, shaking his head lightly, knocking them off, and he reaches down, curling the fingers of his right hand around that small left foot, and wiggles his fingers over the sandy wrinkled sole. Zophiel shrieks softly, shaking his foot, tugging on his leg, straightening his other leg, he tugs at the Captain's bun until he lets go to reach for his fingers instead, and immediately stretches his left leg out. "I'm as light as a feather."

"Sure, a feather that weighs a good ton."

They fall silently for a moment, Qaspiel climbs up to plop himself on the Captain's stomach, and he reaches down to scratch behind his ears lightly. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because, you're a boy." Nisroc pauses in his scratching. "A boy who did something _very_ wrong. But, still just a boy. You're remorseful, and that, that is enough for me. It's wrong to keep you in there all the time, you need to interact with the outside world, and that's where I'll come in. No one will dare say anything with me at your side."

Zophiel falls silent, he can feel him stroking his fingers through his hair, but he doesn't push. "I _am_ really sorry."

He reaches down, squeezing his thigh gently. "I know you are, Thaddy knows you are, _you_ know you are, and Father knows you are. That's all that matters." He returns to scratching at the hounds ears. "I don't know why you did what you did, Zophiel, and it's not my place to pry. But, Thaddy will always listen, he'll never judge or look down upon you. If you ever feel as though you need to say why you did it, you have those that will listen, and we'll still love you no matter what."

The boy is silent, he knows his listening though, he just does, and the fingers pause rubbing through his hair. "My old guardian…. The one before… All of this…" He nods, listening, but not interrupting. "They were a traitor. A turncoat. They made me do it. They said that no matter what, just because I was affiliated with them, that I would be a traitor too. They said Michael would be lenient, because of my age, so I did it, I did it because I didn't want them to give something over that was _super_ important, and then I waited. I dropped a feather in his office, I knew he'd find me, and I waited for them."

"So," he pauses his scratching again. "You gave over the information you did, to _save_ lives?"

Zophiel nods lightly, though he can't see it, he feels it happen. "I don't know what they had chosen to give. But I know it was a lot more important then what I did." He falls quiet for a moment. "Did you know that Michael has a list of all the guardians and miracle workers on Earth, and their locations?"

Nisroc turns at that, slightly, leaning on his elbow, to look the boy in the eyes. " _That's_ what they wanted to give over?" That would have been the lives of hundreds of their own. In the grand scheme of things, the boy was a hero, and here he was, being treated like a traitor. "And you s _topped_ them?"

The boy nods lightly. "I said I'd give them the information so that they could make a clean get away. They were long gone by the time I handed over what I did. I knew it would be okay because the other list was still safe in Michael's vault, and that they wouldn't dare trying to sneak back in to get it, they were cowards."

"Have you told anyone?"

Zophiel shakes his head. "No one but you."

Nisroc stares at him. " _Why?"_

"No one ever asked."

And that, that right there, was the fault in their system. That was what made him truly realize how true they had been, in their accusations, there was nothing but truth. _No one ever asked._ He'd heard that before. This was truly history repeating itself, this was Gadreel all over again, another soul with the same damnation. _No one ever asked._ He'd asked Tus why Gadreel had never said anything, about what happened that day, and that had been what he'd told him. _No one ever asked._ Thrown away for a crime that wasn't truly his fault.

"Zophiel," he rolls off of him, the boy sits up now that he's removed himself, the puppy jumping to sit at the boy's side instead, stretching out in the warm sand, it flops over onto its side. "You're a _hero_."

The boy looks down to his sandy feet. "No one else thinks so. Michael doesn't think so."

"You saved so many lives, yes, the information you gave did take some, but in the grand scheme, you saved so many more _innocent_ lives." He shakes his head distastefully. "You should be praised. Not punished." He leans forward, lifting the boy's head up with a finger under his chin, so they were looking at each other again. "I will do _everything_ in my power to get you your freedom, so that you don't have to come out here with an escort to keep you safe, you should be rewarded for what you did."

Zophiel smiles slightly, looking to the side, reaching out to pat the puppy's side. It leans up, curling around slightly, looking up at them, and he gestures to the Captain. "He says I'm a hero." The puppy barks twice and lays back down. ' _I told you.'_

He looks back up at the Power. "Call me _'Zoph'._ All my friends do."

"Call me _'Nis,_ all _my_ friends do."

The boy smiles again. "Can I have another pineapple, Nis?"

He chuckles, pushing himself up to his feet. "Sure." He treks to the water first, to rinse the sand off his hands, Zophiel follows, splashing water over himself to rinse the sand off, reclaiming his spot, as he watches the Power find another pineapple plant and twist the fruit free, peel the leaves and skin off again, and he takes it when it's held out to him, taking a big bite, humming in delight again, juices spilling down his chin.

Nisroc watches him with a small smile. "How is it living with Thaddeus?"

"Thaddy?" He takes another bite. "It's cool. He's really nice. He's like a dad."

"You think of him like a dad?" He smiles again when the boy nods his head. "You should call him that, it'll make his day."

"I don't know…."

"Hmm." The Power leans back in the sand again. "He used to call me _'papa'_ when he was little, he still does now, when I really get him going."

Zophiel turns to look at him mischievously. "If you were _his_ dad, and I think of him as _my_ dad, would that make you my _grandpa_?"

He narrows his eyes, but chuckles softly. "With that thought process, I would assume so, but, if you _ever_ call me ' _grandpa',_ I will _destroy_ you." He shakes his head slightly. "I am not _that_ old."

"Can I call you _'papi'_?"

Nisroc stares at his _too innocent_ smile through narrowed eyes. "Only if you call Thaddy _'papa'_."

The boy hums thoughtfully and nods, finishing off his pineapple, he washes up in the lake, and lays down next to the Power, so that the both of them can sun dry. "Thanks for bringing me out."

The Captain stretches his arm out for the boy to lay on. "You're most welcome."

It's when they're on their way home that they run into trouble, in the form of an archangel, walking through the sparsely populated Axis. Nisroc catches sight of him immediately and pushes the boy behind him lightly, fingers curl into his belt and he knows the boy is peaking out around him, the puppy at his side, growling as menacingly as a puppy could growl.

"Nisroc, what is the meaning of this?"

Zophiel stiffens, hiding behind the Power just a bit more, peeking out around his arm. He knows that voice, that's the voice that sent him to the Prison but never gave him a sentence, that's the voice that would rather just see him rot for what he had done, that wouldn't even listen to his side of the story.

Michael sees the prisoner immediately, no matter his clothes, he would recognize a traitor.

Nisroc pushes him back around a bit more. "I'm doing my _job_."

"You are allowing a prisoner to roam free?"

"You cannot be a prisoner without a sentence."

"The boy is a traitor," he gestures to the youngling peeking out from around his Captain's arm. "That crime carries life; I thought the sentence went without being said."

Zophiel inhales sharply, the thought of being stuck in there for life a haunting one, Nisroc squeezes at his arm reassuringly. "Then, I will make it my mission to escort him around for the rest of my life

"You would defy my orders?"

The Power nods firmly. "I refuse to allow the same thing that happened to Gadreel, happen to another, if you'd only let him explain himself, you wouldn't be so quick to persecute." He plants himself firmly. "I _refuse_ to follow any order that would bring more harm then good, _even_ if it comes from you."

"That's insubordination, Nisroc, I could have you court martialed."

"But you wouldn't dare." The Captain raises his chin slightly. "You know the others would leave you in a heartbeat if you got rid of me, their loyalty lies with me, not you." He shakes his head, inhaling deeply. "I will not allow my _grandson_ to waste away inside the same four walls because you are too pigheaded to hear the truth. You are blind. You only see black and white, you miss the gray, you see foes where there are friends. I cannot follow the orders of someone who would be so quick to judgement when they don't even know the reason for the act."

Zophiel stares up at him, his jaw slack, and the puppy follows suit.

"Your _grandson_?"

Nisroc nods firmly, curling his fingers around the boy's arm. "My grandson." He raises himself up. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to get him back by supper time, and we are running a bit late already." He leads the boy forward around the side farther away from the Archangel, and steps around his Commander, feeling his eyes on his back, he's far too stunned about what he had just done to turn back and witness his expression. The puppy barks at the archangel as they pass him by and trots along to keep up with them as they make their way up the Prison steps swiftly. The guards have already changed out for the night, and they both nod to the guards stationed at the bottom of the steps that lead to the Warden's quarters as they pass them, the smell of roast chicken and potatoes fills the air around them and Zophiel licks at his lips hungrily, surprising, considering he ate two full pineapples.

Zophiel throws the door open to the Warden's room and bounces in, bouncing over to hug him tightly, Thaddeus chuckles softly, hugging the youngling back in return "Dinner smells great!"

"I thought it would," the Warden ruffles his fingers through the boy's curls lightly. "Go get washed up and I'll make you a plate."

Zophiel smiles slyly, though none of them can see it, his puppy guard does. "Thanks for letting me go out, papa!"

Nisroc laughs softly at the expression that overcomes the Warden's face, the boy is a sneaky one, and he shakes his head when the boy jumps around to hug him too. "Thanks for taking me out, papi!"

And he darts out with his puppy at his heels.


	71. Big Brother Is In Charge

"Please Saba, please don't take my toys, please!" He pulls on his older brother's sleeve as they make their way across the training field, the end of their shift has come, it was the weekend, he didn't want to spend the entire weekend without his toys. "Please, Saba! I'm really sorry! I'm really _really_ sorry! I won't ever do it again!"

If the older guard was getting annoyed by his pestering, he made no notion of it, he simply kept walking ahead, letting their youngest guard tug endlessly at his sleeve.

He'd given their prisoner a concussion, granted Metatron had been having at him all week, it was still a wrong, and with every wrong there was a consequence.

"Please, please Saba! I'm sorry! Please don't take my toys away! I'll be really good! I swear I will! I won't argue when it's time for bed and I'll clean my toys up without being told and everything! Please, Saba!"

"Hush, Sora." He finally puts a stop to it, reaching around to grab his hand, holding it so he couldn't start tugging at his sleeve again. "Be quiet."

Sorath closes his mouth with a soft pop, he can feel tears gathering in his eyes, he'd been really good all week, he got a new toy before papa left yesterday and he hadn't gotten time to play with it last night before bed, so tonight was the night, he had been waiting all day to play with his new toy, and then Metatron had gotten to him, he'd finally managed to get under his skin. Sabaoth had tried to distract him but he had not had any of it, jumping at their prisoner as he exited for bath time, he'd gotten three good swings in before the exscribe went down.

And, now because of that meanie, he was going to get his new toy taken away and he wasn't going to get to play with it _all_ weekend.

Sabaoth walks them down the hall, stopping at between their rooms, and he turns to look down at the little guard. "Hey, hey, no tears." He cradles his cheeks as he wipes away the tears that are trailing down his face. "You get changed for bed and come over, we'll talk about what happened then, alright?"

The younger guard nods miserably, sniffling softly, turning into his room to get ready for bed. He stops by his toy shelf, where he puts all his new or favorite toys, touching a finger to his new robot toy, and he sniffles again. Turning towards his wardrobe, he pulls the door open and reaches in for his night shirt, turning towards his bed, he sets the nightshirt to rest over the edge, and he slowly undresses, putting the inevitable off for as long as he can manage.

But all things must come to an end, and soon enough he's all dressed and ready for bed, so he sighs, sniffling softly, and picks up his dolphin as he turns towards the door.

Saba is sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him when he enters, and he closes the door softly when gestures for him to do so, then crosses to stand in front of him, hugging his dolphin close.

"Sora, look at me." He looks up to meet his big brothers eyes. "What you did is unacceptable." He nods, sniffling again. "There must be a consequence." He lifts his head back up with a finger under his chin. "I'll give you a choice, I can take your toys for the weekend, or, you can go over my knee and have an early bedtime for the weekend."

He sniffles. "I—If I go over your knee, can I still play?"

Sabaoth nods lightly. "Not tonight, for it would be passed your bedtime, but you could tomorrow morning."

Sora nods lightly, pressing his stuffed dolphin under his nose. "I—I'll go over your knee."

His older brother nods, holding a hand out for his stuffed dolphin, he kisses it lightly before passing it over. "Alright, bare yourself." He nods, doing as he's told, and soon enough he finds himself looking down at his brother's foot, yelping and crying out as smacks are peppered down on his bottom. It hurts, but it'll only hurt for a bit, and he'll still get to play with his new toy tomorrow too, so it's worth it.

Besides, he gets cuddles after it's over, and cuddles make everything better.

"There you go," his older brother rights him up and turns him around to face him, wiping his face clean with a small handkerchief. "All forgiven. We'll speak of it no more." He hands him his dolphin back and strokes his cheek lightly. "Do you want puppy cuddles or regular cuddles?"

"Can we do regular cuddles tonight and puppy cuddles tomorrow?"

His older brother smiles at him, patting his cheek lightly with a finger, and he nods lightly. "Yes, we most certainly can." He stands from the edge of the bed. "You climb on in; I still have to brush my teeth."

Sorath nods, stepping forward, crawling into his older brothers bed, he situates himself on the other side, cuddling down under the blankets, he watches over his dolphins head as Saba brushes his teeth and rinses his mouth. He cuddles down when his big brother climbs in next to him, curling on his side, he opens his arms, and that's his invitation to cuddle close. He settles between those two arms, sighing contentedly as they curl around him and pull him close, his bottom stings a bit, but these cuddles make it all better.

"I'm sorry, Saba." He mumbles into the older guard's chest. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't pup. Everyone has accidents. It's alright."

…

Sabaoth arrives with a puppy in his hand.

Osmadiel takes one look at the small puppy and looks up to his older brother. "Rough night?"

He nods. "Had a nightmare and turned into a puppy." He sits on his stool and rests the puppy in his lap. "He's still not ready to change back just yet."

Rahab coos at the puppy. "Aw, poor Sora." She leans forward to scratch a finger behind his ear. "It'll be okay, Sora." Sorath whines softly and ducks back, crawling under the opening of Sabaoth's jacket. "I've got an idea!" She stands from her seat. "He needs to be close to his big brother." She pulls Sora out from the flap of Saba's jacket and zips it up, then she tucks the puppy up under the top into the little pouch she created over his chest, the puppy's head pokes out of the jacket, rubbing under Saba's chin, and Rahab smiles at her work and sits back down. "There we go."

Sabaoth chuckles softly, rubbing a few fingers over the puppy's head, before the puppy ducks back into his jacket.

"Now, that's adorable." Os leans back against the wall. "I wish I had a camera."

A flash interrupts them and they all turn to look at the source, Thaddeus smiles at them and lowers a camera, Os snorts into his hand. "I have a few kids; I like to capture the moments." He holds up the photo after it prints out of the top. "This is a keeper. Wait until I show Tus. He'll frame it."

He reaches out and rubs a finger over the top of the little fluffy head that pokes out. "If you two want to nap on the bed in my office, you're more than welcome to."

Sabaoth nods, patting the mound under his jacket lightly. "We may take you up on that."

A little fluffy head peaks out from under the collar of his jacket and a small pink tongue licks at his chin.

He chuckles. "After lunch, Sora, we'll take a nap. You didn't get much sleep last night."

Thaddeus smiles, standing back up. "Just let me know and I'll have someone swap places with you."

The Warden doesn't bat an eye when two hounds come trotting in his office, one carrying the other, and curls up in the large dog bed under the window. The large hound sets the puppy down between its two front legs, it's puppy barks softly, yawning a big yawn, and lays down cuddled against the older hound.


	72. The Lost Puppy

He'd been watching the puppy for a little over two days, he was there when the little thing was dropped off, tied to that post, and left there to wait for a family to return that was never coming back. He watched as the puppy's tail slowly stopped wagging, as the puppy's happiness slowly faded, and it whined softly as it laid down to wait some more.

He whined himself, cursing the one who had dropped this puppy off, with no intention of returning for it, and he finally stands up. Trotting across the street, he nudges the puppy with his nose, laying down next to it.

' _What are you waiting for, puppy?'_

Little sad brown eyes turn to look at him. _'Waiting for my family. They'll come back. I know they will.'_

' _Puppy, I don't think they're coming back.'_

The puppy whines, and he leans forward, licking his head comfortingly. _'Was I bad?'_

' _No, you are a very good puppy, you just love bad people.'_

' _Where will I go?'_ He looks down at the puppy. _'If I can't go home.'_

' _You'll come stay with me in my home. Where your bowl will never go empty, toys are endless, you're always allowed on the bed, and someone is always there to give you belly rubs.'_

He feels a sense of accomplishment when the puppy's tail begins to wag again. _'Really?'_

' _Really. I'll go get my master, he'll set you free, and you can come home with us.'_

' _Promise to come back?'_ The little puppy is mistrustful, after being abandoned by it's family, he doesn't blame him. He barks softly, licking its head again, and stands, trotting back into the crowd. He searches out the hands of his master, sniffing and searching, he finds him in front of a fruit vender, and he snags his pant leg, tugging firmly. The man looks down at him, eyebrows scrunched together, this was unlike the hound to be so demanding. He thanks the man in the stall and follows after his hound as he leads him through the crowd, he frowns lightly at the puppy he's led to, and he kneels beside the puppy, lifting the rope tied to the poor things collar with his right hand.

"Era, did you make a new friend?"

His hound nudges his hand. _'His family abandoned him, Nis, the puppy can be part of our family now.'_

The Power nods. "Alright, we can take him home." He reaches for the knot tied around the loop in it's collar, untying it gently, he scoops the puppy up with his free hand. "Gosh, little guy, you barely weigh a thing. We'll have to get a good meal into you."

The puppy looks up at him, unsure. _'New family?'_

"New family, pup, new family indeed." He turns to the hound at his side. "Let's get home, Era."

…

The puppy is unsure at first, everything is so different, but the nice older dog is there, and the man is so gentle, he looks around at everything there is to see.

The man kneels, setting him on his paws, and rubs at his head lightly. "How about something to eat?" He barks excitedly, hoping from paw to paw, and the man chuckles. "I thought so, let's see what we have here, we'll get your belly nice and full."

The man stands, and he watches him grab a bowl, and lift the lid off of a great pan. The older dog trots over to his side, sitting over him, he licks at his head. The puppy preens, sitting up into the fond affection, standing up on his two hind legs, so much so that he tumbles backwards into the older hound. He squirms around on his back, and the older dog barks softly, leaning down to lick his belly.

' _What's your friend's name?'_

' _His name is Nisroc, but I call him Nis, you can call him that too.'_

The man, Nisroc, kneels before him again, setting a bowl down for him. "Some chicken and gravy, a nice meal for a growing puppy, dig in little guy."

' _All for me?'_

"All for you, little one."

He looks up at the man. _'You can understand me?'_

Nisroc nods lightly. "I can. You eat up. If you want more just ask."

The little puppy sniffs at the bowl, little tail starting to wag, and he licks it experimentally. Barking happily, he takes a bite, the gravy and chicken is delicious, it's still warm and it fills him belly more then he can remember it being filled for a very long time. He licks the bowl clean, licking at his jaw as he looks back up to the kind man, he smiles and kneels, setting another bowl down beside him. "How about some water to wash it all down?" His little tail wags again as he leans over to lap the water up. This new family is nice, they gave him yummy food and cool water, the big dog is friendly, and the man is nice.

He looks back up to them man and Nisroc smiles down at him, leaning over to pick him back up, the puppy barks softly at the hand that curls under his belly, and he's pressed to the man's strong chest. "Let me show you to our room."

The puppy looks around as he's carried down a great hall, pictures cover the bare spaces, faces he doesn't recognize, he sees the nice man carrying him in some of them, the big dog too. They turn into a room, it's big, there is a big bed and a wardrobe, a desk, and in the corner a large fluffy dog bed. Toys are littered in the corner, pull toys and stuffed toys and balls. He barks at the sight of them, and Nisroc looks over, smiling at the sight of the toys. He leans over and sets the puppy down, sitting on the edge of his bed as the little thing bounces over to the corner, kicking a ball with it's front right paw, shaking a rope toy gently, sniffing at a stuffed toy, his little tail wagging rapidly. "You like toys, pup?"

He barks again, batting another ball with his paw, and the Power chuckles. "How about a welcome home gift?" He stands from his bed, walking over to the wardrobe, and pulls the door open. He reaches inside for something, and the puppy waits anxiously, he likes gifts. The man pulls his hand out, fingers curled around something, and closes the door. The puppy bounces after him excitedly, wanting to see what was in his hand, what his gift was.

Nisroc leans over and holds out a stuffed toy. "Here you go, little guy, welcome home."

' _A stuffed bear!'_ He takes the bear with a happy bark, shaking it around, he chews on it's ear. _'For me!'_

"Just for you, puppy."

The older hound jumps up on the bed, watching his new friend play with his bear happily, and lays down beside his master.

The puppy looks up at them, it's new toy still hanging in his mouth. _'Thank you! You're so nice! Just like my old family…'_ The puppy drops his toy, his wagging tail dropping with it. _'Are you going to leave me too?'_

"Never, little one." Nisroc leans over to pick him and his stuffed bear up. "You'll have a home here forever more."

The puppy's tail begins to wag again. _'Promise?'_

"I swear." He scratches a finger behind the puppy's ear. "Now, do you want to sleep on the big bed, or the doggy bed in the corner?"

' _I can sleep on the bed?'_

Era barks and Nisroc nods. "You sure can, if you want to, you can sleep in either bed."

' _Can I…Can I sleep where Era is going to sleep?'_

"Of course," he looks over to the hound next to him. "Where are you sleeping tonight, Era?"

The big dog barks, pawing at the bed, and Nisroc nods. "Looks like you're both sleeping on the big bed then, little guy."

Era rolls over onto his side comfortably, and the Power lifts the puppy up, kissing him on the nose. "Welcome home, little one." And sets him down on the bed. The puppy drags his stuffed bear over by the ear and curls up against the big dog, his bear under his head. Nisroc pets them both, scratching lightly at their ears. "Sweet dreams, you two."

If he wakes up the next morning to find one hound stretched out between his legs and the little puppy curled up over his chest with his new stuffed bear, he just closes his eyes and goes back to sleep, no need to wake them so early.


	73. Had It Up To Here

"I've had it up to here with his behavior." The Warden fumes as he paces his office, hands planted firmly on his hips, he mumbles between sentences, shaking his head in distaste. "He won't listen to a word I say. He won't do his chores. He mouths off. He has the _audacity_ to talk back to me." The guard watches him cautiously, an upset Thaddeus was never one someone wanted to cross, it just wasn't right, an upset Thaddeus could go either way. "I'm at my wits end with him! He makes me so angry; I just want to—" He mimes choking someone with his fingers, and takes a deep inhale, halting his stride midstep, he nods his head as he clears his mind. "Shamsiel, go fetch Nisroc."

The guards eyes widen, but he nods, not wanting to direct that volatile temper on himself, and turns to leave the Warden's office.

He returns fifteen minutes later with the Powers Captain at his heel, the older angel takes one look at the flustered Warden and gently waves him out, nodding, glad to have an excuse to leave this tense presence, he backtracks, closing the door behind him, and he makes his way back down the hall quickly.

The Power hums softly, stepping forward towards the Warden. "Oh, my little Tadpole, what's got you so flustered?"

The Warden turns as he approaches, stepping into the arms that are held open for him, feeling hands clasp together behind him, he presses his ear to the Captain's chest, his hands travelling up to curl into the front of his tunic, they sway from side to side, the Captain's chin resting on his head.

"He makes me so _mad,_ papa." He takes another deep breath. "I've tried being nice, I've tried being firmer, he just won't listen to me. He back talks and refuses to do his chores and calls me horrid names and I'm getting fed up with it, papa."

Those arms tighten around him slightly. "Do you want papa to set him straight?"

He nods lightly. "Yes, please."

"Alright, little Tadpole, papa will take care of it." He unclasps his hands, rubbing the younger angel's back gently, he presses a kiss to the top of his head. "You take a seat, and papa will go deal with this wayward troublesome youngster."

He walks the Warden back around his desk, and leans over slightly, reaching out to turn his chair around, and guides him down to sit in his chair, letting his hands glide up to cradle his cheeks. "Papa will take care of it, you do something else, find something to get him off your mind." Thaddeus nods against his hands, and he smiles down at him, leaning over to press his lips to his forehead. "I'm going to borrow your belt, alright?"

"Okay, papa." The younger angel nods. "Don't be too hard on him, papa."

"Oh, don't you worry," he steps out from behind the desk and reaches into the small closet for the belt hanging on the door. "I'll take _good_ care of him."

Thaddeus watches him leave, closing the door behind him, and sighs, looking down at his clean desktop, he has nothing to do. He looks over to the book shelf to his side, perhaps he could start a new book, and he nods to himself, that's what he'll do, reading always clears his mind.

…

Nisroc makes his way down the hall steadily, guards look up as he passes, and step out of his way, it's clear he's here for a reason, and they take quick note of the belt he holds folded over in his right hand. They are sure to make room for him as he journeys forward. The guard posted between the two cells steps aside as the Captain reaches for the keys he keeps on his belt, selecting the one he's searching for, he slides it into the cell gate and turns it over to the side, the tumbler clicks open, and the door swings open.

The prisoner within backs away from the Power as he enters, gone is the bravado, gone is the back talking, in it's place is a cautious animal backed into a corner. "W—What are you doing here?"

"Oh, where is this boy I've heard _all_ about?" He leaves the cell open; he doesn't plan on being here very long, it never takes him long to get the results he comes to expect. "The one who backtalks and throws around foul names?" He stands to his full height, the key to these things is the intimidation, one must break those fortifying walls before they can get the respect they expect to receive, and he towers over the small boy. Youthful eyes widen as they look up at him, almost blocking the exit with his entire body, he's so big, and the belt folded over hanging from his right hand only adds to the effect he wants to give. "Go ahead, backtalk to me, call _me_ foul names."

"He…He sent for _you_?"

"He did," Nisroc nods lightly. "He sends for me to deal with all the particularly _troublesome_ prisoners. They are few and far between." He turns, sitting on the bed lightly, leaning on his right knee. "What?" He tilts his head slightly. "Nothing to say? No jabs? No insults? No rebellion?"

The boy shakes his head. "I have no beef with you."

The Power points a finger at him. "Ah, that would be where you're wrong, any beef you have with Thaddeus, is a beef you have with me." He lowers his arm again. "After all, Thaddeus may be Warden, but he reports back to someone." He taps a finger to his chest. "And, that someone would be me." He nods when nothing more is said. "If there's nothing more you need to say, let me say a few things, let me tell you how this is going to play out from here. You will stop calling _my_ Warden foul names, you will stop this rebellion you are putting up, you will stop with the backtalking. You will _start_ doing your chores, you will start behaving yourself, and you will start showing my staff the respect they deserve."

"Oh, yea?" The boy pipes up defiantly. "And what's gonna happen if I don't?"

"I'm glad you asked," he leans over, snagging the younger angel by the wrist, and tugs him closer. "Let me show you."

The others in the cell block come to stand at the doors of their cells, trying to peer out and see what the commotions about when the wailing starts, wails and sobs fill the corridor, and some flinch at the distinct sound of leather harshly meeting flesh, those who had seen the Captain walk down the hall towards that particular cell make sounds of sympathy, there's only one reason the Captain of the Powers would be entering a cell and it's never a good reason.

The wails and sobs continue on for a couple of minutes, the wails are in time with the thrash of the leather belt against a bare rear end, and the sobs fill in the spaces in between.

And then it stops.

There's a shuffling as they're stood back on their feet and their trousers are pulled up again. They all scurry back as the Power guides the offender from their cell, fingers curled firmly around the back of their neck, guiding them forward towards the Warden's office at the end of the hall. The prisoner is curled into themselves, one hand rubbing at their bottom and the other rubbing at their eyes, the Captain guiding him has the belt hanging over his shoulder, and leans forward to open the door before them, and then they disappear from view again.

…

Thaddeus looks up from his book at their entrance, taking in the state of his prisoner and the look in the Captain's eyes, Nisroc guides the chastised prisoner forward.

"Well, anything you'd like to say?" The prisoner shakes his head lightly. "Do we need to go again, because we can." He shakes his head frantically, looking up to his keeper with red puffy eyes and tears, and Thaddeus tilts his head.

"I—I'm sorry!"

Nisroc squeezes the back of his neck firmly. "For what?"

"F—For being d—disrespectful!"

Thaddeus hums lowly, folding his hands before him over his desk, and leans forward on his elbows. "Did you enjoy this experience, Zazriel?"

He shakes his head feverishly. "N—No."

"Do you know what's going to happen the next time you give me this much trouble?"

Zazriel nods quickly and the Warden hums. "Good. There's no supper tonight. You can go back to your cell, the guard will lock you in, I will be over to check in on you in an hour, and you had better be asleep."

The younger angel nods, turning out from under the Power's hand, reaching out to open the door, still rubbing at his bottom with his free hand, trying to rub the sting away as best as he can. It doesn't work. But it's worth the try.

Nisroc crosses the office to put the belt back, and comes to stand at his side, turning him around in his chair, Thaddeus looks up at him with appreciative eyes. "Thanks, papa."

"Anytime, Tadpole."


	74. Back To Tickles

He giggles as the Warden hovers his wiggling fingers over his bare belly, strapped to the table again, undressed from the waist up, his feet bare at the bottom end, this time he knows his torture isn't going to be painful, he knows what's going to come, he knows how it's going to be, he _knows_.

"Is this belly ready?" The Warden asks playfully, smiling at the boisterous giggles that bounce off the walls around them, the young prisoner watching his fingers with apt attention. "I've got lost time to make up for, so I hope this belly is prepared, it's really in for it."

"Thahahahaddy!"

"We need to bring some laughter back in this place and I've decided I'm starting with you, Zan."

Zander giggles harder when the wiggling fingers dip down towards his belly, tugging on his restraints, kicking his feet as best as he can. "I'm going to give this belly all the love it missed out on during that _bad_ period."

His fingers pause in their wiggling, and the prisoners bright violet eyes flit over to his, and he smiles playfully. "Let's get started." Zander shrieks when those fingers suddenly dig into his belly, wiggling circles of tickles around and around, painting a path of playful destruction in their wiggly wake. He shrieks with laughter, tugging on his arms and kicking his legs frantically, trying to suck in his belly despite the bright peals of laughter that make it awfully hard to do so.

Thaddeus chuckles at him, pausing his attack. "Let's make this interesting, every time you suck in your belly, you get two berries." He shakes his head, Thaddy knows how to play this game, and he knows how to play this game well. "Do you remember the berries?" He leans over him slightly, drawing his arms behind his back, curling his fingers together. "Do you need me to remind you of them?"

"No! Nohoho! I rehehemember!"

"I think I should show you."

"You dohon't need tohoho!"

"Well," he smiles lightly. "Let's just as this belly what it thinks." He leans over him, looking down at his belly, hovering just above his belly button. "Belly, do you need a demonstration on the matter that is berries?" He turns his head slightly, pressing his ear against his belly, humming as though words were exchanged. "I see, I do, I would be delighted to." He pulls away slightly, turning to look him in the eyes, that playful light gleams in the Warden's eyes, he missed that light. "Your belly seems to think it needs reminded."

"It's lyhyhying!"

"Belly's _never_ lie."

"It ihihis! It is!"

"Now, Zander, I think I would know if bellies lie, I talk to a lot of bellies in a single day, and I have yet to hear one tell me a lie." He looms back out over his belly. "Let me oblige this belly's wishes."

"No! No, Thaddy! Stay away! Not those! Not berries! Don't do it! Dohohon't dohohoho ihihihit!"

The Warden takes a deep breath, bending over him, his arms still crosses behind his back, and lowers his head down, pressing his lips over his belly button, and rests there. The boy squeals softly, kicking his legs again, sucking in his belly as much as he can. Thaddeus chuckles, releasing his big breath, and rubs his nose over the small belly button. "You just really want those berries, don't you?"

"Nohoho! Nohohot beheheherries! Hahahahhahahaahahahaha! Plehehehhehease!"

He takes another deep breath and presses in deeper then before, this time he knows it's coming, and Zander tries to prepare himself for it.

He can't.

"EEIEIAIAHAAHHAHAHAHAHHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHA! NO! NOHOHOHO EEIEIIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA! THADDY EEAIAIAIAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA NOT THOSE EEIEIAIAAHAAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! NO MORE AHAHAHAHAHEEIEEIEIAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHO MOOHHOHOHOORE! EEIIEIEAHAHAHHAHHAHA AHAHHAHAAHAHHA HOLD IT HOHOHOHOLD IIIEIEIEIIEEHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHA HAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAA!"

"Do you remember what berries are now, little belly?" He laughs freely as the Warden presses his ear back over his belly, nodding along mockingly, and gives a soft hum. "Of course, I can show you one more time."

"No! NO! Thaddy! Get away! Not those! Not berries! Please!"

"I'm sorry, Zan, I'm only doing what this belly wants."

"Nohhohoho!" Zander tenses when he feels the Warden press his lips back over his belly button, holding onto a massive breath. "EIEIEIAAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA THADDY NO EEIEIEIIEAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! IT KNOWS IT KNOWS EEEIEIEIIEAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA HAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA EIEIIEAIHAAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA IT KNOWS!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'M SURE! I'M REALLY SURE!"

"Alright, if you're sure." Thaddeus sits back up again, pulling his hands out from behind his back, he leans against the edge of the table and smiles down at him. "I just wanted to be sure, I mean, your belly _did_ ask me to show it again." He holds two fingers out over his belly. "Now, remember, you suck in that belly, you get two berries."

The young prisoner nods quickly, vowing not to suck in his belly, no matter what sort of torture may be laid upon him.

"Good boy." He pokes his two fingers all over his belly, in random places, there is no way for him to map out any sort of pattern. "You're doing better than I thought you would." He does giggle too, shimmying from side to side, as much as his binds will allow, watching those two fingers closely with his bright violet eyes. "Now, for the true test." He raises a single finger for him to see, and he stares at it intently, watching as that finger turns, pointing down at him, and slowly begins to lower. He falls still when the finger pokes into his belly button, standing there, the Warden staring down at him as though waiting for his reaction.

He shrieks when the finger starts to wiggle, and he can't help it, he tells himself not to, he orders himself to hold it back, but it happens, and he sucks in his belly.

"Oh, ho, ho, I knew that would work!" Thaddeus leans over him, resting his hand on his other side, curling his fingers around his side to keep him from squirming away. "Time for your berries."

"No!"

"Yes!" He takes a deep breath and rushes down, pressing his face into his belly, and blows a massive raspberry over his belly button.

Zander throws his head back with a bright squeal of laughter. "EEIIEIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA I'M SORRY EEEIEIIEAIIAAHIAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHA IT WAS A MISTAKE EEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA! WAIT WAIT EEIEIIEAIAIHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA YOU ONLY SAID TWO EEIIEIEAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! THADDY EEIEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHA YOU SAID TWO EEIEIEIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I know," the older angel stands back up, poking him playfully in the side, smiling as he giggles breathlessly. "But, you're just so darn cute, I can't help myself."

"I'm cuhuhute?"

He nods as he walks around to stand at the head of the table, leaning against the edge to loom over him. "Adorable." Zander smiles, puckering up his lips, and the Warden chuckles, bending over to give him a kiss. "Absolutely, adorable." He wiggles a finger over his left armpit. "What am I going to do up here?"

The young prisoner giggles lightly, leaning as far away from that wiggling finger as he possibly can. "Nothing!" He bites his lip in an attempt to keep the giggles at bay. Thaddeus smiles down at him, wiggling a finger over his other armpit when he takes in his attempt at escape, Zander giggles despite the grip he has on his lip and looks between the two wiggling fingers. "Nothing? Are you sure?"

He nods quickly, giggling harder when the fingers slowly start to lower, their wiggling never ceasing. "Yes! Yehehes!"

"I don't know, that doesn't sound like me." His fingers come to a standstill, poking into the hollows of his armpits, he tilts his head to the side. "That doesn't sound like something I'd do. _Nothing_. I'll tell you what does sound like something I'd do." He wiggles his fingers around and the prisoner shrieks, bright peals of laughter exploding from him, and Thaddeus smiles down at him. "Armpit tickles." Zander looks up at him, boisterous laughter echoing around the room, as he twists his wrists in the straps that hold his arms above his head, flexing his fingers, he curls his fingers around the hem of the Warden's tunic and tugs desperately. He looks down at the tugging on his shirt, smiling at his fingers clutching at his tunic, reaching down to curl his fingers around the fists clutching at his shirt.

He giggles breathlessly. "Cuhuhuddles now, Thaddy?"

"Oh, you want _cuddles_ now?" He chuckles softly when the younger angel nods up at him. "Alright, we can have some cuddles now." He unstraps his wrists gently, helping the youth into a sitting position, walking around the side of the table to unstrap his ankles. Zander scoots down to the bottom of the table, kicking his feet lightly, he reaches out. "Bubbles?" Thaddeus smiles, turning towards the table behind him, and plucks the boy's stuffed octopus up, handing it over to him. Zander smiles, hugging the stuffed animal to his chest tightly, he looks up when he feels the Warden tug him closer. "Come on, little guy, let's go get some cuddles."

"Yay!" He curls his arms around the older angel's neck as he's lifted from the table, making sure to keep his grip firmly on one of Bubbles tentacles, Thaddeus carries him across the room and pulls the door to the torture chamber open. He smiles at the others that peer out from their cells, and winks playfully, they had to hear the commotion from inside, and he hopes they did, that's what's coming back full force. The laughter. They all needed laughter. He turns up the stairs, pressing a kiss to the boy's cheek as he makes his way upstairs, Zander smiles, he feels him smile, and he presses another kiss to his cheek.

Zander was a special prisoner, he was a little shit most of the time, the quietest little prisoner he had, one could forget he was there until he moved, and it caught you be surprise. But he was cute, adorable even, sitting at the bars of his cell talking to Sasha as the little fledgling colored with him. He was Sasha's favorite prisoner, a friend even, and any friend of his baby frog was a friend to him. And, you could make him giggles just by wiggling your fingers at him, if that wasn't adorable, he didn't know what was.

And, he was a cuddle bug. He's the only prisoner he has who asks for cuddles nearly on a daily basis, and who's he to deny someone cuddles when they ask so nicely, he'd sit at his desk working on paperwork with the little prison straddling his lap, sleeping soundly with his stuffed octopus, he wasn't a nuisance in the slightest, a warm weight.

He opens the door to his room with his foot, closing it with his heel, he carries the young prisoner over to his bed. "Okay, you climb under the blankets, I have to take off my boots."

Zander nods, slipping under the blankets, he hugs his octopus to his chest as he watches the Warden sit on the edge of the bed and untie his boots, pulling them off, setting them together on the edge of his bed. He turns, sliding under the blankets with him, and lays on his side, opening his arms for the young prisoner to slide into. The youngling scoots over, pressing himself against his chest, Bubbles the octopus squished between them, and he curls his arms around him, pulling him against him.

He kisses him on the forehead. "Here's your cuddles, little guy."


	75. The Honor Of Being First

"Hey, Thaddy."

He smiles at the voice, looking up from the file he'd been reading, he'd been on his way to the new intakes cell, better to get their first session over sooner rather then later, takes a bite from the apple curled in the fingers of his right hand, and turns his course around towards the voice that called out to him.

"Good morning, Zander."

The young prisoner within his cell, arms looped between the bars, leaning forward on the gate, reaches out for the apple in his hand, and he moves closer, letting the youth take the apple from him and take his own bite before depositing the fruit back in his hand.

He chews for a moment and swallows. "Looking for your first victim?"

Thaddeus smiles at him fondly and nods. "I am, there was a new intake a few days ago, I was thinking I'd get them this morning."

Zander nods, rubbing at his nose lightly. "Can I go first?"

He closes the file at the request, tucking it under his arm, he leans forward against the bars. "You want to be my first session."

The youngling nods, leaning forward, licking him on the nose playfully. "Yep. I wanna be the first."

The Warden makes a face, leaning back slightly to wipe his nose with his hand, and smiles at him playfully in turn. "What is it you want from me?"

Zander's cheeks heat up and he looks down. "Thaaaaddyyyy!"

"You have to tell me what you want in order for me to ensure you get it."

The boy bites his lip and looks up, his cheeks a bright red, a stark contrast to his normally pallor complexion. "I want some tickles."

"You want what?"

"Thhaaaadddyyyyy!"

"Oh, fine, never let me have any fun." He reaches for the keys on his belt. "I heard you."

"Yay!" Zander claps his hands lightly, bouncing back a pace, his excitement almost fledglinglike. "Thank you!"

He nods, unlocking the cell door, and swings it open. Zander bounces forward, jumping up on him, and he fumbles slightly to catch him and not drop the folder he carried, as the youth wraps his legs around his waist. Of course, he could get a guard to carry the boy down to the chamber, but Zander was special, he'd carry him down there himself. He smiles, pressing their foreheads together. "You're so excited that you're shaking."

"I'm so happy!"

"You're always happy."

"I know!"

He chuckles, shaking his head, and turns them out of the cell. Zander giggles excitedly, pressing his forehead against the elder's staring into his eyes, and it's only by shear memory that he gets them there without running into anything in their way, or tripping over his own two feet, as he stares right back. "I'm going to give you so many tickles."

"All the tickles?"

"Every single bit of tickles."

"All the tickles!"

Zander squeals softly, and his heart soars at his excitement, out of all his victims, Zander was his favorite. He always had so much fun with him, and vise versa. He elbows the door open and steps inside, the lanterns on the walls first up at their entrance, illuminating the room around them, it's a dim glow, but it's enough. The fireplace springs to life as they approach, he kicks the door closed behind him, the youth giggles again, bouncing lightly in his arms, he's just so excited, he loves that about him, he's like a little puppy. "Someone's excited."

"This is the first time!" Zander explodes excitedly. "The first time since the bad times!"

That brings him to a pause, and he presses their foreheads together again, staring back into his eyes. "Zan, did I ever hurt you?"

"What?"

He elaborates. "Did I ever harm you?"

"No," he feels relief wash over him when the boy shakes his head. "You ignored me. It was like I didn't even exist to you anymore. It was upsetting, because I really love you, but it was better then having your attention like some of the others did, so it was also good too."

"I'm happy I didn't hurt you too, relieved, I already can't forgive myself for harming those that I did, but if I'd have hurt you, it'd have killed me." He kisses him on the nose lightly. "You mean a lot to me."

Zander giggles again, kissing him on the nose in return. "I love you too, Thaddy."

"Good, I'm glad to know my love isn't unreciprocated." He sets him down on the edge of the table. "Let's get this little party started." He smiles when the youngling squeals softly in excitement and bounces on the edge of the table. "Boots?" He chuckles when the young angel kicks his bare feet up, wiggling his toes lightly. "Someone was mighty sure I'd let them be first, weren't they?" He pinches at one of his toes and the little angel giggles exuberantly. "No tunic, no boots, it's like you expected me to bring you down."

"I _knew_ you would." He wiggles his toes again. "I'm one of your _favorites_."

"Oh, you _knew_ , huh?" Thaddeus pinches his toe again. "Well, I suppose you can go first, you're already here."

"One of your _favorites_!"

"Uhuh," he curls his fingers around his ankles and turns him around on the table, tugging him over to rest in the middle, and Zander bounces in place again. "Do you want to be strapped down or no?" He was the only one who got the choice, mainly because he didn't fight to get away, he had a feeling that the boy liked being tickled, but he didn't want to broach the subject until he was comfortable with him doing so.

Zander taps a finger to his chin in thought. "Yes and no."

"Yes and no?" He nods again, tugging him closer to the straps just in case. "Okay, top or bottom?"

He kicks his feet lightly in his hold. "Bottom."

Thaddeus nods. "Alright." And leans over to strap his left ankle down, and then his right, Zander giggles adorably and wiggles his toes again. "Lay on down, you know the drill." The boy flops backwards, throwing his arms up above his head, giggling all the while, he was so excited, and it was adorable.

Zander watches him cross around to stand at his right side, giggling and squirming when he pokes him in the side playfully. "You ready for your tickles?"

The boy bites his lip, nodding firmly. "Do your worst."

"Do my worst, huh?"

The boy smiles, despite his biting his lip, and nods.

"Oh, alrighty then, I'll do my worst." He leans over to poke him on the nose. "Just remember, you asked for it." The Warden turns away from him then, and he watches his back as he bends over, lifting a bucket off the floor, he dips it in the cauldron hanging next to the fire, scooping up a bucket of water. He smiles as he turns to set the bucket of water on the bottom edge of the table, between his feet, then he crosses over to the small cabinet on the wall to the left of the fireplace, opens the door, and reaches in. He pulls out a bar of soap, a scrub brush, and a towel. He smiles as he returns to the bottom of the table, setting the towel down over his right leg, he dips the brush and soap into the bucket and lathers it up. "We'll start with a good scrubbing."

Zander smiles, kicking his legs in anticipation, and Thaddeus smiles at him. "Do you remember our safe word?"

"Pineapple!"

"Good, and you remember the rules?"

"Say pineapple when I want you to stop!"

"Good, good, you know the rules." He drops the bar of soap in the bucket and leans over to his right foot. "Let's begin our session." He kneels, curling his the fingers of his right hand around the top of his foot and presses the scrub brush to his sole, and Zander squeals in anticipation, it makes him chuckle softly. "I haven't done anything yet."

"I know!"

He shakes his head, one of his favorites indeed, and sets to scrubbing the brush over the little angel's bare sole. Zander squeals brightly, kicking his foot around, curling his toes up as he scrubs over his sole. "This foot is mighty dirty, isn't it?"

"Thahahahahhahhaaddyyyyy! AAhahahhahahahheeieiieieaiiaiaiaiahahahhahahahaha! Nohohohohohohohooho eieieiieaiaiaihahahhahahahhahahaaiaieiiiaiaiaiaeieiieieiaiaaiahhahahahahahha!"

"We can't forget these toes." He curls his index finger around the boy's big toe and pulls it back, uncurling his toes, and rubs the brush over the backs of the little toes. "These need a good scrubbing too."

Zander throws himself up, twisting his foot around in his grasp, reaching out to grab the older angel. He doesn't push him away, he curls his fingers into the shoulders of his tunic, and tugs lightly, cackling and shrieking with laughter.

"Let's not forget the other foot." He moves over to the other foot, giving that sole a good scrubbing too, getting up under the toes. "Here we go. That's much better. All clean."

The boy's chest heaves when he pulls away, dropping the brush back in the bucket, he pulls away from his hands as he turns, depositing the bucket on the table behind him, and turns back for the towel, drying his feet gently. "Now we don't have to wash them before our nap."

"Buhuhut we juhuhust had breheheakfast!"

"I know we did, but you know how this works, mister." Thaddeus pokes him in the nose and he giggles harder, batting at his hand. "We have our session and then you have a nap."

"You'll nap with me, right?"

"Sure, I will," he pokes him on the nose again. "I know you'll just follow me around if I don't."

"Darn right I will."

"I knew it," he pokes him in the nose one last time. "Enough talking, this is interrupting our session." He presses his other hand to the boy's chest, pushing him back down again, Zander giggles as he lays back. "Arms up." He raises his arms above his head. "Good boy, now," he reaches for his whip hanging curled up just off the side of his belt. "You hold on to this and keep those arms up." The boy curls his fingers around his wound-up whip, and giggles in anticipation, squirming on his back. "You remember what happens if you pull your arms down?"

"Straps!"

"Very good, what else?"

"Lots of berries!"

Thaddeus smiles down at him. "You just know all the answers, don't you?" Zander giggles again, nodding his head, smiling up at him brightly. He loves these things. Thaddy makes everything so much fun. He really loves Thaddy. He's really happy he's back to himself again and acknowledges his existence. "You remember our safe word, right?"

"Pineapple!"

"Good, let's get to it." He leans over his right armpit, poking his two pointer fingers into the open space, Zander inhales deeply, curling his fingers tighter around the whip in his grasp. "I've always loved these armpits, they've always been mighty ticklish, they're my favorite." He wiggles his fingers around and the boy shrieks with laughter, scrunching his arms up slightly, they bend forward just a tad, and Thaddeus laughs softly, looking back at him. "Arms up, mister!" Zander throws his arms back up and shrieks as the fingers begin wiggling around again, struggling against the desire to lower his arms again, it makes it so much worse, in his opinion.

"Eeehehehehehheaahahahahhahahahahahah Thahahhahahahaaddyyyy! Aahahahahahahhahahaahe plehehehehhehaahahahhease! Ahahahahahahhahahah eieieieieiiaiaiaiaiahahhahahahhahaheeiieiahahahahahhahahaa! Nohohohhohohoo eehahhahahhahahahahahahahha!"

He chuckles, fluttering the fingers of his right hand over the exposed armpit, standing back up, he leans against the side of the table with his hip. "I could tickle these armpits all day." He shakes his head lightly, humming in pleasure. "Listen to the sound of that sweet, sweet laughter."

"Thahahahahhahaddyyyy! Thahahahahaddyyyy I ahahahhahahaha hahahahhahave soohohohohomething toohhohohoho sahahahahhaay!"

"You have something to say?" The Warden leans over him, pausing his attack. "What have you got to say?"

Zander giggles up at him. "I love you."

He chuckles softly. "I love you too, kiss?" The boy nods, puckering his lips up, and he leans over, pressing a quick kiss over them. "You want more tickles?"

The boy nods lightly, bracing himself. "I'm ready!"

"Good," Thaddeus braces his arm slightly. "It's not a session without berries."

"EIIEIEIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAA AHAHHAHAHAEIIEIEAIAIAIHAHAHAHAHAHA PIHIHIHIHINEHEHEHEHHEAIAIIAIIAHAHHAHAAPPPPLLEEEHEHHEHEHEHEHE! PINEAPPLE! EEIEIIAIAIAAIHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHHAHAHEIEIIEAIAIAIHAHAHAAHHAHHAHA! PINEAPPLE! THADDY, AAHAHHAHAHAHAA PINEAPPLE!"

"Okay, we're done." He pulls away, and the boy curls his arms up, clutching tightly at his whip, he sits up, curling his arms around his belly. Thaddeus takes his whip back, and crosses around to the bottom of the table, unstrapping his ankles, he tugs him down the length of the table. "Time for our nap."

Zander curls around him, resting his head on the man's shoulder, giggling into the side of his neck. He chuckles slightly, rubbing at the back of his head lightly, walking around the table towards the door. "Was it too much?"

"Noho! Fun!"

"Good," he opens the door and turns the corner, taking the steps slowly, one at a time, there's no rush for them to get there. "I wanted you to have fun." He pushes open the door to his room, walks in, and pushes the door closed behind him. "You like tickles, don't you?" It's now or never.

The youngling nods lightly, his giggles having died down, he was sleepy now, despite having just finished breakfast an hour ago. They were always tired after their sessions. "Mhmmm."

"I knew it." He leans over the side of his bed and gently lowers the youngling down over it. Zander smiles, curling up on his side, cuddling down under the blankets as he pulls them up over him. He turns away, and the boy whines, reaching out for him. "Thaaadddyyyy!" He leans over, plopping down on the edge of the bed, ruffling his curls lightly. "I'm not going anywhere; I'm just taking my boots off."

That seems to appease the boy, and he settles back down, watching him lean over to untie his boots and pull them off. He sets them to rest at the edge of the bed and turns around, curling towards him, opening his arms invitingly, Zander scoots closer, settling against him, between his arms, and exhales deeply as he settles down.

"I love you, Thaddy."

"I love you too, Zan."


	76. Using The Secret Word

It had been the longest week in his entire life.

Metatron had been picking on him all week, and no matter how many times Sabaoth told him to shut up, he kept going, and no matter how much he assured him that none of what he was told was true, it still hurt to hear it. He tried his hardest to keep his anger in check, not ruin his chances of getting a new toy at the end of the week, or get his toys taken away, or be sent to bed without playtime. He loved playtime. It was his favorite time of the day. Sabaoth asked him about his toys a lot, which one was his favorite, which one he thought was the most fun to play with, which one he played with more often, what his new toys were, all of the above. Sabaoth tried his best to keep him distracted from the cruel taunts being thrown his way.

How he wasn't good enough.

The Power was just humoring him.

How he had failed at the one thing that would make him a somebody.

Rahab and Osmadiel told him to shut up too, but the exiled scribe would just laugh, and say that he was speaking nothing but the truth.

One whole week of that, and he was at his breaking point, he wanted to hit something or break something or tear something. He wanted to punch Metatron in the face, more then once, until his jaw was broken in two and he couldn't spew another cruel word.

Sabaoth had told him to go see Titus, before they'd parted ways, the older guard, his partner heading in the direction of his own room to turn in early for the night. He had a headache and there was nothing better to calm a headache but to rest.

He said that Titus would make him feel better again. Titus always knew how to make them feel better. Titus would be happy to help him feel better again.

Titus would help.

So, he took his guiding suggestion to heart, Titus was nice to him, he gave him a new toy at the end of every week that he controlled his temper and didn't lash out for unjustified reasons, he gave him a new toy. He loved his toys, he loved playing with them, whether it be in Titus's office or in his room, he loved playing with his toys. His most favorite toys were his robot and wooden train, because they'd been the first toys he'd gotten from his captain and their Captain, his second most favorite was his stuffed dolphin, whom he had named Splash. His favorite kind of toy to get was the Lego toys, he liked putting them together, to see what they created. He knew that Titus took them out of the box they came in, giving him only a bag full of little Lego pieces and the instructions detailing how to put them together, so that the creation was a surprise. He liked that Titus did that. He liked surprises.

Titus came to say good night, every night, and he'd sit on the edge of his bed as he pulled the blankets up to his chin and ask him about his day, and he listened to everything he said, he listened to it and remembered it, he didn't just nod along and hum in mock acknowledgement.

He put an extra table in his room, it was a small table, that was covered in the little pieces of a half completed puzzle, they were putting working on it together.

Sorath stopped by his room first, on his way there, to put his sword away and change into some comfortably clothing, before heading his way upstairs. He knows Titus will be in his room, the sun is slowly setting, training completed just an hour before, and it was time to wind down and relax now.

The Lounge is empty when he finally makes his way up to the top, above the barracks, into the Pavilion. The only one present is Nisroc, mixing something in the cooking pot over the simmering fire in the cooking fireplace, and he when he turns to see who has come up to their home and smiles in greeting to the young guard. "Hello, Sora."

"Hi."

"Looking for Tus?" He turns, dropping what he had been chopping up on the counter into the pot, and stirs it, turning back to him again.

The young guard nods. "Yes."

"He's down in his room. Third door on the right." He tests the creation in the pot and hums, turning for some spices in the built in shelf in the stone fireplace. "We've got more then enough stew. I'll make you up a bowl when it's done. You can eat here with us."

The young guard thanks him softly, turning down the hallway, counting the doors as he passes them. He stops just outside the third one on the right, staring at the wooden obstacle in front of him. Titus had said he could always come to him, they both knew their secret word, he said he'd do anything he asked of him, within reason, he only need to ask.

Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door, waiting for the call from within to grant him entrance. When he hears it, he takes another deep breath, and pushes the door open. His captain looks surprised to see him, sitting on the edge of his bed, but smiles at him none the less. "Hello, Sora," he tilts his head slightly. "What can I do for you?"

He knew, of course, the kind of week the young guard had experienced. Sabaoth had come in to tell him on Wednesday, he was going to have words with him on Saturday, so that his young guard didn't know.

Sorath takes a deep breath, holding himself carefully, he doesn't truly know if he meant it when he said to merely ask him if he needed anything.

"Robot."

He watches as the Power nods once, throwing himself forward for him, and yelps when arms catch him around the waist and the Power stands, lifting him up over his shoulder. "C'mere you." He shrieks at the sudden change of position, gripping the back of the Power's tunic as he turns quickly, kicking his door shut, this is a private moment and he doesn't want his charge to feel uncomfortable. He carries the young guard around his room for a moment, putting the book he had been reading back on his desk, pulling the blankets back into place, and then he bends forward, pulling the younger angel from over his shoulder over onto his bed. Sorath looks up at him with big bright eyes, shining with anticipation and excitement, and he smiles down at him gently. "Come on, lay back on the pillows, they won't bite you."

Sorath giggles lightly, pulling himself up onto the Power's bed more completely, his head cushioned on the pillows, and he flops down into a comfortable position. Giggling lightly when the Power crawls up from the foot of his bed, playful in nature, smiling at him as he stalks forward, coming to loom over him.

"You want some tickles?" The young guard nods, his smile bright and childlike, peering up at his captain with an excited shine to his gaze. "You want _me_ to give you some tickles?" The Power smiles down at him, leaning forward, slowly lowering himself towards the side of his neck, Sorath's giggling grows in quantity and he scrunches his shoulder up in anticipation, the Power chuckles as he's forced to a halt. He curls the fingers of his right hand over his shoulder lightly. "Open up."

He shakes his head, scrunched up like a turtle, shrieking when fingers wiggle over the other side of his neck, and he immediately turns to that side. The Power chuckles again, pulling his shoulder down quickly, and buries his face into that side of his neck. Sorath squeals brightly, turning back to that side, but the older angel is already in. "My pillows may not bite." He nibbles lightly at his neck and Sorath shrieks brightly. "But I most certainly do." He shakes his head, blowing a light raspberry, before nibbling playfully again. "You're mighty tasty."

"Tuhuhus!"

The Power smiles against his neck, presses a kiss to the smooth skin, and pulls back, looming over him again. "We know your neck is ticklish, but are you ticklish anywhere else?" Sorath shakes his head, giggling like a fledgling, and the Power smiles down at him fondly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose playfully. "You're not going to say?" The young guard shakes his head again. "You want me to find out on my own?" He giggles up at him and he smiles at him endearingly. "It's like a giggly scavenger hunt."

He wiggles his fingers above him, and the young guard giggles pick up in pace, eyes jumping from one hand to the other.

"Okay, so we know your little neck makes you all giggly," he leans forward, wiggling his fingers against the smooth skin gently, but playfully, and Sorath makes a choked giggling sound, scrunching up around his fingers. "What about here?" He points at his arms and Sorath shakes his head quickly, Titus smiles down at him, tilting his head slightly. "Now, why don't I believe that?"

Sorath giggles and shakes his head again, clamping his arms down tightly, and the Power chuckles. "I feel like you're hiding something I'd like from me?" He raises his arms slightly. "Arms up, little angel."

He throws his arms up, and immediately back down when fingers dig into his underarms, he squeals brightly, pressing back into the pillow deeply as he laughs with boisterous excitement, happiness shining in his eyes every time he opens them. "I _knew_ you were hiding a tickle spot from me." Titus's intertwines his fingers with his young little guard's and lifts his left arm up over his head. He wiggles the fingers of his right hand above him. "And, for that," He smiles down at the guard, biting his lip, giggles still managing to escape, staring at his wiggling fingers intensely. "You get armpit tickles." He digs his wiggling fingers into his underarm, chuckling softly at the laughter that explodes from the guard, the way he arches under him, presses his head back into the pillow again.

"I think I like this spot." Titus pokes his underarm repetitively, wiggling a single finger into the hollow area, and smiles at the happiness that shines in his young angels eyes. After the week he's had, he needs some tickles and laughter, something to lift his mood again, and he'd be more than happy to assist. "This may be my new favorite spot." He carries on for a minute more, just savoring the belly laughter, before he lets go of his hand and pulls back. "Okay, we have two spots, let's see if we can find any more."

He looks down at his torso, poking a few fingers into his ribcage, and raises his eyebrows at the high pitched giggles. "Oh, do we have something here?" He pokes his fingers over his inner torso. "Is it the inner ribs?" He pokes around a bit but all he gets are a few high pitched giggles. "Or the outer ribs?" Titus pokes his fingers over his outer ribs, and the reaction is much different, he squeals brightly, and begins squirming side to side. "Oh, outer ribs for sure."

Sorath giggles deeply, his chest heaving lightly, when he pulls his hands back again. Wiggling his fingers above him, the giggles increase in volume, he dips one hand, and he jumps to one side, dips the other, and he jumps to the other. "Where's it going to go?" His giggles grow into soft laughter, shrieking with each dip his hands making, jumping from one side to the other. "Let's try both." He digs his fingers into both sides of his rib cage, spidering them all over, and the young guard squeals brightly. "Oh, both was a good idea." He leans forward, over him, and digs in a bit harsher. Sorath screams with laughter, twisting and turning, trying to dislodge those torturous fingers from his ribs. "Coochie, coochie, coo, little angel."

"What about your sides?" He wiggles his fingers down to his sides, and smiles with he gains himself another squeal, spidering his fingers up and down his sides, he teases him. "Tickle, tickle, tickle, little angel." He stops, resting his fingers against his abused sides, and his uproarious laughter slowly calms into giggles, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. "Have you had enough tickles, little guy?"

The young guard giggles breathlessly, smiling up at him for a long moment, no response to his question being made just yet. After a long moment, his breathing slowly evening out, he begins giggling again and shakes his head.

Titus chuckles down at him. "No?" He wiggles a finger into his side. "You need more tickles?"

He nods quickly.

"Okay, little guy, I can give you more tickles." He pokes him in the belly. "What about this belly, is this belly a wee bit ticklish?" Sorath smiles, giggling harder, and sucks in his belly as much as he can. The Power smiles at his action. "I'm going to take that as a yes, this is a ticklish little belly." He pokes his fingers around his lower belly, up around his belly button, and then over his upper belly, all around, his laughter is a bubbly, fledgling like, laughter that makes him laugh softly with him. "Something inside me wants to give this belly a bit of a tickle torture." He retracts his hands, his wiggling fingers, and gently he slides his hands up under his tunic, posing his fingers over his bare belly. "I'm going to tickle torture this belly."

Sorath squeals when he digs his fingers in.

When he lifts his tunic up from over his belly and he buries his face into the smooth shaking skin.

He squeals when he nibbles on the slight pudge of his lower belly.

He squeals with every kiss and raspberry he presses and blows against his shaking belly.

He squeals and squirms and laughs, head thrown back, pushing against the Power's head as much as he can.

It takes a long couple of minutes, and he's breathless by the time he does, but the Power pulls back and tugs his tunic back down. "More tickles, little angel?"

The young guard shakes his head, giggling breathlessly, and curls up slightly when the Power climbs off his waist, falling next to him on the pillows. "C'mere, baby angel." He tugs lightly on the young guards sleeve, until he slinks over and collapses against his side, cuddled up against him, and the Power runs his fingers through his wavy locks gently. "Feel better?"

Sorath nods.

"Good." He scratches lightly at his scalp. "You know what he says is not true. I'm not just humoring you, I happen to be very fond of you, you're mine."

He looks up at the Power. "I'm yours?"

Titus nods, looking down at him, and smiles gently. "My little angel. All mine. I'm not sharing you with any one else." He squeezes him close for a moment and settles them back down again. "Metatron is a spiteful little man, don't listen to a word he says, it's just not true."

"He said I was a failure."

"Not fitting into one role doesn't make you a failure." He leans his head against the young guards, pressing their foreheads together, he kisses his nose lightly. "Being a Power just didn't fit. But you're a wonderful guard, Sabaoth has nothing but good things to say about you, that's where you fit. That's your calling." He kisses the side of his head and lays back down. "It most certainly means you are not a failure."

"So, I'm good."

"You are a very good angel, little guy, you have your moments, but we all do, that most certainly doesn't make you bad."

They lay there in companionable silence for a while, Sorath even dozes off against the mighty Power for a short while, his fingers brushing through his hair comforting him down to light slumber, and Titus just lays there, petting his fingers through his young angel's hair, eyes closed as he relaxes against his pillows.

Their silence is broken by the soft knock on his door.

"Supper's on, come and get it while it's warm."

"Coming, Nis." He opens his eyes, sighing deeply, and turns to look at his young guard. Smiling to himself, he scratches at his scalp softly. "Sora, you have to wake up." He mumbles softly and nuzzles closer. "Come on, Sora, are you hungry?"

The guard nods lightly.

"Then let's go get some stew."

He shakes his head slightly and nuzzles closer.

Titus chuckles. "We can come back here after supper, okay?"

Sorath thinks on it, takes it as a good deal, and slowly sits up.


	77. A Negative Into A Positive

"You wanted something?", Gadreel asked. He was shirtless and sitting on his bed. He hadn't expected anybody to enter at that moment and hid his surprise well behind a mask of stoic. The Power's eyes travelled over the beaten skin, the etchings and the raised lines of whip marks, the retired Sentry's back was littered with the scars.

Evidence of his living through actual hell.

The evidence of one of their greatest mistakes, one of many, a haunting reminder for all those who saw it.

He nods, leaning against the door frame lightly, nodding towards the tunic in his hands. "You've been trying to put that on for the better half of fifteen minutes."

"You've been standing there watching me trying to put on a tunic?"

"For longer then I should have," he shrugs lightly. "I didn't want to interrupt, I know how stubborn you can be, first hand knowledge."

Gadreel nods, looking down at the tunic in his hands, sighing deeply and looking back up. "Can you help me?"

He nods, pushing away from the doorframe, entering the room quietly, handheld out for the tunic. He shakes it out lightly and frowns, long sleeves, in this weather, this was going to be too much. He looks up to the Sentry, a light frown marring his features, lifting the tunic up slightly with raised eyebrows.

"Reel, it's almost too hot for short sleeved tunics, you are not wearing a long sleeved one."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you are not." He tosses the tunic on the bed and gestures for the wardrobe. "Get a short sleeved tunic."

"I can't."

He tilts his head in concern, resting his hands lightly on his hips, curious as to this sudden confession. "Why not?"

"Because then everyone will see them."

"See what?"

He gestures to himself in exasperation, throwing his hands about in an overexaggerated fashion, and Titus comes to the realization before he can express it with words. "My scars. Everyone sees them, and stares, I don't like it."

"I see, Reel, I'm sorry, but everyone's going to see them. You can't just wear long sleeves for the rest of your life, or that's going to be a rather warm life you're going to live."

"I'm prepared for the heat."

"Oh, really?" He crosses his arms lightly. "Do tell."

The Sentry reaches behind him, turning at the waist slightly, to pick something up from the bed. Titus raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the waterskin he holds up. "Really?"

"It's water. What combats heat better then water?"

He heaves an exasperated sigh, shaking his head fondly, as he turns to the wardrobe, pulling open the door, it's a rather large wardrobe, two sides for hanging and two shelves for trousers, he reaches into the right side for a hanger, places the long sleeved tunic over it, hangs it back in, and pulls out a short sleeved tunic. Turning back to the young retired Sentry, he holds the new tunic out to him, Gadreel eyes it with disdain, he has scars spidering all up his arms, old scars, sometimes they ached, but regularly the only problem was the sight of them.

"You're not leaving this room unless you put this _short-sleeved_ tunic on."

Gadreel crosses his scarred arms lightly, shaking his head stubbornly, refusing to even consider the idea of putting that tunic on and leaving the room in it. "I'm not coming out wearing that. Everyone will see."

"There's nothing wrong with your scars, the represent triumph, a hardship you didn't let control who you were. Be proud of them."

"Everyone _stares_ Tus."

"They're going to stare whether you wear this short sleeved tunic, or that long sleeved one, it'll fade with time. You can't hole yourself up for the rest of your life, it's not just unhealthy, I'm not going to allow it."

"It shows how broken I am. I've been ruined. I'm flawed now."

Titus crosses his own arms loosely. "Everyone has flaws."

"You don't."

He nods. "I do. I just don't let it define me. I own it."

"I'm ugly, Tus, I'm disfigured."

"You are _not_ disfigured. True beauty is what is underneath the skin, not outside, you're still as beautiful as they day you were created, and I would know, I was there."

Though he had been young then, he was indeed there the day the young Sentry had been 'born' to them, he'd gotten to hold him right after Michael had.

"You're only saying that to get what you want."

"Okay, I can see this is going to take more then words," he uncrosses his arms and steps forward. Marching across the room for the young Sentry. "You need to have some body positivity." Gadreel raises his arms to catch the Power's hands with his own, when he reaches out to grab him, and they grapple slightly for the upper hand. Titus pushes him backwards, towards the bed behind him, and Gadreel puts up quite a struggle, he's an honorable opponent. But he's no match for the older angel, not at the end of the day, and he yelps as his knees hit the edge of the bed and he tumbles backwards over the edge, collapsing over onto the mattress below him.

Titus crawls up over him, straddling his waist, he hooks his fingers under his arms to drag him up further onto the bed, before gently lowering himself over the young Sentry's legs. He looks down at the younger angel's bare belly and smiles, poking into the skin softly, smiling at the light soft giggle such an action elicited.

"You're belly still looks like it always has." He pokes a finger into the smooth, blemished skin, smiling when his fingers sinks in gently, the Sentry was still as fit as ever, but he'd put on a bit more weight, which suited him, he was as thin as a twig. "Still just as squishy as it was before." Wiggling his finger in a bit, he smiles when the belly squirms under him. "Still just as squirmy as I remember." He wiggles a finger in the other side of his belly and smiles again at the similar reaction he faces. "This side too?" He nods playfully. "Very good, very good."

Gadreel laughs softly, squirming from side to side, watching the finger wiggling into the left side of his belly with wide eyes.

Scars littered his belly, neither of them was blind to them, they spider'd around, overlapping and crossing, lines drawn into the skin permanently. But perhaps they could turn them into something better then just painful reminders of the past, it's best to not dwell on the past, it does no good.

"Oh, look, a line." He sticks his finger at the end. "I wonder where it leads." He traces his finger lightly around the squiggly line, light pitched giggles filling in the empty space around them, his belly wiggling under him from the light touch tracing up the fine scar under his belly button. "Oh, it stops here, I wonder what it is." Gadreel shrieks with laughter when he digs his fingers into his side, wiggling playfully, torturing the sensitive skin with tickles. "Oh, look at that, a spot for giggles."

He finds another long scar, tracing his finger over it slowly. "I wonder where this one leads." Gadreel tries to suck in his belly but his giggles make it rather difficult, he looses the breath as soon as he takes it, and his belly puffs back out again. "Right," the finger circles around his belly button. "About," it slows as it closes in. "Here", the finger dips into his belly button and the young Sentry squeals with laughter. "Oh, a spot of gold. Or, I should say, more like a happy button." He stills his finger and the Sentry stares down at him with wide eyes, giggling still under his breath. "On," he wiggles his finger and the young Sentry shrieks with laughter, shaking his hips from side to side, the Power chuckles softly under his breath. "Off." He stills and the younger angel's laughter tones down to soft giggles, waiting in anticipation for another attack, he doesn't wait long, Titus is impatient when it comes to tickles. "On, again." His finger wiggles in again and the younger angel squeals in laughter again, reaching down to bat at the Power's hand, Titus laughs softly and catches the offending appendage, pulling it away with his right hand, as he traces his the pointer finger of his left over another scar, it winds around the side of his belly, down to his left hip, and up over the curve of his left side. "Oh, what have we here, what treasure awaits us at the end of this path?"

Gadreel's giggles grow in volume as the Power smiles, the fingers of his left-hand curling over his right hip, his head slowly lowering. "I think I'm going to…" He squeals with laughter when the Power takes a deep breath and buries his face into his side, blowing out a loud vicious raspberry against the bump blemished skin. He laughs softly as he pulls away, looking up to meet his eyes, they sparkle with mirth. He winks, looking back down at his side, humming playfully. "Look, another treasure path." He follows it up, pulling his arm further away, following it upwards. "Oh, it leads up to some ribs." He licks his lips playfully, looking back up at him. "They look mighty tasty." He hums deeply. "I think I might have a taste." The Sentry shakes his head lightly, and he nods in turn, dipping down for his left ribs.

The young angel squeals when he begins to nibble, blowing a vicious raspberry over his highest rib, nibbling down the raised line that covers the left side of his rib cage, and he shrieks, curling around to try and pull away from the torturous Power, Tus's touches are light as a feather, it's the worst.

"Here's another one." Gadreel giggles wildly as he watches the Power trace another scar down to his belly, circling his belly button again. "It leads back to the happy button." He hums softly, tilting his head, as he taps his fingers against the side of his belly, both sides, and his giggles increase. "I wonder, we know pushing the happy button makes those cute little shrieks, I wonder what this will do." He takes a deep breath and rushes down, blowing a deep monstrous raspberry over his belly button, once, then twice.

The young angel screams with laughter, kicking his legs as best as he can under the heavy form of the Power, pushing desperately against his head as he blows another big raspberry over his belly.

Titus laughs softly as he looks up at him, the young angel's wide watering with mirth and laughter, and he smiles softly at the sight of them. "Do you feel better, or do I need to follow another treasure trail?"

"No! No, I feel better!" Gadreel giggles feverishly as ten fingers wiggling lightly over his waistline. "I feel much, much better!"

"Are you going to stop being so stubborn, put that tunic on, and come out with me?"

"But," he averts his eyes again, the scars are a big thing for him, Titus knows this. "What if they stare."

"Then, let them, let them see the evidence of your triumph."

"That's easy for you to say." Gadreel sighs sadly if a bit breathlessly. "You don't look like this."

"You know what, you're right." Titus pokes his belly one last time, and crawls off his legs, he tosses the younger angel's tunic on the desk top next to him, and tugs on the neck of his own tunic, tugging it up over his head, and tosses it over top of the smaller tunic on the desk top. Gadreel stares at him, eyes tracing over the thin web like scars that mar the Power's skin, they look a lot like his does, they crisscross and interweave each other, painting a pattern over the surface. "Not so different now, are we?" He turns, and Gadreel's eyes widen at all the scars that litter his frame, there's a rather large on, the shape of a star, over his left shoulder, some faint outlines of sigils mar the skin under his neck.

How had he never noticed these before.

"I prefer for people to know me for who _I_ am." Titus looks at him from over his shoulder, as if reading his mind, and understanding his awestruck confusion. "So they see me for who I am. Not for what I look like." His rubs his fingers over the scarred sigils over the back of his neck, they wrap around, like a collar carved into his own flesh. "They used to stare at me too. You know I usually go shirtless when it's a rather hot day of training, especially if it's vigorous training, no use overheating in a tunic, no matter how light it might be." He turns back around to face him, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "They used to stare all the time, every time they saw me, and it made me feel just as self-conscious as you do. They'll get bored of it before you know it. The staring never stops. Someone will always stare. But this," he rubs his hands over his blemished skin. "This is all physical, superficial, they can mar your body, but they can never mar your spirit." He points at him playfully. "And that's all that really matters."

"H—How?" Gadreel climbs up from the bed, eyes wide as he takes in the blemishes, all of them, the bigger picture.

Titus looks down at his chest, his front, rubbing his fingertips over the raised skin, then up to his neck, the faded sigils etched in deeply, they'd never go away. "When I first became a Power, we went on a mission, my first as a new Elect, we were separated, and I was captured. I was kept their prison for a month, they were not nice, to say the least." He smiles down at the young Sentry, tilting his head back slightly as pale finger reach up to run over the runes carved into his flesh. "Dampening runes. A collar could be removed, so they carved them into the flesh, the only way to remove them would be to peal the flesh off." He ran his fingers over the runes himself. "They had to be carved again when I finally got back, so the rune could be broken, hurt just as bad the second time."

"Y-You look l-like me?"

"We're the same, Reel." The Power reaches out to cradle his cheeks, tilting his head up to meet his eyes, and he smiles down at him. "And, if I can do it, you can do it too. I _know_ you can." He rubs his thumbs over his cheek bones. "We'll go out like this together, so they can stare at me, just as much as they stare at you, you won't be alone. Not while I'm here. Not while Abner is here. Tragedy shapes us, but it doesn't define us."

Gadreel seems nervous, but a determined light comes to his eyes, and he nods. "Okay."

Titus smiles down at him again. "Ready?"

He nods firmly. "Ready." Still, despite his determination, he curls around the tall Power's arm loosely, as they turn out the door and make their way down the hall, coming to stand at the last step of the tunnel that led from the Training Field to the Pavilion above, their home, where they were okay to be themselves, in all their own ways. "Hey," he looks up to his guardian. "Stay with me and you'll be fine. You can do this. You're stronger then you even know."

Gadreel nods, looking back down to the Training Field before them, and the Power steps them down from the final stair. As was expected, others turned, staring at them with wide horrified eyes. Gadreel whimpered softly, ducking back into the Power's side, he curled his arm around him tightly and turned a firm glare on those who turned to stare at them, they turned back to their tasks at the harsh gaze.

"Come on, little bit." He guides them forward, towards his own squadron, training next to his Captains. Nisroc makes his way through the rows, his arms crossed lightly over his chest, watching them go through the motions with a critical eye, he smiles as he turns, spotting their approach, raising an eyebrow as he takes in their appearance. "Hello, Tus," he smiles down at the Sentry hiding in his brother's side. "Reel."

He eyes his brother critically. "It's been some time since I've last seen you like this, without it being through training, it's been some time indeed."

"I'm here for solidarity."

The Captain nods softly. "How'd you convince _him_ to come down here like that?"

Titus looks down at the little Sentry and he giggles softly as he shrinks against his side.

Nisroc hums knowingly, smiling in amusement, as he looks back to his younger brother. "Did you trace the little _'treasure lines'_?" Titus chuckles and jerks a quick nod. "Remember when I used to do that to you?" He reaches up slightly, tracing a finger over the side of his neck, causing the younger Power to eep and jerk away. "As I recall, it was always your neck that got you the most."

"Don't you dare."

He hums softly, eyes shining mischievously. "We'll see."


	78. The Missing Blue

He was just finishing up for the day when the door to his office flew open, a guard stumbled in with a flourish of a rush, and topples forward, bracing himself against his knees as he inhales breath after breath. He watches the guard with a raised eyebrow and drops the last file into his desk drawer, sliding it closed gently, he turns back to rest his hands on his desk. "What's going on Marmaroth?"

"Sir…..Sir…."

"Catch your breath, first."

The guard nods in appreciation and takes a moment, catching his breath, he'd sprinted all the way here. "Sir, Zazriel is having a meltdown."

He quirks an eyebrow. "A meltdown?" And tilts his head. "About what?"

Marmaroth rubs his forehead with the back of his hand. "He just keeps screaming that he can't find _'Blue'_ , sir, he's a mess."

"I see, where did Zazriel spend the day today?"

The guard stands back up. "In the atrium."

"Thank you, Mar," he pushes his seat back and stands, stepping out from behind his desk, he pats the guard on the arm as he walks passed him. "You're dismissed, Mar, go get some sleep." He continues on his way towards the back of the Prison, to the two double doors, not locked yet, he'll lock them when he comes back in. Pushing the right door open, he steps out, and his eye catches it immediately, the missing _'Blue'_ sitting under the tree in the right corner of the atrium. Whistling to himself, he steps forward, stepping around balls and such, toys for the minors to play with during outdoor time, and reaches out to pick _'Blue'_ up. Dusting it off, he tucks it under his arm, and turns back for the doors. He locks them up once he's in, pushing on them to make sure they don't budge, he checks the door for the Solitary block, making sure that door doesn't budge, and nods to the two guards posted beside it, he continues on his way down the hall.

Around the left corner, the last cell on the right side of the minors block is his destination, and true to his word, the occupant within is having a true meltdown. Screams and sobs echo down the hall, the whispers and mutterings of guards trying to calm them down fills the spaces between, and he whistles to himself as he comes to stand just a pace before the open cell and clears his throat.

The two guards look up, appreciations shining in their eyes as they do, as he waves them back, away from the wailing prisoner.

His whistling falls silent as he steps into the cell, squatting before the distraught boy, and holds up his stuffed companion. "Hey, hey Zaz, it's alright, look who I found."

The wailing prisoner opens his eyes, his sobs falling short, coming to a sudden silence at the sight of the beloved stuffed bear named _'Blue'_. "B—B—Blue?"

"I found him, it's okay, you just left him outside." He holds the bear out to him. "Here, take Blue, give him a big hug, he missed you just as much as you missed him."

The boy takes his beloved stuffed bear, hugging it close to his chest, pressing his nose against the soft plush head. He hiccups softly as he pulls his bear away, looking down at it, he touches a finger to the bow around it's neck, and hugs it again, curling it in his arms as tightly as he can manage. Zazriel looks up at him with red puffy eyes. "T—Thanks, Thaddy."

"It's not a problem." The Warden ruffles his honey brown curls lightly. "Next time, let's leave Blue inside, and take another one of your friends out to play, okay?"

The younger angel nods lightly, still hugging his bear to his chest, and presses a kiss to the soft fur.

Thaddeus smiles at him gently. "Okay, let's get in bed, you and Blue had a busy day, you two must be very sleepy." Zazriel complies as he helps him to his feet, guiding him over to his bed along the wall, the older angel pulls the blankets back and guides him down into bed, resting on his side, down against the pillow, bear still curled in his arms, he tucks the youth in softly. "There we go. See, everything's okay, we've got Blue back and we're in bed for some sleeps." He tucks the blanket up under his chin, rubbing a knuckle over his cheek lightly, he turns, lighting the new candle on the small table with his finger. "Alright, we're all snuggled in, we have Blue, we have our light lit, are we missing anything?"

Zazriel shakes his head, yawning lightly as he presses his nose against the fluff of the bear's head, looking up at the Warden with half lidded eyes. "No, all good now."

"All better?"

He nods slightly. "All better, Thaddy."

"Good," he strokes his cheek again and stands up, making to leave the cell. "The guards will being making their rounds, you two get some sleep, if you need me, just ask one of the guards to come get me, okay, Zaz?"

The young prisoner nods again, rubbing his nose over the bear's fur, and closes his eyes softly. "Okay, Thaddy."


	79. A Scolded Puppy

"Zoph, go stay with Saba."

Zophiel knows that tone, he knows that's the _'Thaddys angry'_ tone, and he knows not to argue with that tone, so he merely pats his puppy guard on the head and scurries out of the Warden's office, leaving his bestest friend behind to face his fate on his own. Qaspiel can't blame him. If he was told to leave with that tone, he'd run too, run fast, and run far.

"What's this I hear about you biting one of my prisoners?"

The guard stays in puppy form, whining softly, he lowers himself to the floor, covering his eyes with his paws. Thaddeus resists the urge to smile at the sight, reminding himself that he has to be firm, as it's adorable and he just wants to cuddle the cute little puppy until he feels better. But he did wrong, and he has to be scolded for it, so he must solder on.

"No, no, you look at me when I'm talking to you." The puppy peeks out from under his paws, whining again, giving him those big round eyes, trying to soften his heart, and damn it, it's most certainly working. "I want you to explain to me why you attacked one of my prisoners, mister."

' _They…..They made baby brother cry.'_

That throws him for a moment, call him a papa bear if you want, but he's protective of his kids. Even the ones who don't know they're his yet, like Zazriel, he was a little shit, sometimes, he reminded him of Sora in some of his mannerisms, he was starting to draw a few conclusions about that little guy. "They made Zoph cry?"

The puppy barks softly. _'They said he was going to die in here before seeing his freedom.'_

"I see," well, that certainly turns this around. "That's a matter I'll have to look into, that does not, however, give you clearance to _bite_ someone. If that happens, you bring the matter to me, and I deal with it myself."

' _I got them to say sorry though.'_

"That's not the point, Qasp, and you know it, don't try that on me."

The puppy whines and covers his eyes with his paws again. _'Sorry, big brother, I was bad.'_

Okay, his heart isn't made of stone, and that, that right there, broke it. He pushes his chair back, standing from his seat, he shimmers as he steps out from behind his desk. The young puppy looks up at the large hound that trots out towards him and barks softly, kicking lightly when the Warden Hound snags him up by the scruff and carries him over to the dog bed under the window.

Plopping him down between his two front legs, the older Hound licks at his head lightly, down around his ears, and up under his chin, as he rolls over to lay on his side under the affections and attention. _'You are not bad, baby brother, you did something wrong, but you were just protecting our boy.'_

His puppy companion barks softly, turning over onto its back, looking up at the older hound with bright blue eyes. _'Not mad?'_

The older hound huffs, barking softly in turn, and leans down to lick his little chest. _'No, I'm not mad.'_ He nudges the puppy's belly with his nose. _'Let me see this fluffy belly.'_ And swipes a massive lick over the puppy's soft belly.

Qaspiel shrieks, barking brightly, wiggling underneath him. _'Aahahahhahahahha! Thaddy! Big brother! Nohohhoo!'_

His older brother huffs softly, licking playfully at his belly, uninhibited by his attempts at escape. _'What, I'm only giving you a bath.'_

' _You are torturing me! Aahahahahhahahaha! Not the belly! Aahahahahhhaha!'_

' _No, this is torturing you.'_ Thaddeus nips at his belly, nibbling softly at the spots he knows to be particularly sensitive, and the puppy shrieks again, barking brightly. _'This is torture.'_

' _Aahahahahahhaha! No more! Ahahahahhahahaa! Tickles! Ahaahahahhahahaha!'_ The puppy bats at his snout lightly. _'Big brother! Ahahahahhaha! Please!'_

The older hound barks softly, rubbing his snout over the puppy's neck affectionately. _'Alright, because you asked so nicely.'_

The puppy licks his snout softly and turns back over, laying comfortably between his two paws, and the older hound returns to licking at the back of his neck. Someone knocks on the door, they both know who it is, the boy would have only stayed with Sabaoth for so long, before he sought to return to his puppy friend's side. "Papa?" The door opens slightly and a head of curls pokes in. "Qasp?" Eyes swivel around the room until they land on the two hounds laying together on the large dog bed. "Papa!"

The boy darts away from the door, letting it close behind him, and slides on his knees in front of the older hound. "You're in hound form, papa!"

The large hound barks gently, licking the boy on the nose playfully, Zophiel giggles and kisses the hound on the nose in turn. _'Hello, pup, how long have you been waiting out there?'_

"Only a couple minutes, papa, I promise." He giggles again when the hound licks his nose once more. _'Good boy.'_

The large hound barks at him, rubbing his cheek with his snout, nudging him over slightly. _'Get the blanket, we will all take a nap, it has been a tiring day for us all, and it is drawing to a close. We will all nap until the night guards arrive.'_ He turns to the puppy laying below him as the boy scurries to the desk to get the blanket out of the second drawer from the bottom. _'Are you staying tonight, Qasp?'_

The puppy barks, licking under his chin. _'Yes.'_

Zophiel returns a moment later, shaking the blanket out, he lays it down over the dog bed, and crawls under, sidling up against the massive hound in the middle. It sighs, leaning over to lick him on the forehead, and the puppy leans out to lick him on the cheek before both lay down comfortably. Zoph smiles, pressing his face into the large hounds furry side. "I love you guys."

They both bark in return.

' _I love you too, baby monkey.'_

' _I love you too, baby brother.'_


	80. Coming To Conclusion

"You know, he kind of reminds me of Sora, in a certain way." Fingers stroke through his hair gently, he likes it when someone strokes their fingers through his hair, it's comforting and relaxing, it makes the tension he holds fade away, almost as much as he likes it when someone scratches his back or the back of his neck, or massages his shoulders lightly, he likes to be relaxed, it makes him more pleasant, more fun to be around. "They have the same mannerisms in certain ways. I think he's just vying for attention. He doesn't seem like the bad sort."

"He reminds you of Sora?" He turns to look up at the older angel, fingers accommodating the repositioning, stroking through the hair on the back of his head. "But…He's so sweet….and _he's_ so _trying_! Sometimes I just want to _throttle_ him!"

"I can imagine." He presses a kiss to his forehead. "But he wasn't always that way." The elder leans further back into the pillows to gain a more comfortable position himself. "He was a Power Elect, you know, before he was a guard."

"No way."

He nods, Nisroc looks down at him again, scratching a finger behind his ear. No matter what form their in, any angel hound likes having their ears scratched, hound form or humanoid form, doesn't matter, they like it in both forms. "Yep, he didn't make the cut, obviously."

Thaddeus tilts his head slightly, and the Captain presses another kiss to his forehead. "Why?"

"His attitude. He carried himself on a trigger, the smallest thing would set him off, Sasha once spilled juice on him and he blew up. Attacked Hasmal and tried to attack the little ones." He shakes his head. "I don't even want to think about what would have happened if we hadn't come home when we had. I tried whipping him into shape my way and it didn't work. But Tus saw something." He scratches at his beard lightly. "Tus has always been really observant, seeing the things that others don't, he saw something in Sora. He walloped him good, when they first got together, after I said he could have him for his guards, they went to the Garden and didn't return for a good forty-five minutes, it got his attention though. Tus took it a bit too far, farther then I would have ever gone, but there was no taking it back after the deed was done."

The young Warden cringes, he can only imagine how that felt, he remembers getting on Titus's bad side as a fledgling. He was a kind angel, quiet, caring, but when you angered him. He could wallop you just as bad as Nisroc could. He'd never taken things too far with him, thankfully, he could only imagine how Sora felt after that experience, and it makes him cringe again. Tus never went too far but his throws were never softened.

"He sat down with him after that and they talked, now that he had the little guys attention and he knew what would happen if he backtalked him, at the moment anyway. Tus noticed his gaze travelling to the toy robot he had on a shelf behind him. Turns out, Sora didn't have that great of a fledglinghood, he grew up with a stern warrior who thought such things were frivolous and weakening to the fighter's spirit. He never got hugs or tickles, he was a bit touch starved there for a while, always looking for a way to get you to touch him; pat his cheek or ruffle his hair or tug him in close to your side."

"And, Tus noticed this right away?"

"He did." The Captain nods lightly. "He noticed right off the bat. Sora had never had any toys growing up, so he gets them now, he's like a fledgling still sometimes, he can be tough and strong when he needs to be, but when he doesn't, it's like he's back to being that poor neglected fledgling. Tus gave him the robot, and you should have seen it, from what I've heard, he was completely mystified by it, his very first toy. It's his favorite toy in his whole collection." He looks back down to the Warden. "Tus and him, made an arrangement, for every week he behaves himself, no accidents, he gets a new toy. If he has an accident or misbehaves, he gets his toys taken away for a day, only a day, that's all that's needed for him to learn his lesson. Tus is a softy when it comes to him though, he lets him keep one toy, but there's no playtime before bed, he gets to keep his dolphin too, he won't sleep without it, and Tus isn't cruel."

"If he gets a new toy at the end of every _week_ wouldn't his room be overflowing?"

"No, once a month Tus and he sit down and go through his toys, the ones he's not playing with very much he gives to the fledglings. They fill a good-sized box at the end of every month."

Thaddeus licks his lips lightly. "So, you think Zazriel could be the same way, then?"

He nods lightly. "I do, from how much he reminds me of Sora, it wouldn't hurt to do some digging."

…

It took him a day to calm down, under Nis's patented care, and he finds himself back in his office with his troublesome prisoner sitting before him. Tapping his fingers over the top of his desk, he studies the younger angel closely, Zazriel fidgets in his chair, scratching a finger over his knee lightly.

Thaddeus blinks, smiling suddenly. "I have a gift for you."

"A gift?" Zazriel blinks in surprise. "For _me_?"

"For you." The Warden nods, leaning over to pick up the gift, and leans forward to set the bag on his desk. He pushes it over slightly and gestures to it. "A gift for you."

Zazriel leans to side to stare at the older angel, blinking when he nods, gesturing to the bag again. Tentatively, he leans forward, snagging one of the bags handles, pulling it over to him. Pulling out the tissue paper, setting that aside, he reaches further into the bag, his fingers curling around something soft and fluffy, biting his lip, he pulls his hand upwards, pulling his hand and his gift out of the bag, he pushes the bag aside as he settles his gift in his lap.

A stuffed bear.

A big fluffy plushy brown bear with a blue ribbon tied around its neck.

"A stuffed bear?"

"Yep." He can hear the smile in the older angel's voice. "You like it?"

He smiles, squeezing the bears hand gently, pulling it in for a hug, he presses his face into it's soft fluffy head. "I love it!" He hugs it tight before looking back up to the Warden. "Thank you!"

Thaddeus smiles at him softly, nodding his head lightly. "You are most welcome."

Zazriel sits up slightly, but continues to hug the bear to his chest. "Why are you giving me a gift?" He tilts his head slightly. "I've been nothing but bad to you."

"Not bad, just troublesome." Thaddeus rubs a finger over his lower lip. "You remind me of someone." He leans forward on his elbows. "Would you like another one?"

The boy's eyes widen. "I can have another?"

The older angel nods. "Sure, you can have another." He holds up a finger. "In a week. _And,_ only if you're good."

Zazriel nods excitedly. "Can it be a dragon?"

"Sure, if you behave for the entire week, I'll get you a stuffed dragon." He nods. "I'll make you a deal, from here on, if you behave for an entire week, I'll get you a new stuffed animal."

The boy blinks. "And, if I'm bad?"

"Simple, I take your stuffed friends away."

"Even Blue?" He hugs his bear tighter.

Thaddeus smiles gently. "Is that what you named him?" He chuckles softly when the boy nods. "I like it. No, I won't take Blue, but everyone else will go."

The boy holds his bear out again to look down at it, smiling happily, no one had ever given him a gift before. He hugs his bear again and nods. "Deal."

"Very good!" He pushes his chair back, pushing himself to his feet. "Come on you, now that we have a deal in place, we can move onto other things."

Zazriel climbs to his feet, hugging his bear to his chest, watching him cross out from behind his desk. "Like what?"

The Warden bends slightly as he comes to stand next to him, sweeping him up into his arms, the older angel smiles to him in the same manner he's seen him smile to the others. "Now, we get to play." He carries him from his office, and turns up the stairs, this one doesn't go to the chamber, this one is different, he comes upstairs. "I haven't gotten to find all those giggle buttons, and I know they're there, it's time that I do."


	81. Just A Bit Of Cheering Up

He looks up at the knock on his door, marking the page in his book, he sets it aside on the bedside table beside him as he turns around in his bed, setting his bare feet on the smooth stone flooring under him, he rolled the rug up to sweep the floor and just hasn't gotten around to rolling it back out again.

"Come in," he calls out softly, humming to himself as the door handle turns, and the doors pushed up slowly. He smiles in greeting to his young Warden, standing there looking rather sheepish, smiling shyly in that way that tells him he wants something but doesn't give any indication of what that something might be. "Come in, Tadpole, you know you're welcome in my room anytime you want in."

The Warden steps in, kicking off his boots himself, he can see a newly swept floor when he sees one. "Hi, papa."

"Oh, you're calling me _'papa'_ ," he rubs his hands together playfully. "What ever it is you want must be good."

Thaddeus tugs at the hem of his tunic lightly. "I had a bad day."

"I see," he leans forward. "Do you want papa to make it better?"

He nods shyly. "Yes, please."

"Well," the older angel waves him forward. "Come closer, I can't reach you all the way over there."

Thaddeus shuffles closer, taking small baby steps, until he's close enough for the Power to snag him by the tunic and tug him closer, he yelps, stumbling forward as he's yanked closer, stumbling over his own two feet, the Power scoots to the side as he tumbles over onto the bed. "Turn around here, I need you in position, you have to work with me." He turns in time with the Warden, straddling the younger angel's waist, he smiles down at him, leaning over him, so they're eye to eye. "Where should papa start first, there's so many good giggle spots, what do you think, where should papa start first?"

The younger angel just giggles up at him, and he smiles at the sound of them, wiggling his fingers down at him playfully, it only makes him giggler harder. "How about this belly?" He tugs his tunic up slightly, revealing the tanned toned belly underneath, and wiggles his fingers above it playfully. "This belly always got you going." He reaches down for his thighs, pressing his fingers into the meaty skin, the younger angel shrieks lightly, his legs kicking slightly. "Or, I could play with these thighs, these always get you going." Thaddeus giggles frantically, staring up at him with wide anticipatory eyes, waiting for the attack, Nis is just teasing him now, this isn't the attack, this is just the beginning. "I could poke around those armpits a bit."

"Papa!" He manages between his giggles. "Stop teasing!"

"You never let me have any fun." He digs his fingers into the Warden's thighs, and he shrieks, arching his back as he kicks his legs. "I'll just have to get my enjoyment out of torturing you then."


	82. Silencing The Mole

Those closest to the stairs stopped and stared as the figure slowly limped up the stairwell, using the wall beside them as a support, barely putting any weight on their left foot, they moved limply and stiffly, one bloodied hand curled around his mouth. They stopped and stared as he made his forward, dragging his left foot slightly, he stumbled towards one soul, one person, they only wanted one person.

"Nisroc!" Their Captain looks up at the sound of his name, looking up to meet his brother's eyes, Abraxos points at something over his shoulder, and he turns, his eyes widening at the sight that awaits him. Running forward, he catches the angel before his legs finally give out, tumbling over midstep, tumbling forward into his arms. "Sablo!"

The youngest Power uncurls his hand from around his mouth and latches onto the Captain's sleeves, tugging desperately at his sleeves, he mumbles desperately. They can only stare, his talking is cut off, impossible, his mouth is sewn shut.

"Sablo!" Hands curl around his cheeks as he hangs onto the oldest Power. He shakes his head and reaches into his tunic with a shaking hand, slowly pulling out a wrapped up scroll, holding it up to the Captain imploringly. "Abraxos, take the scroll." The other Power does just in time for the youth's legs to give out, and their Captain scoops him up, swinging him up into his arms.

"Nisroc, this is unbelievable, it's a complete outline of their frontline, _and_ plans for a siege."

"That's great, have someone get it to Michael," he turns, jogging passed the stunned Power. "I'm going upstairs."

Abraxos nods, handing it off to one next to him, and turns to run after him.

Nisroc takes the stairs two at a time, careful not to jostle his passenger too much, but it can't be helped. "Puri! Puri, I need you!" He jumps up the final two stairs and jogs through the Lounge, calling out to their medic, grimacing at Sablo's small muffled cries. "Puri! Puri, come on! I need you!" The medic pokes his head out of his room with wide eyes. "Wha—Sablo?" Darting from the doorway, he meets him in the middle of the hall, turning their Baby Power's face towards him, frowning deeply. "What happened!"

"Is that really important right now?" His Captain barks deeply. "Does he _look_ like he can answer?"

"Right, right, not the time." He pushes Nisroc down the hall slightly. "Go, take him to your room, the familiar environment will make him feel safest." His Captain nods, continuing his way down the hall quickly, kicking his door open, he leaves with the knowledge that the medic will gather what he needs and join them.

Haniel and Titus appear first, hovering in the doorway, having heard their Captain's shouts as he entered, and they step into the room silently, coming to stand on the other side of the bed as their Captain lowers their youngest down onto it.

"His neck," Titus points out, his neckline is covered in blood, some dark, dried, and some amber, still soaking into his collar. The runes were carved deeply, they glistened with blood and grace. Nisros pulls the younger angel's collar down gently and frowns. "Now we know where this kind of entrapment is coming from."

"Haniel, I need two basins of warm water." Their medic enters a moment later, carrying with him a tray of supplies, with Abraxos at his side, carrying an arm full of rags and towels. The younger Power nods, darting from the room with his mission set for him.

Puriel stands at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips, and stares. "I don't know where to start."

Nisroc looks up at him, clutching at his hand tightly, nodding to him encouragingly. "Well, the way I see it, you could either start from head to toe, or toe to head, but you'll have to start somewhere."

Their medic nods lightly, setting his tray down on the end of the bed, he'll start with the foot. Haniel makes his reappearance, with Hasmal at his side, both carrying two large basins of warm water, just as he had requested. "I'll start with his left foot, it's twisted awkwardly, we'll start here."

They all share a nod, two of them leaning in to undo his belt when the medic gestures to his trousers, and they help him shimmy out of them. The bone of his left leg is sticking out of the skin, and they all grimace, it must have taken some blow to cause that much damage. "Hold him down, I have to set the bone."

Nisroc nods, using his free hand to hold down the Baby Power's right shoulder, Titus takes up a spot at his left, holding him down in turn, and they both nod to the medic when he turns to look at them, inquiring on if they were ready or not. He grips just above the broken bone, and just below, and yanks them apart, setting the bone back together. Sablo screams behind his sealed lips, struggling against the one's holding him down. He sets the bone and splints his leg, careful not to bandage it until they could wash it up. Hasmal swaps places with him, sponge in hand, pulling one of the basins over to him, sitting on the edge, preparing to clean him up from the feet up. Haniel follows on his other side.

They sit him up to pull his tunic off when the medic motions for them to do so, Sablo whines, looking over to their Captain, and Nisroc coos down at him, pressing the back of his hand to his lips. "It's alright, papa's here, just a little bit longer."

Titus stares at his neck. "Puri, the runes."

"Right, right." The medic pushes him down slightly to get a closer look. "They're fresh, recently drawn."

"You need to break them."

Puriel shakes his head, pushing the youngest Power's head to the side slightly to get a better look, reaching for a cloth to clear a spot up. "They're already broken."

"What?" The guards captain leans forward, and the medic points to the line, breaking the runes magic. "How are they already broken?"

The older Power looks down at him a moment. "How do you think he got here?"

Titus looks down at their Baby Power, he can't imagine having to carve them himself, let alone in order for him to escape.

"Tus, will you clean up his neck?" He nods, reaching for a sponge, pulling the second basin of water to him, Haniel and Hasmal work their way up quickly, rubbing over his belly. With those being handled, he turns his attention to the lips, frowning as he leans forward to examine them. Crudely done, there's quite a bit of tearing, he nods firmly, he can fix this.

He turns first to his Captain. "Nis, distract him, I'm going to snip the stitches and it's going to get very uncomfortable."

Nisroc nods, squeezing the hand he holds in his, drawing the youth's attention to him, and begins a long tale in what he had missed while he was gone. Sablo stares at him, hanging onto every word, only flinching softly when the medic begins the task of snipping the stitches. There's a slight tugging sensation but its nothing too disturbing. Once they're all snipped up, he pulls the thread free, dabbing at the bleeding holes with a damp cloth. He applies some disinfectant and antibacterial paste to finish it up, just as the other finish sponging him clean, and he brings it to an end by wrapping bandages around his neck and left leg, to keep the wounds from becoming irritated through everyday life.

"You're never going back," their Captain kisses the Baby Power's knuckles. "You hear me, never, and I'll fight anyone who says differently."

Sablo nods, reaching for the oldest Power. "Hold me."

Nisroc nods, sliding into the bed beside him, pulling him up under his arm, he presses him against his side. "There you go, papa's got you, you're alright."

Puriel and Haniel clean up the mess around them, Abraxos disappears with one basin and returns for the other, Hasmal disappears with his worn soiled clothes, probably to burn them, and Titus brushes his curls back gently. "I'll go get supper started. We're having soup." He smiles to the Baby Power. "It'll be easier on those lips."

Sablo smiles up at him, slightly, the pull irritates the wounds. "Thank, Tus."

He brushes his curls back again. "No problem, Baby Power." He leans over, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "Welcome home."

When they're alone, he looks up to his Captain, pressing his cheek to his chest lightly. "I was so scared, papa."

"I bet you were." He presses his lips to the side of his forehead. "But you're home, with me, and I'll be damned if I let anything happen to you again."

Sablo smiles up at him, rubbing his cheek against his chest softly. "Papa bear."

"Darn right I am." He presses another kiss to his forehead. "I'm your papa bear, and you, you're my baby bear."


	83. It's Not The Same

"At least I'm getting out of here."

That's it. That's what breaks the dam. It's the straw that breaks the camels back. White noise fills his ears and his throat closes up as tears burn his eyes. He can vaguely hear his puppy guard's enraged barking over his own hysteria, and he stumbles around, crashing into one of the cell doors as he turns. He runs down the hall, he doesn't even know if Qasp is following, and he doesn't care, even though he knows he's supposed to, but he doesn't care, he just wants papa.

Michael still hasn't come, he still hasn't lifted a sentence, he hadn't known that one little act would have been granted him a life sentence, he's too young to be stuck here for life.

He stumbles forward, tears clouding his vision, falling into the office door, he pushes it open with a loud bang and stumbles into the office. He sees two figures, one closer and the other a bit farther, the one he wants isn't that close, he's standing behind the desk.

"Papa!" He wails, throwing himself forward, he throws himself around the desk until he's colliding with the one person he wants the most in the whole wide world. "Papa!"

"Zoph, what's wrong?" Thaddeus stumbles back as he catches the boy, having thrown himself at him, his momentum sends him back a step. "Hey," he rubs a hand down the back of his head, threading his fingers through his curls, Zophiel likes it when people do that, he's like him in that way, he likes it when people play with his hair. "What happened?"

"I—I—I was exploring!" He inhales between his sobs. "And—And—And I ran into Theo!" The Warden nods, urging him to continue. "We—We got into an argument and—and—and he said I was never getting out!"

"But, Zophi, you go out all the time with papi."

"Yea, Zoph," the Power in question leans over the desk to ruffle the boy's curls. "We went out yesterday, remember?"

"But—But it's not the same!" He wails into the older angel's chest. "I—I—I can't out without papi!"

"I know you can't," he pets his curls soothingly. "I know. Sshhhh, sshhh, it's alright." Thaddeus sits in his chair, pulling the small angel down with him, they've been through this enough times, he knows how to handle his way around this sort of thing. He can't blame him for having these episodes, if he were his age and had the knowledge that he'd been given a life sentence, he'd have a few breakdowns too. Zophiel lets himself be pulled down, straddling his lap, he leans back as the Warden leans over, reaching into the bottom right drawer, he pulls out a stuffed bear, he's the one that the boy always comes to when he has these breakdowns, so Thaddeus is always prepared. "Here, Zophi, give Oscar a big hug."

Zophiel takes the bear, hugging it close, he buries his face into the fluffy head. Fingers continue stroking through his curls. He rests against the Warden's shoulder, his sobs coming to a standing silence, his nose wheezing softly as he breaths, hugging his bear under his chin, he turns to hide his face in the side of the older angel's neck.

Nisroc frowns in concern as he watches his Warden put the boy to sleep, his cries and sobs silenced, wheezing softly as he slept against the Warden's chest. "Does this happen often?"

Thaddeus nods, rubbing at the poor boy's back soothingly, listening to him wheeze softly against his neck, under his ear, he rubs at his back and scratches at the back of his neck. "More than you'd think. At least once a week. I come to work prepared now. It's easier to just put him to sleep."

The Captain nods, he understands that, he'd do the same in that situation. "I thought our time out would have helped."

"And, they do, he loves going out with his papi." Nisroc glares at him playfully, there's no heat in it, he knows his old guardian secretly likes being called _'papi'_. "But, he's right, it's not the same. He can't leave without you as an escort."

Nisroc nods, he understands that as well, it truly wasn't the same. "I would try to talk sense into Michael, but he has none, and I do not have the patients to try and give him some."

"No, no," he shakes his head, patting Zophiel's back lightly, the boy hiccups softly and nuzzles closer. "You taking him out is more than enough." He smiles slightly, turning to press a kiss to the side of the boy's head. "He loves his papi very much."

The Power shakes his head fondly, smiling at the back of the boy's head, leaning over on his right arm. "Papi loves him very much as well."

"You big softie."

"If you weren't holding my grandson, and if he wasn't asleep, I'd show you just how soft I've become."

Thaddeus makes a face, lifting the boy from his chest lightly, Zophiel murmurs and cuddles into his bear adorably. "Want to hold your grandson, I must warn you, he's a big cuddler."

"I handled _you_ , I think I can handle him." He stands, reaching for the boy, Zophiel stirs as he's moved, and he coos to the boy softly until he settles down again. He makes a sound of surprise when the boy curls around him tightly, and falls back into his seat, curling his arms around him tightly. "He's a strong one."

"I told you."


	84. Just Some Fluffy Times

"Oel, you can't stay mad at me forever." Was what the Warden said as soon as the youth entered his office and sat in the farthest corner he could find, huffing like any teenager would when they perceived a wrong doing, and turning to face away from him. "I feed you."

It had been an honest mistake, sure, he had been quick to place blame, but the boy's history of having sticky fingers does him no favors. But, boy, could that kid hold a grudge. A pair of keys had come up missing, and of course, with his history of taking his things, his first suspect had been Jahoel. The boy had vehemently denied his guilt, but still he had expressed his disappointment in him.

As it turned out, Qaspiel had taken the keys, he'd left his own back in his room at the Pavilion and had taken the keys off his desk that morning before he came up to wake up Zoph.

He'd tried to apologize to the boy in question, but Jahoel had wanted nothing to do with him, blowing him off with a shoulder check as he left to bother Sabaoth for the afternoon.

It's been three days since then.

"Yes, I can." The first thing he's said to him in the last three days, it was small progress, but it was progress none the less. "Just watch me."

"Alright, that's it." He sets his pen down, pushing the stack of files away from him, and pushes his chair back to climb to his feet. Stepping out from behind his desk, he crosses his office to stand at the boy's back, reaching out, he pulls him to his feet, spinning him around. "Let's have a talk."

"I have nothing to say— _Hey!"_ Jahoel yelps as he's swept up off his feet, tossed over the Warden's shoulder, and carried him from the office. He pounds his fists against the older angel's back. "Let me go! Put me down!"

"Oh, I'll put you down when we reach our destination."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you!"

"Too bad," he pats him on the bottom as he reaches out to open the door to his room. "We're going to the big bed."

The big bed, otherwise known at _his_ bed, was where all the fun stuff happened, the giggle games, the torture, the compromising. It all took place on the big bed.

Thaddeus kicks the door shut softly with the heel of his boot, and crosses over to stand at the side of his bed, leaning over to toss him back from over his shoulder. Jahoel yelps as he flips over, waving his arms lightly, the Warden is just so tall, it's like he's freefalling. He turns away from him as the older angel bends over to untie his boots, the Prison can run itself for a certain amount of time without his presence being needed, and they could use that time to fix this rift between them.

"I said I was sorry, Jahoel." He climbs up next to the young angel and turns him around by the shoulder, climbing up to sit around his waist. "I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

"You said you were disappointed in me, that you were mad at me, and I didn't even do anything wrong." His arms are crossed stubbornly even in his laying position. "I hate you."

"You do not." He prepares his canvas, he's going to make himself a happy boy, and he knows just the way to do it. "You love me, with all your little heart."

"Not anymore."

"Even still, you adore me." He pokes a finger into his lower belly and Jahoel bites his lip to keep from giggling. "You _love_ me." He pokes around his belly button. "Tell me that you love me." The boy shakes his head stubbornly. "Come on, say it, say that you love me, or I'm pushing my favorite giggle button." Jahoel bites his lip again, shaking his head once more, staring up at him stubbornly. "Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."

He dips his finger into the boy's belly button, and just as he had expected, the boy shrieks as he arches his back. "Now, are you going to tell me you love me?"

Jahoel shrieks with laughter, and shakes his head frantically, he sighs deeply. "Oel, I've said it a thousand times, I'm _sorry_ , I shouldn't have been so quick to assume it was you, I'm not perfect, I made a mistake." He leans over him, pressing their foreheads together lightly, looking him in the eyes. "Can you ever forgive me?"

The boy curls his fingers around his hand, pulling his finger out of his belly button, and breaks into a large smile. "I wasn't mad anymore, I just wanted to see how far I could guilt trip you."

His eyes widen. "You just wanted to see—"

"I played you so hard, I got to have extra dessert and got to stay up late, it was fun while it lasted."

Thaddeus stares at him in shock. "You played me?"

"Like a fiddle."

"You little stink." He braces his fingers in preparation of an attack. "Now, I'm going to _play_ you."

Jahoel giggles softly as he licks the Warden's nose. "Do your worst."

…

He hugs his bear to his chest as he reaches a hand out between the cell bars, waiting for a guard to spot it and come see what the problem was, he doesn't have to wait long, a guard spots his hand and wanders over, leaning over slightly to look at him between the bars.

"What's wrong?"

He blinks up at the guard, hugging his bear closer. "I want Thaddy."

The guard nods, reaching for the keys on his belt, he slides it into the lock and turns, pulling the gate open. "Come on."

He steps out, feeling the guards hand ghost lightly over his left elbow, as he leads him down the hall towards the stairs that lead up to the Warden's quarters. His guard escort nods to the guard posted at the bottom of the stairs, and they allow the young prisoner to pass.

Clutching his bear tightly, he takes the first step, then the second, and before he knows it, he's half way there. Stopping before the door, he reaches out, turning the handle, he steps in, closing the door behind him. He knows the layout, papa's room is the first one on the left, and he reaches up for the door handle.

Turning it, he pushes it open slightly, and peeks inside.

Papa is reading a book in bed, looking up when the door creaks lightly, and smiles to him in greeting. "Hello, Zaz, what are you doing up here?"

Zazriel ducks into his bears head lightly. "I had a bad dream."

"Aw, you did?" He sets his book down over his lap. "Did you want to sleep with papa?"

He nods lightly, clutching Blue close. "Yes, please."

"Alright," he lifts the edge of his blanket up slightly. "Climb on in."

Scurrying over, Zazriel climbs down under the blankets, sidling up close to the older angel, hiding in his side. A large hand pats the back of his head lightly, tugging gently at his curls, and the Warden chuckles softly. "Hey, come on up, it's okay."

He peeks out from under the covers. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

He pokes out of the blankets a bit more, leaning heavily against the Warden's side, and hugs Blue up under his chin. "Papa, promise to never leave me?"

"Never. You're one of my babies. You're stuck with me."

…

"There's my little mouse!" The fledgling shrieks excitedly as he's swung up off his feet, curling his arm around the older angel's shoulders as he's settled to rest on his hip, large fingers tug lightly at his blue velvet vest. "Looking pretty snappy with that little vest there." He tugs at the end of his own green vest. "We match, sort of."

The small five-year-old giggles, pressing his fingers to his lips, smiling brightly in the way that happy children do. "Wanna be like you, papa!"

He chuckles, patting him on the bottom lightly. "Well, you most certainly dressed for the part," he pokes him in the side playfully just to make him squeak softly. "Are you going to help papa today?"

Bright blue eyes stare up at him. "Can I, papa?"

"Of course, you can," and he giggles again when he pokes him on the nose softly. "We have some intakes to show around, some paperwork," the boy makes a face, "I know, that's real fun, then we'll have some lunch, and then it's nap time for my little mouse, but I'm free after that."

"We can play together, papa?"

Thaddues pulls the fledgling around, holding him up above his head, smiling up at him playfully, taking in his exuberant giggles as they exploded from him like a volcano below. "Of course, we'll play together. Papa loves playing." He kisses him on the nose. "Especially with little mice."

Benjamin smiles brightly, leaning forward to kiss him on the nose. "I like playing with you too, papa."

"Good," he drops him back down to his hip and turns, snagging up the three files with his free had, before turning them towards the open door. "Because, I would have been sad if you didn't."

Yehudiah smiles at him in greeting, having followed his charge to his room, and together they all make their way downstairs. He nods to the guards posted at the bottom of the stairs, two of his boys are still sleeping, and he trusts them to make sure nothing gets up there without his permission.

Reaching for the keys on his belt, he unlocks his office door, and enters in. Dropping the three files on his desk, he stands next to it, nodding to the guard waiting in the door way to signify that he was ready for the new intakes to be brought from their holding cell to him so they could be placed.

The guard at his side steps closer. "Thaddy, I can take him if you want, we'll just follow behind."

The Warden shakes his head, bouncing the boy slightly on his arm. "It's fine, I got him, he's a light weight."

The guards march the three new intakes in, and he feels little Ben's curls rub against the side of his neck as he lays his head down to rest on his shoulder.

He raises an eyebrow at the one. "Why's this one wearing a muzzle?"

"She bit the guard who brought her in."

"I see," he nods in understanding, turning back to the girl in question. "Do you know what soap tastes like?"

The small prisoner shakes her head.

"Do you want to find out?"

She shakes her head again.

"Then I suggest you refrain from biting any more of my guard." He rests his cheek on Ben's head. "Because, if you don't, and I find out you bit another one of my guards, and I _will_ find out, I'll make you sit in one of these chairs with a bar of soap in your mouth for an _hour_." His eyes gaze into hers, trying to portray how serious he was being as he said his warning and promise. "Do you understand?"

She nods quickly, and he nods to the guard behind her, humming as he slowly undid the locking mechanism on the muzzle and pulled it free.

"I know exactly where I'm putting you, your neighbor can tell you all about how a bar of soap tastes, let this warning be a lasting one."

He nods to the man beside her. "You, what are you here for?"

He glowers slightly, and Thaddeus knows right then and there that this one is going to be trouble, not to fear, he has his papa on speed dial, he'll set anyone straight, no matter of age. "Shouldn't you alright know?"

"Oh, I _do_ already know, but your crime is so utterly ridiculous that I want to hear you say it."

The man glowers again, clutching his fists at his sides. "I stole from The Armory."

"How did you get into _The_ Armory?"

"I took a vile of blood from a warrior in the Infirmary."

The fledgling scrunches his nose up. "Papa, that's yucky."

The Warden raises his chin in challenge when the man first glares at his fledgling, humming when his gaze turns downwards, and nods along to his small mouse's statement. "It _is_ yucky, Ben."

He turns his attention to the final prisoner, younger then the first two, but still older then the minors. "You look absolutely terrified." They nod slightly. "Well, don't be scared, everything will be okay. I'll take good care of you."

…

"Thaddy! It's not what it looks like!" He tries to plead his case as he's escorted down the hall by the ear, but his pleas are falling on deaf ears, he had been forewarned after all, he was supposed to stop that behavior, it wasn't going to be tolerated. "Really! It's not!"

Those fingers around his ear tug lightly. "Hush, Rizoel."

His mouth closes with a soft clap. They climb the stairs to the upstairs together, silently, neither one saying a word. Thaddy opens the door to his room and guides him in by the ear, pulling the door closed behind him, he guides them over to the vanity to the right and takes up the thick wooden brush in his free hand, Rizoel watches him do so with wide eyes, he'd just assumed he'd use his hand.

"Rizoel," he cringes at the stern tone, Thaddy is really upset at him, he hadn't even called him by his fond nickname. "What did I say would happen if you got back into that whole espionage business?"

He almost doesn't want to answer, but he's expected to, and he doesn't want to make it worse for himself. "That you'd take me over your knee."

"Do you know how lucky you are that it was Nisroc who caught you, and not Michael?"

The boy nods, he knew of Zoph's predicament, they all did.

They come to stand before the edge of the bed, and the Warden lets his ear go as he sits over the edge of the bed, gesturing towards his waist. "Bare yourself."

He gulps, but complies, unbuckling his belt and shimmying his trousers down just the right amount to where his rear is exposed, but not all of him. Thaddeus helps guide him down, the hairbrush sitting to his left, and he soon finds himself turned over, staring at the floor as he prepares himself for what's about to happen. He hadn't stopped to think about the consequences of sneaking into Michael's office and picking the lock on the safe, he truly was lucky it was the Power who found him, Zoph was a large controversy for them right now, there were some who were standing by him and denouncing his sentence. The Healer was a big advocate for his release. He knew of the long-term effects his sentence could have. Those with life sentences are extremely rare. Zoph is the only one at the moment.

He inhales when the back of the brush presses to his left cheek and then pulls away, waiting a tense moment, he yells when it comes back down sharply, kicking his legs out and pushing himself up with his hands, he almost slides off the Warden's lap, until he lands a particularly harsh blow to his right thigh. "Get back down."

Rizoel falls forward, letting his arms dangle over the floor, he cries out with every smack as a steady beat is taken up, left, right, left, right, thighs, peppering down everywhere. When the burn starts to really set in, he starts to squirm, tears burning his eyes before they stream down his face. He's sobbing by two minutes, his bottom is pure lava, and he blubbers out apology after apology, but they fall on deaf ears, as Thaddy continues to rain his fury down on his reddened burning behind.

He's so caught up in his reprimanding that he doesn't see the two hands fly back until he hears the cry of pain when the brush smacks down against his fingers harshly, he blinks in surprise, as gut wrenching sobs fill the room around them, and Rizoel goes tumbling off his lap, as he shakes his burning hands, the backs of his fingers already reddening from the blow they'd taken.

"Rizo!" He lets the brush slide from his hand, cursing himself for not paying better attention, it's not unusual for hands to come flying back during those sorts of meetings. "Let me see, let me see." He takes his hands gingerly, blowing over the red skin lightly, and Rizoel chokes on a sob, squeaking about his hands between each one. "Let me get some ice." He helps the youth stand with him, reaching down, he pulls his trousers back up over his rear, buttoning them in place, he pulls the belt free, setting it on his desk as he crosses to the ice box. A small bag of ice in hand, he guides the younger angel over to his bed, this is his favorite part of the whole experience.

They lay together on his bed, him back against the pillows, and Rizo between his legs on his belly, his hands resting limply over his lower chest, his chin pressing to his belly, he blows on his fingers again before setting the ice down over them. It'll keep the swelling down if it sits there for a few minutes. Rizoel's sobs fade out into soft hiccups as the ice slowly numbs the ache in his fingers, and he turns his head, resting his ear against his belly, wheezing softly through his nose as he hiccups. The feeling of fingers stroking through his hair helps to settle him down, and the ice over his fingers fights off the burn rather well, and he hiccups softly as he licks his lips.

"I'm sorry, papa."

"I know you are, it's okay." The ice is lifted slightly for him to examine his fingers. "I'm sorry about your fingers."

"It's okay, papa."

"Good," he scratches a finger behind his ear. "You do that again and I'll strap you, understand?"

He nods weakly. "Yessir."

"Good boy."

…

"Papa?" He hums from over her head, and she resists the urge to turn to look up at him, not wanting to mess up his work. "How do you know how to do this?"

_This_ is braiding tiny flowers into her long dark hair, bright blue little flowers, they make her eyes pop. Thaddeus knows what he's doing, as his fingers skillfully weave the flowers in, careful not to tug too hard and hurt her. "I have long hair."

"You've braided flowers in your hair?"

"Yes," he reaches down, poking her in the side, she giggles slightly and leans away. "And, if you tell anyone, I'll destroy you, I have a reputation to uphold."

"That's silly, papa."

"You think that's silly," he ties off her long braid and nudges her shoulder slightly. "You should see papi with flowers in his hair."

Now that he's done, she does turn to gawk at him. " _Papi_ , too?"

"M'hmm."

She giggles at the thought of it. "Papa, can I braid the rest of the flowers into your hair?"

He squeezes her shoulders as he stands from the edge of his bed, in order to swap places with her, and she smiles as they do. "Sure, princess."

…

He tries to ignore the eyes that stare at him, for certain intervals, before they turn back to the book in the boy's lap. The soft sounds of a pencil scratching over fills the room, intermingling with the intermittent scratching of his pen over parchment, the focus is palpable.

"Done!" Is the happy exclamation that breaks the silence and he sets his paperwork to look up at the young artist. "Well, let's see it then."

The boy passes his journal over, and he takes it gingerly, he's always been quite the artist, but his skill has most certainly improved with time. "Sasha, this is amazing."

"Thanks, daddy."

He narrows his eyes as he looks in closer. "Is that….Is that _gray_ hair?"

"You do have some gray hair."

"I do _not_."

Sasha smiles slyly and stands from his chair, crossing around the desk, he tugs the chair around. "Right here." He swipes his fingers over his head. "It's intermixed."

"It's is _not_."

The youngling giggles lightly. "Yes, it is."

Thaddeus tosses his journal aside lightly, and turns, pulling him down into his lap. "Any gray hair I have is because of my kids."

Sasha giggles again. "Including me?"

"Including you, for sure."


	85. Down To The Second

It took him nearly a week to wake up, under constant supervision, it was only in his favor that his wish of being there when he did finally awaken was granted in that it was his turn to sit with him when he finally moved. It was just a slight twitch of his fingers, curling into the blanket slightly, but it was movement, more than they had seen in seven days and six nights, he'd take anything.

Oren scoots forward, sitting on the edge of his chair, reaching out to envelope the smaller hand in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze, he looks up to their other sentry, and Ephraim nods, standing from his seat to go for the Healer, Raphael had said for him to be notified when there was any sign of life, of him returning to consciousness.

"Zavey, Zavey it's Ori, I'm here." He presses his lips to his younger brother's knuckles. "I'm right here, baby brother. Come back to me, please come back, I need you. I need you to wake up, please Zavey, please wake up."

He looks up at the sound of their approach, their archangel and his brothers, and the Healer gestures for him to continue, Zaveriel had always been closest to his Captain.

"Please, open your eyes, Zavey." He kisses his knuckles again. "Open those beautiful silver eyes. Let us see them, let me see them, please, please open your eyes." He smiles when those eyes flutter behind closed eyelids. "That's it, you can do it, open those beautiful eyes for us, let us see them, come on Zavey, I know you can do it." His eyes flutter slightly, until they flutter open, wide and alarmed, looking between the familiar faces, and he chokes on a cry, at the end there, he wasn't sure if he'd ever get to see those eyes again with life in them.

Zaveriel had lost a _lot_ of blood.

His gaze travels around them and stops on the last, the one holding his hand, and he stares, his fingers curling weakly, as though to grip his hand.

Oren smiles, a watery smile, as tears gather in his eyes, pressing his lips back to those pale knuckles. "Welcome back, hummingbird, we've missed you."

Raphael crosses around to his other side, directing his attention from the Captain to the Archangel, his eyes flitting from one to the other, and the Healer smiles down at him, checking the IV bag first before checking in on him. "Hello, my little one, I'm happy to have you back with us." He feels first for his pulse and nods when he feels it, still slightly weaker then he'd like it to be, but its steadily rising. Zaveriel stares at him with wide eyes, watching him work, as he checks the bandage around his wrist, to make sure the bleeding had stopped.

"He's awake, but he's going to be pretty out of it for a while to come, his mind should start to clear as his blood replenishes. The potion in the IV is working rather well, it shouldn't be too long before he can talk again," he speaks for the benefit of the others. "He's still in slight shock, that's why his eyes are so wide, I have no doubts he'll return to sleep in a few minutes." He smiles down at the young angel again, rubbing his pale cheek with his index finger. "We'll continue to monitor him, the progress from here should run smoother and quicker, take your shifts with him as usual, I'll continue to have others cover your duties for you."

True to his word, by the time he leaves them to return to what he had been doing previously, Zaverial has fallen asleep again, this time they know he's with them though, his weak grip on their Captain's hand maintains itself even in his slumber.

They take another three days for him to start really moving, his fingers squeeze his with more strength, and then he says his first word.

"…Ori….." He looks up at the call of his name, Zaves is staring at him, his eyes aren't nearly as wide as they were when he first woke up. "..Ori…"

"That's right, hummingbird." He kisses his knuckles again. "I'm here, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

"..Sorry…"

"No, no," he reaches out to brush those wild curls back. "Don't apologize. We'll get through this. I'll be with you, every step of the way, don't apologize."

"…Mad?.."

He shakes his head firmly, the Virtue wants it to be very clear, and he kisses those knuckles again. "No, no, I'm not mad. I promise. None of us are mad. We're so happy to have you back. We would never be mad. Never."

"..Hug?..."

"Of course," Oren scoots closer, leaning over the younger angel, and tenderly curls him up against his chest. "Of course, you can have a hug." Fingers curl lightly into his tunic, and it takes him a moment to register the wetness soaking into his tunic, it a moment longer to register that the baby Virtue is crying softly. "It's okay, Zavey, it'll be okay." He kisses the side of his head. "Everything will be okay." He holds him until he falls back to sleep, before laying him back down, and wiping away the tears as he leans in to press a kiss to his forehead. "It' going to be just fine."

Three more days and he's finally able to sit up, he's able to talk again, without interruption or pause, and that's when they have their first session with Ak. He sits at his bed side, in a chair, leaning forward on his elbows, watching and waiting for the young angel to put his feelings into words, there's never any rush, he knows it's no easy task.

Oren sits with him in his bed, he leans back up against the pillows, and _he_ leans back against the older Virtue's chest, sitting between his legs. Large hands rest in his lap, Oren's arms are wrapped around him loosely, offering comfort during this session without interrupting verbally.

"I lost them." He finally finds his strength to say it. "I lost them, no matter what I did, I lost them."

The worst part of being a healer was losing a patient. Akriel nods sympathetically, and in understanding, he remembers losing his first patient, they all do.

"Bloodloss." Zaveriel continues on, curling his fingers between his older brothers, Oren twines his through his in return. "I didn't give them enough, it kept bleeding but I didn't see it, I wasn't enough."

"So, you thought by draining yourself, your own would be available the next time something like that happened?"

He nods. "I wanted to help. I didn't want it to happen again."

"Zaves," the mental specialist reaches out to curl his fingers around the younger angel's cheek comfortingly. "We've all lost people, it's one of the downfalls with our profession, we just learn from it and keep it from happening to another."

"That's what I was trying to do, Ak."

"I know," he rubs his thumb over his cheek lightly. "But we'd miss you terribly if you left us. We're all quite attached to you. When we lose someone, and it happens, we come _together_ , take comfort in each other. It's not something you have to deal with on your own." He smiles at him gently. "That's what family is for, and that's what we are, we're a family. We're here to hold you up until you're strong enough to hold yourself up." Akriel glances up at his Captain for a moment, Oren nods, and looks up to meet the gazes of the others. "I tell you what we're going to do now, we're going to push this bed and the next together, we're all going to lay here together, and we'll tell you stories, just taking comfort in being together, and you'll fall asleep surrounded by your big brothers, and when you wake up again, we'll still be with you, you're never alone, alright?"

Zaves nods lightly, sniffling, and the mental specialist leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

Ephraim and Constantine appear at the other side of the bed next to him, on the right, and push it over to rest against the side of his bed, Zed leans over the foot of the bed, holding a vial out to him, indicating with a slight nod for him to drink it, and he does, and instantly the edge falls away. He's relieved, calm, and he rests his head back against the crook of Oren's shoulder. Oren scoots them over, to the center of the two beds meeting together, and rests back against the pillows again, as the others slide in around them. Akriel slides in on his left, rubbing his hand over his lower arm gently, comfortingly, Zed slides in on Akriel's other side, reaching around him to caress his cheek lightly in solidarity. Ephraim appears at his right side, brushing his curls back gingerly, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of his head. And Constantine slides in next to the empath, reaching around him to scratch his cheek lightly with his index finger, smiling at him softly, he returns the smile sleepily.

He takes comfort in being surrounded by his family, his big brothers are a warm solid barrier against the outside world, and he curls his and Oren's arms around himself a bit more.

Akriel looks between them all. "Who's telling the first story?"

Oren's voice rumbles from under his head. "I will."


	86. First Day On The Job

He looks up as the door to his office opens, waiting to see who it was before calling out, and raises his eyebrows when his new secondary warden steps in, closing the office door behind him, standing from his chair when they finally look up and he sees the tears trailing down his cheeks.

"Saba, what's wrong?" Thaddeus steps out from behind his desk, crossing to his side quickly, pulling him forward by the arm. "What happened?"

"T—Thaddy, I don't w—want to be your s-second anymore!"

He pulls him into his office, seating him in one of the chairs before his desk, curling his fingers around his cheeks, rubbing away tears as they fell from his eyes. "Why not, you were so happy when I appointed you, what happened?"

Sabaoth rubs at his eyes, sniffing deeply, more tears falling down. "T—They're all s—so mean! I—I liked it b—better when I—I was just a g—guard!"

"Who's mean?" He tilts his head up, rubbing his cheeks with his thumbs again. "Tell me what happened, baby brother."

"M—Mendrion and R—Rogziel!" He stutters. "The one's T—Theo appointed!" He cries out. "T—They're so m—mean!"

"What happened, baby brother, tell me what happened so I can make it better."

"T—They said I was t—too soft! T—That Theo kn—knew better! T—That I don't d—deserve it!"

"Oh, Sabaoth, I'm so sorry." He kneels, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I knew there might be some strife about your appointment, especially by those he brought in, but I've been so busy I forgot to set them straight about his leaving and your appointment."

Sabaoth sniffled miserably. "I—I don't want t—to go b—back out there ag—again."

"Oh, no, you're done for the day." He kisses him on the forehead again. "Come on, you're going upstairs, away from all those jerks. You can take a nap or read a book or do some drawing, I don't care, but you can stay up there while I deal with your tormentors."

"O—Okay, Thaddy."

"Good angel." He stands, pulling the younger warden to his feet, guiding him across his office. He pulls the door open, and when he sees who stands just a pace away, he sends them a cold glare, and takes pleasure in the visible shiver that emanates from them.

_'Good.'_ He thinks to himself. _'Let them be afraid.'_ He guides the younger warden upstairs to his quarters. Sabaoth sniffles, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand, stepping into his room when the older Warden opens the door. "Here we are, safe and sound." He walks him over to sit on the edge of the bed, tilting his head back up, he rubs his cheeks clean. "You do whatever you want up here, just don't wreck the place, and I'll set them straight."

Sabaoth nods languidly. "Okay, Thaddy."

"Good boy." He leans in, kissing him on the forehead again. "I'll bring supper up later, alright?"

"Alright, Thaddy."

He leaves him there, free to do as he pleases in the safety of the Warden's room and closes the door behind him before he makes his way back down the stairs. Thaddeus is pleased that they're still there when he returns. He waves a finger at them threateningly. "I'd like to see you two in my office."

Both young guards nod lightly, stepping forward, crossing before him as they enter his office. He sighs, nodding slightly to himself, he hates having to be the bad guy, but he doesn't believe in firing his guards, especially the young ones, the ones that simply needed more guidance, and Titus had agreed to leave it up to him to deal with them, unless it was an extenuating circumstance.

This was not one of those circumstances, not in his opinion, so he'd deal with it in house instead of involving their captain.

Nodding again, he turns, stepping into his office. They jump when he pulls the door closed a bit harsher than usual, and he stands there behind them, watching their body language, Theo had even him fooled, they just needed redirection.

"So, you think I'm soft, huh?"

The one on the right tenses, but the one on the left nods firmly, turning to look at him. "You're too soft. You don't _punish_ them for their crimes."

"I don't _punish_ them?" He steps forward, crossing the office slowly to stand before the guard, he's much taller, the little guard has to tilt his head back to maintain his gaze. "I punish _everyone_ in _my_ Prison, I just don't do it publicly, typically, when my office door is closed, you can assume it's because I am punishing someone." He tilts his head downward, looming over the mislead guard. "I am not _abusive_. I do not _beat_ my prisoners. That does not make me _soft_ , it makes me _compassionate_ , it makes me _respected_. I can ask my prisoners to do anything, and they'd do it without complaint, because they _respect_ me." He steps forward, and because his stature is larger then the guard, it forces him to take a step back. "Like I said, I punish _everyone_ in _my_ Prison, my prisoners, and my _guards_."

Mendrion's eyes widen. "What?"

"I don't tolerate bullying in my Prison, between prisoners, guard and prisoner, or guard and guard." He leans forward, curling his hands over his hips. "And, since you spoke up, you volunteered to go first."

The young blond curly headed guard steps back again. " _What?"_

Mendrion was at a loss, they both were, their minds reeling. Theo never spoke about this part of the Warden when he complained about him, he never said anything like this, they didn't know any of this. "Come on, Mendrion, what's there to worry about, I'm _soft,_ remember?"

He watches Thaddeus step around him, heading for the closet behind his desk, pulling the door open slightly, he reaches in for something, and his mind whirls when he pulls out a thick leather belt. He waves him forward. "Come on, Mendrion, let me show you how _soft_ I am."

Mendrion feet move without his permission, carrying him around the Warden's desk, he didn't know this side of the man. He folds the belt over in his hand, gesturing to the wall beside him with it, and Mendrion follows his gesture with his eyes. "Why don't you bare yourself and brace yourself against the wall while I show you how _soft_ I am." He shakes his head silently and the Warden leans forward. Face to face. " _Do it."_

The young guard nods quickly, stepping to his side, pulling his trousers down slightly, he braces himself against the wall just as he was told.

Thaddeus points at the other one before his desk. "You move and I'll _hunt you down,_ Rogziel." Satisfied with the younger guards startled nod, he turns around to look at the one leaning against the wall, throwing his arm around quickly, the guard shrieks when the belt comes down on his bare bottom harshly, jumping forward, he throws his hands back. "Hands against the wall, Mendrion." He shakes his head frantically. _"Hands against the wall_." His hands fly forward, something in the back of his mind telling him he'd better do so and braces himself again. The belt thwaps over his bottom again, and he shrieks once more, bouncing on the balls of his feet as it comes down again and again, howling at every strike. "Does this seem _soft,_ Mendrion?" The aforementioned guard shrieks again, tears streaming down his face, seven harsh smacks later. "Is this too _soft_ for you?"

"Nohohohoho! Nohohohot sohohohoft! Nohohohot sohohohoft! OOWWWWWIIIEEEEE!"

"Do you know what happens when you bully someone in my Prison?"

"Yehehehehes! Nohohoho mohohohohore! I'm sohohohohorry!"

"Am I ever going to hear about you bullying someone else again?"

"Nohohohoho! Neehehehehehhever! Nehehehheehehehever ahahahahhaagain!"

"Good, because I don't like doing this, I don't like being the bad guy, I like having fun, I like the sounds of laughter, seeing a smile on others faces."

He gives on final harsh blow and pulls away, turning away from the sobbing guard, turning around to his desk. "Okay, pull your trousers up, Mendrion." The guard heaves a sob, pulling his trousers up, he turns around to look at him. Thaddeus turns back around, the belt resting on his desk, and looks down at him in his pitiful state. "Do you want me to comfort you, Mendrion?"

Mendrion nods slightly, rubbing at his bottom, breathing out another sob.

The Warden opens his arms for him. "C'mere, Mendi." The little guard steps forward, falling into his embrace, pressing his face to the older angel's chest, and he leans in closer when his arms wrap around him. He rubs his hand down the back of the chastised guards head. "This is why Theo calls me soft, because I'm a comforter, because I show affection, that doesn't make me soft, Mendi, that makes me compassionate, it makes me _kind_."


	87. Reacquainting Ourselves

Thaddeus turns away from them when he's finished with them, when he's sure they've been thoroughly comforted after being thoroughly reprimanded, dismissing them silently back to their posts, clearly under the impression that they were taking their leave.

He rubs at his bottom again and shakes his head when his friend shoots him a glance, he's not done here yet, but the other guard has nothing more to stay here for, and Mendrion nods as he takes his leave, closing the door behind him softly. He turns back to look at the Warden's back, watching him read over a page silently, not a sound is made, not even the rustling of parchment.

"Thaddy.." He blinks when the Warden jumps, spinning around, pressing a hand to his chest, and giggles softly at the expression of shock he wears. "Sorry."

"My God, Rogziel, give me a heart attack, why don't you!" Clearly, he had thought they both had left when the office door closed. He reaches back and sets the page back down to rest on his desk. "What can I do for you, Rogziel?"

He looks down to his feet for a moment before returning his gaze to meet the older angels. "Can you…Can you call me Rog…Like you used to?"

"Are you my Rog though?" Thaddeus tilts his head. "I remember my Rog very well, he was a snarky little thing, but he was never cruel, he was kind, he laughed often, he treated everyone with the same kindness he wanted to be treated with. He was someone who could be friends with just about everyone, not a bully, not someone who I would think would make another cry."

"I'm still your Rog, I promise!" He nods his head, taking a step forward, and then thinks twice on it, and takes a step back. "I just…..I forgot….I let myself be fooled…I let myself be deceived with pretty words…But, I'm still your Rog, I swear, I'm still me, I promise, I'm still yours!"

"My Rog would apologize when he hurt someone's feelings." Thaddeus stares at him critically. "Are you going to apologize to Sabaoth for hurting his feelings?"

"Yes!" He takes another chance, jumping forward a step, and this time he stays there, he doesn't back away a step like he did last time. "Yes, I'll apologize to him, I'm sorry Thaddy, I'm sorry I hurt his feelings. I promise I'm still your Rog, I promise, Thaddy!"

Thaddeus smiles at him, opening his arms for him, and Rogziel feels hope swell up inside of him. "C'mere, _my_ Rog." He smiles brightly, jumping forward, back into the Warden's arms. Thaddeus chuckles, curling him in tightly, pressing a kiss over his curls. "I missed you, Rog, look at how big you've gotten! When I last saw you, you barely came up to my chest, you were tiny!"

The guard giggles softly, tucking his head under the Warden's chin, pressing his ear to his chest. "I'm still small though."

"Yes, you most certainly are." He squeezes the little guard tightly for a moment, resting his chin over his curls, and sways them gently from side to side. "I can still bundle you up just like before." He presses a kiss to his head tenderly. "These curls are still just as wild, you could do with a haircut, I'll set aside some time for us later and I'll give you one."

Rogziel smiles slightly, pressing closer, tightening his hold around him, curling his fingers in the Warden's tunic. "I missed you, Thaddy. I became a guard so we could be together. But when I got here you were different."

"I know, Rog, I wasn't myself, but I am now, I'm back, and I'm not going anywhere ever again."

"I could kill her for what she did."

"You'll do no such thing, mister." He hugs him close, threading his fingers through the curls on the back of his head, scratching at his scalp lightly. "You'll stay here with me, so I can keep an eye on you, I'm not letting you go."

The guard smiles again, purring softly at the feeling of fingers scratching at the back of his head, and leans against the older angel a bit more. "Thaddy, can I stay with you tonight?"

Thaddeus chuckles softly. "Yes, you can stay with me." He squeezes him tenderly. "Come on, let's head upstairs, it's about time I fix up supper." Rogziel smiles, curling his arm around the Warden's right arm, letting him guide him forward, across the office, out the door, and up the stairs. Half way up the can smell the fragrance of something delicious, and it makes their mouths water, Thaddeus opens the door to his room and they step inside to see what awaits them.

Sabaoth looks up from stirring the contents of the cauldron, Sasha giggles and waves at him excitedly from the bed, jumping from the edge, he runs over to meet them, and the Warden sweeps him up onto his free arm. He wiggles the arm the younger guard is hanging from. "Don't you have something you need to say?"

Rogziel nods slightly, looking up to meet the eyes of the new warden, Thaddy's second in command. "I'm sorry, Sabaoth, I was….I allowed myself to be misguided…..I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

The oldest of the Prison guards stares at him critically, as though looking for deception, and smiles slightly when he spots none. "It's okay, I guess with all escaped ourselves to a certain degree." He gestures to the cauldron. "It was a chilly night, so I made chili."

Their Warden chuckles softly, bouncing the fledgling on his arm, and the fledgling giggles happily. "Very poetic, Saba."

"Thank you, I thought it was."

"I also see you've changed." Thaddeus steps into the room completely, kicking the door closed behind them, to keep the warmth in. "Comfortable?"

"Your clothes are always comfortable."

"I'm glad." He looks down to the younger guard attached to his arm. "You get yourself changed, you've worn my shirts before, you know where they are." Rogziel nods, parting from his side, to change into something to wear for the night.

Sabaoth serves up four bowls, setting them on the table, with spoons and napkins.

"Eat up."

He soon finds that he's extremely grateful that his bed is as big as it is, with two guard curled up against his sides and one fledgling sprawled out over his chest. He's not complaining, they're all warm, and he's content.


	88. The Necessary Introductions

"You should introduce yourself." He mumbles into the Warden's shoulder, his arms wrapped around him, fingers curled into the back of his tunic, he started all of his days off with a hug. Fingers scratch at the back of his head lightly as the sway softly from side to side. "I mean, _really_ introduce yourself."

"I've already introduced myself, Rog." His fingers stroke through the curls on the back of his head. "He knows me."

"He does _not_." Rogziel presses closer. "He only knows you when you're angry. He doesn't know how you _really_ are."

"What ever do you mean _'how I really am_ '?"

"You know," he nudges the Warden lightly. "Your tickle monster self. Mendi is _really_ ticklish. You'd love it."

"He is, is he?" Sue him, his interest is peaked. "Tell me about him."

The young guard curls around him even more. "If there was one person who had all the ticklishness in the world, it would be Mendi, you just have to poke him in the right spot, and he loses it."

"Really now?" Thaddeus rests his chin on the boy's curls. "Where would one have to poke him to get the best reaction?"

He smiles, ducking down, pressing his forehead against the Warden's shoulder. "Well, pretty much anywhere, but definitely in the belly. Or the armpits. The neck too."

"Oh, really?" He hums in thought. "Perhaps I will have to properly introduce myself, you're right, he doesn't know the real me."

"I'm telling you, Thaddy, Mendi isn't sure about you, he's confused, he doesn't know the real you and all the things Theo said about you left him conflicted. He should know the man he's working for."

"You know, you do have a point, he really should know the real me if he's going to be working under me."

"I'm tell you, Thaddy, he really should."

He nods lightly. "Perhaps he should know what the Chamber is used for as well."

"I agree, Thaddy, I think he should too."

The Warden chuckles softly, kissing him on the top of the head. "You sure do have some grand ideas."

…

He was surprised when the two Elders corned him, he didn't know how to react as the one yanked him forward by the wrist, knelt slightly, and tugged him up over their shoulder. He dangled there, hanging over their shoulder, as they carried him down the hall, the other Elder at his heel. He tried asking where they were going but they weren't in the mood to answering his questions, it appeared, they didn't answer, carrying him down the hall in silence.

Pushing himself up, he watched them carry him in the chamber, and his eyes widened, he'd heard about what happened in here. He didn't understand why he was being brought in here, he wasn't a prisoner, he was a guard, this was where prisoners were brought, left at the Warden's mercy, the door closed to all those on the outside.

Mendrion doesn't think to struggle as they tug his tunic up over his head, one of them forcing him down as the other straps his wrists in place, they fold his tunic up nicely and set it down on the wooden table at his feet, one turning to tug his boots off, fitting the two straps at the bottom of the table around his ankles.

"H—Hey, what are you doing?" He tugs at his binds, but they hold firm. "L—Let me go!"

They nod at each other silently, turning to make their leave, the one on the right pulling the door closed behind them as they exit.

He lays there in silence, listening to the crackling of the fire, and looks around the room. It's clean, not how he imagined it, a tapestry hangs on the wall behind the table at his feet, it's nothing like he thought it would be.

Mendrion looks over as the door opens, Thaddeus smiles at him as he steps in, his sleeves rolled up just under his elbows. "Well, hello, little guy." He crosses over to stand at his side. "You seem to have gotten yourself into quite the jam."

"W—Why am I trapped here?" The guard stares up at him with wide eyes. "Wh—What's going on? I'm not a pr—prisoner."

"Oh, you're a prisoner alright, just not one locked in a cell." He rubs a finger over his upper arm lightly. "There's some misconceptions you have about me that I feel need to be addressed."

"Wh—What?"

"I'm not a bad guy," he slowly traces his finger down his arm. "You know how strict I can be, but that's not who I am, I'm not a strict guy, I'm a nice guy. I like to laugh. I like to make other people laugh." Mendrion squirms slightly, as much as his binds will allow him to, biting his lips as the finger tracing down his arm gets closer and closer to his armpit. "I like making my prisoners laugh. I _love_ making my _guards_ laugh." His fingers pauses just above his armpit and he inhales deeply.

"I—I don't un—understand."

He smiles down at him. "I've heard that you happen to be quite ticklish."

"I—I…What?"

"I said," he dips his finger into his armpit and rests there. "I heard you happen to be quite ticklish."

"S—So?"

"So," the Warden leans over him lightly, smiling at him happily, and Mendrion feels a sense of lighthearted dread settle in the pits of his belly. "I happen to adore ticklish people." He wiggles his finger lightly and the guard squirms harder, biting his lip to keep a fit of giggles at bay. "Especially those who are _quite_ ticklish."

"I'm just a l—little ticklish, is all."

"Mhmm," He nods playfully. "That's not what I heard." He stands up, removing his finger from his armpit, and eyes him carefully. "I want to see just how ticklish you _really_ are, but where to start?" He looks up to meet his eyes again. "Top?" And then down to look at him feet. "Or bottom?"

"Umm…. Nowhere?"

"Hmmm," Thaddeus shakes his head lightly. "I don't think that was one of the options." He steps around towards his head, and he tilts his head back, not wanting to lose track of him, even if they were shut up together in the same room. "I think I'll start at the top, I have nothing to do this afternoon, and you're not going anywhere until I let you, so there's no rush."

"What are you—" "Like my feather?" He goes crossed eyed as a feather is held out in front of him. The Warden flicks the tip over the tip of his nose lightly. "I like my feather too." He lifts the feather up, twirling it between his fingers, then he lowers it again, Mendrion squeaks as the feather touches his neck, brushing around gently. "Makes it easy to reach all those not so easily reached spaces." He tries to scrunch his shoulder up, biting his lip harshly to keep himself calm, and twitches as the tip of the feather strokes up under his ear. "Awe, you're not making this fun, don't bite back those giggles, let me hear them." He shakes his head, biting his lip harder, and Thaddeus chuckles lightly. "Oh, I'll get those giggles. Some people can't stand the feather, other's need a bit more fine encouragement."

Mendrion watches him reach up, sticking the feather back into his bun, and crosses around to stand at his right side. "Let's see you withstand _this_."

His eyes widen at the implication of that statement. "Wait, wh—"

Thaddeus takes a deep breath and leans over, situating himself between his arm and neck, and blows a long raspberry over his neck. His eyes widen drastically, and he shrieks, squealing with laughter. The Warden chuckles against his neck. "Wow. That was not what I expected from such a quiet little guy." He buries himself back in. "Let's see if I can make that happen again." And he blows another raspberry into the side of his neck. Mendrion squeals brightly, turning his head away, trying to lean to the other side. "Oh, that's beautiful, Mendi, you've been holding out on me."

"Thahahahhahahaddeheheheheheus!"

"Call me _'Thaddy'_. There's no need to be so formal." He buries his face back into his neck. Mendrion falls tense, waiting for it to come, and he shivers slightly, squeaking when the Warden shakes his head, rubbing his beard in. "And, I'm going to call you Mendi, I've heard Rog call you that, Rog's one of mine, you know, I helped raise him. He's a big sucker for hugs. He'll tell me anything if I give him a great big long hug. He also likes cuddles. A giant cuddle bug, that one, but I like cuddles just as much, so I can't complain." He blows another raspberry and the guard squeals again, kicking his legs as best as he can, it caught him by surprise that time. "Your neck is might sensitive; you know, this is great."

Thaddeus pulls away from the side of his neck and smiles down at him, he returns the smile with a shy one of his own, this isn't what he'd thought to expect from the man, he knew he was different then Theo was, after he'd taken the belt to him, he knew he was different, but not this different. This is nothing like he expected. "See, I'm a nice guy." He crosses around to stand above his head once more. "I've also been told that I'm quite the tickle monster."

"You are?"

He nods lightly. "I am. I'm a big tickle monster. I love giving tickles, ask Saba, oh, he knows _really_ well. We grew up together, you know." He rubs at his beard gently. "Though, I've also been told I don't _take_ it well." Thaddeus shrugs lightly. "But, oh well, the only one who can stand a chance in getting me is Nis, and he's a very busy guy."

Mendrion smiles up at him, this is so much different then what he'd thought the legendary man would be like, he was nothing like Theo, _he_ was harsh and unforgiving, always snapping and yelling. Thaddeus was kind, he was always smiling, everyone seemed to like him, he was nice and never yelled, not even when he was angry at them for hurting Sabaoth's feelings, he was comforting, he'd held them after he reprimanded them, cleaning them up after their tears dried up, and he was forgiving, as soon as their punishment was through, the crime was no more, water under the bridge, no more. It was over and done with.

"I've been told these armpits are particularly bad." He raises his hands, holding his index fingers out, pointing them down into his armpits. "I've been told they're mighty ticklish."

"They're not!"

"I don't believe that," he chuckles softly. "Not from that quick denial."

The guard bites his lip for a moment, staring up at the Warden with wide eyes, his head tilted back to keep the contact from breaking. "Rog is a jerk."

"How do you know it was Rog who told me?"

He gives him a dull look and the Warden chuckles again. "It was Rog." He wiggles his fingers for a quick moment, and he shrieks softly, biting his lip again. "What have I said about biting back that laughter?" He flutters his fingers over his armpits and he shrieks again, explosive laughter erupting from him, he doesn't even have the opportunity to try and hold it back. "There we go, that's better, let it all out."

"Thahhahahahahhaaddyyy! Pleehehehehehheease! Ahahahahahahhahahhaha nohhohohohoho!"

"That's what I like to hear." He wiggles his index fingers into the hollows of his armpits, and he squeals again, twisting his hands around in their bindings, his fingers flexing slightly. "That's right, call me _'Thaddy',_ calling me _'Thaddeus'_ is much too formal for my taste."

"Eeieieiieieiaaiaiaahahahhahahahhhaha! Gehehehehhet thehehehehem ohohhohohout! Eieiiiaiaiaaiahahahahahaha ahahahhahahahahaha plehehehhehehahahhahahahahehehehhease!"

"Rog was right, these armpits are mighty ticklish, this is amazing." He flutters his fingers over his armpits again and Mendrion shrieks once more, shaking his head from side to side, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. "I love the quiet ones, the shy ones, and the mighty ticklish ones." He flutters all ten fingers over his left armpit and the guard shrieks with laughter, twisting his arm around, flapping his elbow, all in an attempt to break his bindings and pull his arm down, but his arm doesn't budge. "And, you, you're mighty ticklish."

"I knoooowwww! Aahahahahhahahahha ahahahahhahahahaha! Plehehehhehehease! Aahahahahhaha Thahahahahhhaaadddyyyy!"

"I could do this all evening, like I said, I have nothing to do." He leans against the head of the table and reaches back to get his other armpit too. "Just bask in your laughter, torturing these armpits until they can't take it anymore, I could, and no one would stop me."

Mendrion's eyes widen drastically and he shakes his head frantically. "Nohohohohoho ahahahhahahha nohohhohohohoho!"

"Oh, have you had enough?" He nods feverishly, and the Warden chuckles, wiggling a finger into his hollows for a moment more, he finally pulls away. "You know what we're going to do now?"

He shakes his head, watching the man's fingers as the pull the straps around his wrists free, and then smooth his curls back. "We're going to get a drink of water and go upstairs to take a nap."

"A—A nap?"

"Yep, a nap." Thaddeus crosses around to the end of the table, and he sits up, watching him unstrap his ankles. "Come on, hop down." He tugs on his ankles lightly and turns, scooping up his boots and tunic, and then turns towards the door, gesturing for him to follow. "We're going to cuddle up and take a nap."

"In _your_ bed?"

"Well, of course," he tucks his things under his right arm and pulls the door open, gesturing for him to follow again as he turns, stepping between two guards, and heads his way upstairs. Mendrion follows, looking at the pictures hanging over the stone walls, and looks up when they stop on the landing, turning to look at the thick wooden door as the Warden turns the handle and pushes it open.

His room is nothing like he imagined it. Its warm, full of warm colors, and clean. The bed is made up nicely, clothes put away in the wardrobe, the plants on the windowsill are vibrant and blooming, the desk is cleared of clutter, and the kitchen area is well put together. It's nothing like he expected from him. There's a next of blankets cluttered together under the window, and all he can make out is two heads of curls, they're not moving, he assumes they're sleeping.

Thaddeus follows his line of sight and shakes his head, smiling slightly. "Don't mind them. That's Sasha, my fledgling, and Zander, my pain in the ass, it's the fledglings nap time and Zander isn't one to miss out on nap time." He waves him in. "Come on, come on, inside with you, close the door behind you, don't let the heat out."

Mendrion hurries in, closing the door behind him just as he was told, and turns to the man for further instruction. Thaddeus opens the door to his wardrobe and reaches in, pulling a tunic off a hanger, and turns, tossing it to the guard, he's so shocked by this turn of events he fumbles to catch it before it hits the floor. "Put this on."

He nods, tugging out of his tunic quickly and pulling the Warden's over his head, it's big on him, the hem comes down passed his knees. The older angel chuckles as he turns to look at him, setting his things down on the desk, and he gestures to his boots. "Go ahead and climb in, it's naptime, for everyone involved." He nods, stepping forward, across the room, and eyes the neatly made bed nervously, dare he do this. Theo would skin him alive if he ever even thought about climbing into his bed.

Fingers curl over his shoulder, rubbing in soothingly, and he turns slightly, the Warden's beard rubbing over the side of his forehead. "Go on, it's alright, I changed the sheets and washed the blankets. No evidence of Theo's presence is there, I promise." He nods cautiously, pulling the blankets back, and slides in. The bed is soft under him, like a sort of memory foam, a cloud even, and he crawls over to the other side, settling down against a pillow. He watches the Warden sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over to untie his boots, and turn around, sliding in next to him.

Thaddeus raises his arm. "Come here, it's alright, its chilly, we can share the warmth."

Mendrion nods, scooting closer, up under the older angel's arm, resting his head on his chest. Fingers thread through his curls, rubbing at his head lightly, and the blankets are pulled up over him even more. "See, this isn't so bad, is it?"

He shakes his head, sighing in comfort, the scratching at his head feels good, he likes the feeling of the arm curled around him, it feels nice. "It's not. It's nice."

The Warden hums softly. "I guess you could say that I am a bit soft."

The guard remembers how his bottom had felt after their first meeting. "But, not all the time."

He feels the man shake his head. "No, not all the time, I can be very strict." He strokes his curls back. "I just don't believe in being a hard ass all the time, it's no fun for anyone, it can be tiring, it takes more effort to frown then it does to smile." Mendrion listens to the beating of his heart, the thrum of his grace running under his skin, it's comforting. "I like smiling, I like to make people laugh, it makes everyone feel better, we don't need to have doom and gloom to run a serious business."

"You're not how I expected you to be."

"I hope that's a good thing." He strokes his curls back, resting his cheek against the side of his head, rubbing lightly at his shoulder instead. "I'm not weak because I treat people the way I do. I can be just as strong as anyone else."

"You throw heavy hits, too." Mendrion listens to the rumble in his chest as he chuckles. "I do, don't I, just don't give me a reason to throw them."

"I won't." He nods, perhaps it could be seen as nuzzling closer. "I don't want to have to go through that again."

"Neither do I. I don't like being that guy. Don't make me have to be that guy."

The young guard licks his lips. "I thought you were going to whip us."

"Never. I don't whip my prisoners and I don't whip my guards. I'm not that unjust." He feels him press a kiss to his curls. "Now, enough talking, it's naptime, mister. Close those eyes."


	89. Skipping School

"Costa? Should you not be in class right now?"

The fledgling scoots farther under the large oak desk, whimpering softly at the mere word, and he curls in tighter. He does not like going there, they're mean to him, because of his size, and he's never going back. No matter what his choir master says. Never going back.

He hears faint rustling as the elder shuffles through some files of whomever his patients are this week, and a set of legs come to the opening in the back of the desk, he doesn't sound angry with him, which is a relief at a moment like this. He sits in his desk chair, robes settling over his knees, and the fledgling giggles softly despite himself when he wiggles his toes.

The chair scoots back just an inch, and large hands pat his robe covered lap invitingly. "Come here little one."

Constantine crawled out from his hiding place, and reached his little hands up, sniffling when fingers hook under his arms and snag him up, settling him on his lap. Raphael gives him a soft look and rubs away the trace of tears with a gentle thumb.

"What are you doing here my fledgling? I do believe your brothers are in the class that you are meant to be in as well."

The young boy huffs softly, tugging one of the many folds of the healers robe up and around him, settling back against the elders chest. Large hands fold in front of him, fingers locking together, completely at ease. Constantine whimpered softly and tugged at his robes. Raphael peered down at him, rubbing at his head a moment, "Perhaps we should spend the day together? It has been so long since it has been just us."

He sniffled again, looking up at the archangel with large widened eyes, he had thought that surely he would be scolded for missing classes and then taken there straight away. His guardian was a busy angel, being the Healer of all of Heaven and having his own classes to teach to the angels higher above Constantine in the food chain. Personal time with Raphael was something that was hard to come by.

"I can most certainly clear my day for my youngest charge."

Constantine giggles softly, wetly, into the healers robes as the fingers itch softly into his left side, "You not mads?'

Raphael tilts his head as he gazes back down to his youngest, "Oh? And why would I be angry with you?" He lifts the little one up as he stands himself, settling the boy on his hip, "I can see when one of my little ones has need of my time." He wipes away the tears again, brushing a finger over his chin, and taping the tip of his nose, smiling when he gives a soft little giggle again. "What do you want to do today, my little fledgling?"

"Can we….Can we goes to the Garden and has some fruits?"

"Sure, we can." He bounces him lightly on his arm as he turns, gathering a blanket up from the table against the window. "What else should we do?"

"Cans you read to me?"

"Of course, I can." The Healer turns them to the bookshelf in his office, patting his bottom lightly. "You pick the story."

The little fledgling healer taps his lips softly with a tiny little finger. "T'at one!" He points at a green book, that's his favorite color, and looks up at the Healer with a bright smile.

Raphael chuckles softly, pointing to the book that was gestured to. "This one, Costa?"

"T'at one, RaRa!"


	90. Getting Even

Sorath giggles to himself as they crossed the training field, watching the other Powers address their newest new recruits with that unusually out of character sternness that wouldn't last for the duration of the week, explaining the rules and expectations of each and every one of them now that they had been accepted into the warriors flock. His eyes surfed over them all, taking in their similar posture, he hid his smile behind his hand as him and Sabaoth walked side by side across the field for the entrance, making their way to their post at the Prison. He spots a familiar back, arms crossed over his chest tightly, long hair in a bun a top his head, much like how Saba wore his, completely immersed in what he was doing.

He giggles again and pokes his elbow in his older brother's side, Sabaoth looks down at him curiously, and follows his line of sight, chuckling softly to himself. "Just don't let him catch you."

The young guard nods, darting off from his brother's side, crossing the field silently to stand behind the Captain, unknowing that someone was hiding behind him, his new recruits saw him though, and watched with wide curious eyes, waiting on baited breath to see what someone of his stature would do to someone of Nisroc's.

He giggles softly and reaches up, digging his fingers sharply into the Power Captain's ribs, laughing brightly when the Captain lets loose an undignified shriek, throwing his hands up in surprise, jumping forward involuntarily, and he darts off just as the Power spins around, laughing as the Power points at him threateningly. "Just you wait, little guy, you'll get what's coming to you."

Titus chuckles softly, waving to the young guard as him and his partner disappear down the stairs, standing with the group next to his brother. "I can't believe he actually managed to make you shriek like a fledgling."

"Keep it up and I'll make _you_ shriek like a fledgling."

…

He waits for the right moment to strike, he knows the little guard knows it's coming, he wants him to stew in it for a while, and he bids his time waiting. He knows that his moment it coming, Tus has been away all week, and when he gets back, he always sleeps in the captain's room with him for the first night, and he waits in the shadows of his doorway for him to cross in front of his room.

And he snatches him up as soon as he's in range, Sorath shrieks in surprise at being tugged up off his feet, yanked over through the doorway of the Captain's room.

"You know what happens when you get me?" He smiles up at the young angel, he giggles down at him, shaking his head softly. "I get you back." The Power carries the young guard to his bed, tossing him down playfully over his bed, Sorath shrieks lightly as he falls forward, rolling over the Powers bed, fingers curl around his lower legs, tugging him back towards the other edge of the bed before he can roll over the far side. "I'm going to show you just what happens to those who think they can get me." He tugs the laces of his boots free, tugging his boots off, he's not getting dirt from the training field onto his clean bed. Sorath giggles harder, turning over in an attempt to crawl away from him, fingers curl around his ankles and pull him back though, tugging him under the looming Captain, huffing slightly at the sudden weight over top of him, and squealing with laughter when fingers dig into his sides harshly, wiggling up to his underarms, digging in there, and then race back down again, they curl under him to dig into the sides of his belly and he squeals again when they race back up to his underarms.

He screams with laughter when a beard brushes over the side of his neck, lips press to the smooth skin, and he blows a vicious raspberry against his neck, fingers wiggling under his arms still, and he starts to kick behind him, trying to pull himself out, desperate to get away from those torturous fingers.

He inhales deeply when the fingers finally pull away, arms curl under him, around his tummy, and fingers dig into his sides as he's turned over, laying over top of the mighty Power, kicking wildly and tugging at his hands feverishly. He burrows back into his neck, and he squeals, scrunching up on himself. "You see what happens to those who try and get me?" Fingers spider wildly over his belly and he shrieks with laughter, throwing his head back against the Power's shoulder, fingers dig into his lower belly and he shrieks with laughter again. "They get tickle tortured."

"If you really want to tickle torture my little angel, you have to know how, you have to know all those little special spots."

Sorath giggles breathlessly when the torment halts, as they both look up to the doorway, Titus smiles at them, waving a few fingers to the small guard his brother is punishing, Sorath smiles brightly and waves back, he's so happy Tus is back. He missed Tus greatly. He was gone for so long. Chuckling, the younger Power leans against the door frame, looking up from his little angel's eyes to those of his older brother. "Would you like me to show you?"

"Why, brother, I would be honored if you'd show me." Nisroc pokes him in the belly playfully and he giggles, squirming lightly, watching his captain with wide shining eyes. Titus bows slightly, pushing away from the doorframe. "It would be my pleasure, brother dearest, no one knows my little angel quite like I do."

The Guards captain sits on the edge of the bed, curling his fingers around the young angels knee, pulling his leg closer to him. "Spot number one; the inner thigh." Sorath's eyes widen in surprise, and squeals with laughter when he digs the fingers of his free hand into the meat of his inner thigh, wiggling his fingers in deeply, squeezing down to his knee and then back up again, holding tightly to the kicking leg he's torturing. "Hold him down." Nisroc laughs softly in his ear as he curls his arms around him tightly, keeping him from moving away, and he squirms and kicks with the might of a mad man, cackling with laughter, head pressed back against the Power's shoulder.

He breaths in deeply when the fingers finally pull away from his thigh.

"Spot number two, the belly, brother if you'd please." Nisroc nods firmly, digging his fingers into either side, wiggling in deeply, and he squeals again, kicking wildly against his hold, making him shriek was still worth it though, it was always worth it.

Sorath kicks his captain in the shoulder, catching him by surprise, and he tumbles over the edge of the bed in his surprise. He turns over in the Captain's hold, curling his arms down around him, pressing his cheek to his chest, he digs his fingers into his ribs. Nisroc shrieks brightly, laughter making his chest rumble under his ear, his arms curling tighter around the young guard in his shock. Titus sits up, rubbing at his shoulder lightly, and snorts at his older brother's high pitched laughter. "I forgot how amusing it was to watch someone get you."

"Yoohohohou trahahahhaaitor!"

Nisroc inhales deeply, digging his thumbs into the young guard's hips, he shrieks and curls, enabling him to curl his fingers around his waist and throw him to the side. Jumping from his bed, he curls his arms around the younger Power, digging his fingers into his sides. Titus shrieks in surprise, again, and curls up on himself. Sorath straightens, smiling at the sight the two Power's make, and decides to come to his captain's rescue. Standing on the edge of the bed, he launches himself forward, coming to land on the Captain's back.

He yelps in surprise, stumbling forward from the momentum, hands flying back to curl around the legs of the angel hanging from his back.

Turning to his brother, Nisroc tilts his head slightly. "Tus, why stand against each other when we can stand as one against our little guy."

"Good point."

Sorath knows when he's being turned against, his eyes widen as they both turn to look at him, from over the Captain's shoulder, and he shrieks lightly, sliding down from the oldest Power's back, kicks softly at his knees, laughing as he stumbles forward into the other Power, and takes that as his moment of escape.

He laughs as he runs down the hall, shrieking when he hears the sound of feet following him, and arms catch him around the waist. He slams back into someone's chest, they huff lightly at the impact, and he struggles against his confines as his captain steps out from behind him, the arms tighten around his waist. "Oh, little angel, good maneuver, bad idea."

"Indeed," The Captain's voice rumbles behind him, a beard rubs lightly against his ear, and he giggles at them both. "We were going to go easy on you, perhaps not now though, you deserve some torture after that."

Titus squats in front of him, looking up to the older Power above them. "Hold him still." Arms slide up to curl around his chest, trapping his arms against his sides, his captain smiles at him, staring into his wide eyes as he positions his fingers over his lower belly. "I'm going to torture this little belly." Sorath giggles, sucking in his belly as best as he can, it shakes with repressed giggles. He shrieks when those fingers wiggle in, squirming side to side, pressing his head back against the oldest Power's chest. "You can't get this belly away from me." He shrieks again when the fingers wiggle up to his belly more fully, fingers curl around his sides gently, and thumbs dig into either side of his belly button. "The best spot to get revenge though, out of all the spots, is the belly. Do you know why the belly is the best, Sora?" He shakes his head, squirming under him, shrieking when he claws his fingers over the middle of his belly. "Because this belly is the best spot for tickles, it can't handle the simplest flutter of fingers, especially when someone lifts your tunic up, and," he lifts the tunic up, takes a deep breath, and presses a raspberry over his belly button. The young angel squeals brightly, screaming with laughter when he buries his face into the side of his belly and blows another raspberry, then he jumps to the other side and does the same, the young guard cackling hysterically all the while, squirming and kicking out. "I told you this belly was going to be tickle tortured." He curls his fingers around his hips, takes another deep breath, and blows a vicious raspberry just under his belly button. Sorath howls with laughter, arching his back, pressing his head back into the oldest Power's chest. Titus pulls away, chuckling at his misery, and looks up at his older brother. "Nis, would you like a go at this belly?"

"I think I'll pass on the belly, I would like a chance at those thighs though, that was rather amusing to see."

"Of course, let's get him set down then."

Which is how he ends up howling with laughter, arms curled around his belly, twisting from side to side, as his legs sit in two laps, restrained above the knee, and fingers kneading into his inner thighs. He squeals and shrieks, arching his back when fingers crawl underneath, wiggling into his under thigh, his leg straightening stiffly as he lifts himself up, trying to pull away from the fingers digging into the sensitive skin underneath. His captain chuckles. "Good idea." And then another set of fingers are wiggling underneath his other thigh, he screams with laughter, shrieks high pitched, like a fledgling, as fingers wiggle and pinch at his under thighs. They carry on for a few minutes, switching between his inner thighs and his under thighs, jolting and jumping every time they the switch between the two spots.

Then they jump up to his belly, laying over the leg they had held captive, and lift his tunic up to reveal his belly, sharing a nod, they both take a deep breath, and press into either side of his belly blowing vicious raspberries at the same time. Sorath screams, cackling as they take another deep breath and blow more raspberries, one after another, he bucks his hips, curling his fingers into both of their hair, tugging desperately.

They pull away at the same time, wiggling fingers in his lower belly lightly, and he giggles breathlessly, squirming from side to side. Nisroc smiles up at him, as he shrieks, his captain digging his finger into a spot he knows to be rather sensitive. "Are you sorry you came to get me?"

Sorath nods frantically, stuttering apologies between breathless giggles, pleading for mercy.

Nisroc chuckles softly and nods, poking his younger brother in the side to gain his attention, turning back to smile up at the young guard. "I forgive you, but, if it happens again, I won't let you go so easily." They sit up from over his legs, chuckling fondly as he curls up on himself, giggling faintly even still.

The Captain turns to his younger brother, and his eyes widen at the familiar expression, and tries to stumble away when arms catch him around the waist and pull him back, between his older brothers legs, held securely, his brother's breath hits his neck softly. "Your turn." And buries his face against the side of his neck.

Titus shrieks just like his little angel does, they come to find out, Nisroc thinks the entire thing is hilarious.


	91. Rockets, Puzzles, and Tickles

"I recognize you." He looks up from the front of the puzzle box at the call of someone's voice, turning to peer over his shoulder to see who had spoken out to him, he spots the Power leaning back against the counter, taking a bite out of a full juicy apple. He points a finger at him as he chews on his piece of apple, swallowing lightly. "You were an Elect." He nods to himself as he takes another bite of his apple. "Sorath, right?"

The young guard nods silently, feeling something icky settle inside his belly, he's about to be called out. He's going to make fun of him. Pick at the fact he didn't make it as a Power.

"You're a guard now, huh?"

He nods again, hugging the puzzle box to his chest, waiting for it to fall over him.

The Power nods, taking another bite of his apple. "Cool." He chews the crunchy fruit and swallows. "You like it?"

He nods again, he likes being a guard, he likes Tus and Saba and Os and Ra, he likes where he is now. He's in a good place now.

"That's cool." He nods lightly, taking another bite of his apple. "Are you waiting for Tus?"

Sorath nods again. "We're going to do a puzzle."

"A puzzle, huh, that sounds fun." He turns the apple in his fingers and takes a bite out of the full side. "I like puzzles."

"You do?" He turns around more when the Power nods. "I have lots of puzzles!"

"You do?"

The young guard nods lightly. "My favorite is this one!" He holds up the box proudly. The Power smiles slightly and takes another bite of his apple. "It is? Why that one?"

"Because it's a rocket ship."

"You like rocket ships, huh?" He smiles when the young guard nods excitedly. "I have a toy rocket ship."

Sorath scoots over the chair slightly, sitting on the edge. "You do?"

He nods. "I do." He takes the final bite of his apple and sets the core down on the counter. "Do you want to see?" Sorath nods excitedly and jumps up when the Power pushes away from the counter, gesturing for him to follow, he hugs his puzzle box to his chest and scurries after him. The medic's room is clean, slightly, there's a made bed against the far wall, the usual fireplace and wardrobe and desk, there's a large tank of sea water just inside the door, a large sea snake slithering around the bottom of the tank contentedly. He leads him to the shelfs above his desk, reaching up for a shelf higher then he can see, his fingers curl around something and his arm comes back, pulling down an old metal rocket ship from the shelf, he holds it out for the young guard to take, and Sorath does so carefully, running his fingers over the smooth metal. Red and blue painted, still in pristine condition, well taken care of.

"It's one of my favorites." He reaches up again, pulling down a blue engine, holding it out for the guard to see, Sorath looks at them both with awe, though his gaze always returns to the rocket in his hand. "But the train is _the_ favorite."

"I like them both. But the rocket is best."

The Power smiles as he turns, reaching up to set the train engine back on the shelf, Sorath holds the rocket out when he turns back around, and he shakes his head, waving his fingers lightly. "Keep it."

"I can _keep_ it?" Sorath looks up from the rocket in excited awe, and the Power smiles, nodding lightly. "You can have it."

"Thanks!"

"No problem", he reaches out and ruffles the younger angel's hair. "Let's go get Tus."

Sorath nods, following after the Power as he crosses his room, across the hall, and knocks on that door lightly. They wait a breath for the one inside to grant them entrance, and he opens the door when the soft voice calls out to them for entrance, Titus watches them over his shoulder and frowns guiltily when the youngest guard steps in behind his older brother, the box of the puzzle they were supposed to work on curled in his arms, a toy rocket in his hand. "Oh, Sora, I'm sorry." He closes the file he was reading through and turns, standing from his seat. "I completely forgot."

Sorath shrugs lightly, he doesn't mind, Tus has been extra busy these last couple nights, the fact that he offered to spend some time with him was good enough. "It's okay."

The other Power shakes his head as he approaches them, taking the puzzle and toy in hand, he turns, setting them on a shelf next to his door. "It's not, little angel, I promised to spend time with you, and I forgot."

"You were busy."

"I'm not busy enough to not be able to make time for you. We haven't gotten to spend any time together for nearly a month, and I promised you we would tonight, I'm so sorry for forgetting." He turns back to face the young guard, looking up over his head for the older Power. "Puri, if you would step to the left about a step and a half." The older Power raises an eyebrow, but steps to the side as he's asked, Titus nods in appreciation and reaches out, wiggling his fingers into the young guards belly. Sorath shrieks, jumping back, and it's in that moment that Puriel understands why his brother asked him to move over, the young guard jumps back into him, trapped in place, no where to run, and fumbles for the other Power's hands, they evade his skillfully, and his fingers squeeze into his sides. The young angel shrieks, squirming from side to side, and the medic smiles down at him.

This is a cute little guard.

"Is this party by invitation only, or can anyone join?"

Titus smiles up at him, pulling his fingers back, wiggling them over the young angel's belly, his giggles lightly, his hands hovering as though to try and catch them when they move forward to dig into his belly again. "Oh, anyone can join."

"Cool," the medic curls his fingers around the young guards waist and hefts him up off his feet, Sorath shrieks in surprise, kicking out slightly, his hands shooting down to curl around the older brothers wrists. Titus chuckles lightly, stepping aside as the older Power steps into his room more completely, carrying the young guard across the room towards the bed, Titus closes his door behind them, turning as the medic tosses the young guard forward on the bed. Sorath tumbles forward, turning towards them as the two Power's come to loom over him, Puriel turns to his younger brother. "Tus, show me what's good, would you?"

"I'd be glad to, Puri."


	92. Physical Affection

"Dad?" He looks up as a head of raging curls pokes in from behind the door. "Are you busy?"

He shakes his head, waving the boy in, and the Nephilim steps in silently, closing the door behind him quietly, making sure it doesn't bang or anything. "What have you done now, Isa?"

The boy crosses to stand before his desk, and he looks up from his journal when he doesn't immediately respond, usually with his customary _'why do you always assume I've done something'_ but this time he doesn't utter a word. The child fiddles with his fingers, and he sits up straighter, preparing himself for the worst, his son has never tried anything _too_ reckless, but he wouldn't find it unbelievable for him to finally cross that unspoken line. "Isaiah?"

His child flinches at the use of his full name, and he licks his lips, looking down to his feet for a moment. "I'm sorry I'm so troublesome, dad."

He hums in confusion, not understanding where this was coming from, and sets his pen down, leaning forward on his arms. "What?"

"I'm always causing you more trouble and stress then you deserve, burdening you, and I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a nuisance."

"My son," he watches him carefully. "Where is this coming from?" He fears the worst. "Has someone said something to you?" That his son is being bullied.

"No, no," the Nephilim shakes his head, and looks up at him, he looks tired, and sad, he doesn't like that gleaming in his eyes, they should be bright, as they usually were, and full of mischief. "It's just….You're always so busy, taking care of everyone else, and you shouldn't have to worry about taking care of your own kid too, especially when they do something stupid, and end up diverting you from someone else who needs you more, and I'm sorry that I get in the way like that."

"Isa, my son," his dad holds a hand out to him. "Come here." He takes his father's hand, it guides him around the edge of his desk, and pulls him down to rest in his lap. He leans against his chest, as arms curl around his waist, and lips press firmly to his forehead. "You have no need to apologize to me. I don't find you burdensome, and you are no nuisance, you're curious and adventurous, a tad on the reckless side, but that's who you are. I wouldn't have you any other way then who you are." His large hand rubs over his arm lightly. Emerald green eyes looking into bright electric blue. "Yes, I am a busy man, on most days, and yes, I do take care of you often because of your adventures, I take care of you because you are my child, my only son, and I care deeply for you. I care for you because I know if I do it, it will be done right, and not to discredit my healers, they knew very well what they are doing, but I will trust no one else to care for you other then myself, because I know how to care for you best. I don't mind it, not in the slightest, you could go so far as to say, you make sure my skills never become rusty." He smiles down at him, pressing their foreheads together, and the Nephilim boy smiles when he brushes their noses together, he counts it as a victory, making his children smile will always be a victory. "Me worrying for you does not make you a burden, and it does not get in the way of my faculties, I worry about you because you are my son, my child, I worry for you just as much as I worry for your sister, though perhaps I worry about you a bit more, because you like to wander and explore new places, because you are so adventurous, I worry you will get yourself into a situation I am not fast enough to pull you from or aid you in. My worrying about you does not make you a burden to me."

Isa stares up at him silently for a moment. "You promise, dad?"

"I will never lie to you. If I think you are being too reckless, I will say something, and order you to stop."

"Or, I'll be grounded?"

"Right, if you do not, you will be grounded." He rubs the side of his thigh with his thumb. "Remember the incident with the fireworks?"

"I remember your hand and how heavy it is."

"I'm glad it was memorable." Raphael smiles lightly in amusement. "You almost blew yourself up and I was furious, because it was so reckless, and you had not stopped when I told you to." He squeezes the outside of his thigh lightly. "What brought this on, did something happen?"

Isa looks down at his hands. "I don't want to get them in trouble."

"Isaiah, I do not tolerate bullying in my flock, you know that just as well as everyone else, if someone has been bullying you, I want you to tell me."

He cringes at the use of his full name and knows not to push his luck when that's involved, and he nods lightly. "Arlo." He feels bad for ratting him out, but he doesn't want to face his dads ire, especially when it came to something he took as seriously as he took bullying. "He said the only reason you kept me around was because you didn't want me to burden someone else."

Isa looks up when his father doesn't respond, at first thinking it's because he agrees, but taking in his expression, particularly the gleam in his eyes, he knew he was wrong, he was just angry.

He takes a moment, and the Archangel finally sighs, shaking his head lightly, patting his outer thigh lightly. "Thank you for telling me." The Healer shakes his head lightly. "Titus warned me about him. I will deal with this immediately."

"Please don't tell him I was the one who told."

"I would never." He curls his left arm around his waist and reaches for his pen with his right hand. "I will deal with this once I am done with my entry. You'll wait upstairs, Oren is up there, he had a bit of a headache and I gave him the day to rest, knowing him, he'll drag you down into bed with him, and you'd best not fight it." He squeezes his hip lightly. "You could use all the rest you can get, my little insomniac."

"I'm not an insomniac, my late-night escapades are completely optional."

He chuckles, leaning over to kiss the boy on the cheek lightly. "I _know_ they are."


	93. Playing Chicken

He loved his son, he truly did, he loved him with all his heart, just as much as he loved his daughter, one thing he didn't like, however, was his son's antics. It was like he purposefully put himself into harms way just to see how far he could push him, how much he was willing to heal, how many lives he truly had.

He loved his son, but he caused him so much exasperation, how could one child cause so much trouble.

"Isa, what on earth are you _doing_?"

The Nephilim grits his teeth, holding a ball of flames in his hand, staring at his youngest Virtue. Zaveriel smirks lightly, holding his own ball of holy flames, but his smirk quickly faded into a biting of the lip.

Raphael looks between the two of them, shaking his head, and reels his hand back to smack his son over the back of the head. It breaks the boy's concentration, and he yelps, dropping the ball of flames to the floor, where it dissipates with a puff of smoke, he stares down at the slight scorch on the stone floor.

"Aw, dad!" Familiar bright blue eyes turn towards him. "I was winning!"

"You're both idiots, is what you are." The Archangel snags him by the wrist, tugging him closer, he catches sight of his youngest Virtue's smirk. "I wouldn't be so smug, Zaveriel, you can be the one to explain to Oren what happened to _your_ hand." His smirk fades. "That's what I thought. Go on." Zaveriel looks regretful as he turns to spy out his older brother, and nods, a tad begrudgingly, heading off to him.

Isa makes a nervous sound. "Can Ori take care of my hand too, dad?"

He gives the boy a look, _the_ look, and his mouth closes with a soft pop. "No, _I'm_ going to take care of you."

Isa gulps softly. "That's what I was afraid of."

He narrows his eyes. "What was that?"

"I love you, daddy."

"That's what I _thought_ you said."

A yelp makes it's way to his ears and he looks around, spotting his youngest and his oldest, Zaveriel is rubbing the back of his head pitifully with his unburned hand, Oren snaps something, what it is, he has no idea, and yanks the younger angel forward sharply.

"You'll be gentle right?" Isa trots forward to walk at his side, looking up at him with those same wide eyes that got him out of so much trouble as a young child, perhaps that's where he'd gone wrong, perhaps he hadn't been as firm as he needed to be. "I mean, it hurts, you'll be gentle, right, dad?"

"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?" He pushes him down to sit on the edge of a bed, and pulls a chair over, reaching over to pull a cart closer to him. "You better not move."

"I'll try not to."

He hums, digging through the second drawer for a few bags of black tea, he drops them into a bowl of cool water sitting on the top of the cart, waiting a few minutes for it to steep and the water slowly fades into a dark brown. Removing the tea bags, he pulls the bowl down to rest on his knees, gesturing for his son to stick his burned hand into the water. Isa sighs at the cool feeling.

"What were you even attempting to accomplish doing something so foolish?"

He smiles slightly, as though his hand wasn't tingling from the burn over his palm, and he wasn't leaning forward with his hand in a bowl of cool black tea. "Zaves said he could hold onto holy fire longer then I could."

Raphael sighs deeply, that kind of sigh that parent's give when they are questioning why they must deal with such things and shakes his head exasperatedly. "You don't have to take everything as a challenge you know, you could be a normal boy, not putting yourself into harms way every time my back is turned."

"I don't put myself in harms way _every_ time your back is turned."

He levels a dull look at the boy, and he smiles slightly. "Isa, that does not help your case."

"I knooow." His son whines softly. "But, if I was any different, your life would be boring."

"Are you telling me, that you do all of this, to keep me _entertained_?"

"Yes," he back tracks quickly at the look he receives. "No, _no,_ no! It's not like that! Forget I even said that! What! I don't know! Daddy, my hand hurts!"

The Healer stares at him for a moment, and huffs, shaking his head again, pulling the teenagers hand from the water. He sets the bowl back on the cart and reaches into the bottom drawer for a small towel. He dabs the boy's hand dry, perhaps a bit firmer then he needs to, judging from the squeaks the boy lets go as he does, and sets the towel aside, leaning over to dig through the second drawer again, pulling out a bottle of cream. Aloe vera could treat any minor burns, and this wasn't too major, possibly on the second-degree scale, but most certainly nothing too serious. He rubs a few fingers full of the aloe over his palm, a bit firmly, and wraps it securely in a swath of gauze.

Isa whines as he pulls his bandaged hand back, waving it slightly, as it throbs, his dad had _not_ been gentle. " _Ooowww!_ Your bedside manner is terrible! That hurt even more then holding the flames did!"

His dad hums softly, patting him on the knee for his attention, and holds out a small cup of two blue pills and a glass of water for him. "Here, take these, they'll help with the pain." He nods as the boy takes the cup with the pills and then the glass of water. "And, my bedside manner is _impeccable_. Even to those who are extremely _stupid_ sometimes."

"Are you talking about me?" The boy follows him as he guides him around into the bed, leaning over to pull his sneakers off, and pulls the blankets up over him. "I feel like you're talking about me."

"Heaven's _no_." The way he says it leads him to believe otherwise. "I would _never_ call you stupid."


	94. Of The Sleep Deprived

"Hey," he settles a hand on the nephilims head, it doesn't break his stare, and he frowns, pinching him on the arm lightly. "Hey, Isa," he gets no outward reaction to his being there and his frown deepens, he turns to look over his shoulder, raising his free hand, to gain the other's attention behind him. Emerald green eyes meet his, and there's a quick nod, as the Archangel passes a stack of folders to the young healer standing at his side, she scurries off and he steps forward, making his way over to their side. He turns back to the Nephilim boy when he hears the Archangel approaching clearly, over the general chatter and noise of the Infirmary space around them. "Isa?" The boy doesn't turn to look at him, doesn't move, not even a twitch, he just stands there, staring at the wall unblinkingly.

"Oren, what seems to be the trouble here?"

The Virtue shrugs, looking over to the Healer over the boy's head, and pokes the child in the arm, gaining no response. "He's not responding."

Raphael frowns, reaching out to shake the boy's shoulder, he moves with the motion, but doesn't break his stare. "Isa," he curls his fingers under his chin and tugs his head around forcibly. "What are you looking at?"

The break in the contact breaks him from his reverie, and the boy jolts slightly, reaching over to rub at his arm. "Ow! Who pinched me!"

"I did." He turns at the voice, looking up to the angel at his right, Oren's raised his hand slightly, pointing to himself as he did. "Like, a minute and a half ago."

"Isa, my son," he's turned around again, and he looks up into his dad's emerald eyes. "Why were you staring at the wall?"

Isa rubs at his head lightly, turning as much as he can in his dad's grip to return to looking at the wall. "It _moved_!"

"What?"

"It _moved_ dad!" He turns back to the Archangel before him. "I swear, it moved, and I was watching it in case it moved again."

"Right, it moved, follow my finger for me." The oldest angel here raises a finger in front of him, it hovers in front of his nose, and he goes cross eyed to stare at it, and he follows it as it moves to the right, turning his head slightly. "No, no, keep your head straight, follow with just your eyes." He nods and straightens his head again, the finger moves the other side, and his head turns again. "Just your eyes, Isa."

"I am!"

Oren raises an eyebrow behind him, and reaches out, curling his hands around the sides of the boy's head, keeping it still. Raphael moves his finger back over to the right, and the boy tries to follow, he gasps softly. "Dad, where'd your finger go!"

"What do you mean where'd my finger go?" The Archangel's eyebrows scrunch together. "It's right here." He wiggles his finger and Isa stares, narrowing his eyes, and shakes his head as much as he can with the Virtue holding it. "Where, I can't see it!"

"Isa, when was the last time you slept?" He drops his hand and stares down at the boy, daring him to make something up to ease this away, and the boy gulps lowly at the sternness shining in his eyes. "You're mind is on the brink of shutting down on itself."

"Umm….I don't know….." The Nephilim physically counts on his fingers. "Maybe….four nights ago?"

_"Four nights ago!_ " Raphael takes a breath to calm himself, running a hand down his face, sighing deeply to relieve himself, and gives his boy his attention once more. "We're getting you to bed."

"What?" He stumbles forward when Oren releases his head and pushes him gently, his dad catches him before he can actually trip over his feet and guides him around fluidly. "But, I'm not even tired!"

"You're right, you're not tired, you're _exhausted_." He's guided to a rather large bed, one of the bed's in the back, those ones are larger then the others, he doesn't understand why, he thinks it was a design flaw. "You're about ready to keel over." He watches his dad pull the blankets back and gesture to the bed. "Climb in."

"I don't know man."

"Isaiah, climb in."

_Uh oh, the full name_. The Nephilim nods obediently, slipping out of his high tops, he crawls sloppily into the bed, sliding under the blankets as they're held up for him to climb under. He lays back against the pillows and rubs at his eyes, staring up at his father, he smiles down at him. "Get some sleep."

"Dad, I'm not tired though."

"Isa, I love you, with all my heart, and that is why I say with the utmost certainty, if you do not go to sleep, I will have _no_ hesitation in drugging you."

He tilts his head. "But, dad, I'm running on a streak of four days, here."

"Yes, and that streak ends now, you will never attempt to break it." The archangel brushes his thick silky curls back. "Go to sleep."

"But, dad, I can't. My mind won't let me."

"Ah, I can fix that." The Archangel holds up a finger, turning to the cart sitting next to the bed, and leans over to reach into the first drawer, withdrawing a small syringe. "Here we are."

Isa's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "No, no that's okay, I can force it."

"No, no, if you need help, it's my job, as your father and as the Healer, it's my job to help you."

He uncaps the needle and sets the cap on top of the cart, leaning over to sit on the bed, reaching to pull the blankets down.

Isa stares at the shot and scoots away as much as he can. "No, no, dad, please don't, it's gonna hurt, don't hurt me, daddy."

"Oh, calm down, it'll only be a pinch." He shakes his head when his son reaches for his sleeve. "I'm afraid it doesn't go there, my child."

The boy's eyes widen when it dawns on him, it takes a moment for his sleep deprived mind to figure it out, and he shakes his head. "Dad, no, not that, not there, I'll go to sleep, I swear."

"You said you physically could not fall asleep and I intend to help you with this problem."

"You really don't have to."

"Oh, but it would be my pleasure." He pats the side of the boy's thigh. "Roll up."

"No! No, those hurt the worst!" His boy whines pitifully. "Why are you trying to hurt me daddy!"

He shakes his head. "Now, you're just being dramatic." He pushes the boy over forcibly, pulling his sweat pants down slightly, and sticks the needle into the side of his left cheek, pushes the plunger quickly, and pulls it out a moment later.

That doesn't stop the boy from shrieking softly, rubbing at his left butt cheek, whining pitifully. "Daddy, that hurts! Why are you being so mean to me!"

"Hush now, my boy, you're alright." He rolls his eyes, it's a fond gesture, and he leans forward to rub his fingers through the boy's curls soothingly. "Settle yourself down. It'll only ache for a moment." It only takes a moment, but the boy drops off like a well fed newborn, and he smiles, untangling his fingers from his curls, and pulls the blankets up under his chin. "Sleep well, my little one."


	95. That Time With The Fireworks

"Isaiah!" His head shoots up at the call of his name, just as the fuses of the large rocket fireworks burns up, hands curl around his arms and tug him around, he's pressed to someone's chest as the fireworks go off behind him. The explosions make his ears ring, and the ground rumbles as the large rockets take off, and he peers over his savior's shoulder to watch the colors light up the sky. "What in Gods name were you _thinking_!" A large hand claps over his bottom and he jumps forward, trapping himself against the person as the hand continues to fall again and again. "I told you _no_ , child, when I tell you _not_ to do something, you are _not_ to do it."

"Ow! Ow, dad! Ow! Stop!" He tries to bounce away, but a hand curls around his upper arm and spins him around, the swats continue uninhibited. "Ow! I was fine though! Ow! Ow! I didn't get hurt!"

"You _could_ have! You _could_ have blown yourself up! I do not tell you _'no'_ to be a stick in the mud, I tell you _'no'_ because you are my son and I have only your best interests in mind!"

"Ow! Ow! Ow! You're completely overreacting! Ow! OW!"

He's spun around, his father's eyes glow in the darkness, his power is right under the skin. "You think _this_ is overreacting, just you wait and see what's in store for you."

The Nephilim's eyes widen slightly, gulping lightly as his dad bends at the knee and scoops him up into his arms, he makes not a protest as he opens his beautiful emerald wings, bends at the knee once more, and rockets them into the sky. He ducks his face into the side of his neck, there's a bite in the wind, it strikes him like little knives piercing his skin. He can feel how tense his father is in his position, the muscles are constricted, he's _angry,_ and that in itself makes something sink down into the pits of his stomach, his father is not _nice_ when he's angry.

He feels it when they break through the barrier, and he pulls away from the Archangel's neck, looking out at all the buildings, though he's been in this position numerous times, the sight never ceases to amaze him, it's beautiful, his Grandfather really made the place a grand as possible, He'd really outdone Himself.

They fly over the buildings towards the familiar looming structure that meant his impending doom, he'd hoped they hadn't reached it so soon, he doesn't want to see what his father has in store for him, he's really outdone himself this time.

His father lands just before the two massive open doors, but doesn't put him down, probably to save him the effort of having to chase him down when he inevitably made a break for it, anything to spare himself from his father's angered creativity. He carries him into the Infirmary, he had most probably been working when word had reached his ears of his sons latest escapade, and he'd dropped what he'd been doing when he'd heard of his doings, he carries him down the main row, and he looks around, for anyone who could possibly over him some semblance of aid, Oren shakes his head when their eyes meet and he recalls pouting vaguely. He's carried down beyond the beds, to the office in the back, and that's where he's set on his feet once more, safely inside the office, his father blocking any possibilities of escaping when he closes the door behind him and steps forward, guiding him forward with him with a grip around his upper arm.

"You could have _killed_ yourself, Isaiah, do you realize that?" He's forced to stand before his fathers desk, and he turns to look up at the tall man, wincing slightly at the heat in his eyes, he's really done it this time. "When I told you _'no fireworks'_ , I was not trying to quench your adventures nor your fun, I was trying to _protect_ you. You could have blown yourself up. Despite what you seem to think, you do not, in fact, have nine lives."

"I'm really sorry, dad." He bats his eyes, attempting to appeal to his parent's better nature, the dull look he receives in return proves just how well that works. "I won't ever do it again."

"I think you need a bit of enticement to convince you to _'never do it again',_ lest, I don't think you'll actually _'never do it again'_."

"Umm." He rubs at the back of his neck. "Can we _not_ and _say_ we did?"

"You're stalling."

"I am doing no such thing."

"Mhmm." Raphael gestures to his desk. "Clear the edge."

Isa eyes the desk he gestures to and whines softly. "What are you going to do?"

"I haven't decided. It'll be a surprise for both of us." He points to the desk once more. "Clear it."

The Nephilim boy nods, turning to do as he's told, he leans over carefully to close his father's journal and in his bent position, the Archangel swats him harshly, and he jumps, yelping in surprise at the suddenness of the assault. "Continue clearing it."

"Ow! Okay, okay! I'm going, let's keep our hands to ourselves."

He swats him again. "Don't think you can tell me what to do, child."

The Archangel nods when the edge of his desk is cleared. "Now, lean over the edge."

Isa whines softly and does as he's told, watching his dad as best as he can, as he steps around behind him. He turns his head to watch where he's going, and his face pales, as much as it can, when he sees him reach for his staff. "Please, no, not the staff. Please, daddy. Not that. Not the staff."

"Hush, and look around to the front, Isaiah."

The Nephilim boy whines softly, watching him cross his office once more, and looks down at his hands when he disappears behind him. "Please, daddy, please not that."

"Pants down, Isaiah."

"No, no please, please daddy, not that, anything but that."

_"Down,_ Isaiah."

He sniffles, nodding lightly at his order, and reaches down for the button of his jeans. He takes his time, moving as slowly as he can, and shimmies his pants down.

"Drawers too."

The Nephilim whines softly, biting his lip as he curls his fingers around the waist band of his boxers, and pushes them down slightly.

"Hands on the desk."

He nods again, leaning forward to rest his hands on top of his father's desk, curled tightly into fists, and prepares himself for the worst.

Despite his best preparations, he can't prepare himself for the loud _thwack_ of his father's wooden staff striking his bottom, and it doesn't stop the scream erupting from him as he jumps forward against the edge of the desk. It whistles as it swings back and then back around, and he screams again when it makes impact, bouncing lightly in place. His father is a strict disciplinarian, he doesn't hold his punches, and he never takes it too far, he's a pretty fair guy.

Seven _thwacks_ in and he's a sobbing mess, full on tears and snot smeared over his warm face, eyes puffy and swollen, his hands pressed to his mouth, when the last three _thwacks_ hit their mark, then they stop. He hears his father moving, over the sound of his own roaring sobs, and then the warm presence returns behind him, large strong hands curl around his the band of his boxers first, pulling them back up, then around the waist of his jeans, pulling those up too, and fingers curl around his arms as he's pulled around.

They make to pull him into an embrace, but he dives forward, burying his face in his father's chest, holding on as tight as he can manage. Arms curl around him tightly, fingers thread between the curls on the back of his head, scratching softly at his scalp, and his father lets him sob into his chest, stuttering out apologies and promises.

"Yes, yes, I forgive you." The Archangel scratches lightly at the back of his head, he looks down when he feels pressure on his boots, and smiles, his son's standing on his feet, and he sways them around softly. "You're alright, there, there."

He sniffles, his sobs dying down, and he looks up at his father. His eyes are back to normal, their soft emerald green, and he sniffles miserably. "I'm sorry, daddy."

"I know you are, my boy, I know." He strokes a finger down his nose. "Don't you ever do that again."

He shakes his head. "Never daddy, never ever."

"Good boy." The Archangel walks them gently around the side of his desk, and sits in his chair, pulling the Nephilim down to rest on his lap lightly. "You'll stay with me for the next week."

"Am..Am I grounded too?"

"Yes, you're most certainly grounded too."


	96. The Shot Of A Gun

He hisses, clutching at his hand, as he walks into his fathers Infirmary, he can hear it now, the lecture, the scolding, the tongue lashing, it rings in his ears, he _hear_ it. Oh, it's going to be bad, he's really done it this time, he's gone over that unspoken line.

"Isa, what did you do?" Akriel appears in front of him, curling his fingers around his left wrist, pulling his right hand away, his eyes widening as he lifts his injured hand, looking at him through the hole in his palm. "What on earth?"

"Um, it's a long story."

"Sure," he tugs him forward, holding his hand up, to keep the bleeding at a minimum. "I'm sure your father can make the time to listen to it."

He gulps, he'd been hoping that one of his brothers would treat him, but he should have known, they usually took him to his father, it wasn't fair, but then he knew life wasn't fair either.

His father looks up at their approach, and he hears him heave a sigh, closing his journal lightly, he pushes it away as he turns his chair to the side, gesturing for him to step around. Akriel tugs him around to stand before the Archangel, and Raphael takes his left wrist into his grasp, pulling his hand closer, looking at him through the hole in his palm. "What happened here?"

"It's a long story."

"I've always got time to hear your ' _stories_ '."

Isa grimaces. "Me and Danny were playing Russian roulette."

The Archangel heaves another exasperated sigh, gesturing for his Virtue to pull up a chair for his son, and Akriel nods, sliding one over, Isa sits as he's expected to. "Keep your hand up." He nods, watching his dad turn to the other side, pulling the middle left drawer open, and reaches inside. He pulls out a dark bottle, a rag, a shot, gauze pads, and a swath of bandages, then he turns back to him.

First he takes the shot, Isa whines softly, he doesn't like shots, usually his dad gave him his shots in the butt, because he gained some sort of sick amusement from his pain, he was sure of it, his dad was a cruel being. "I was going to give you this one in the hand, but if you prefer the rear, I would be happy to oblige, and be that _cruel_ being." He looks up, eyes widening, and his dad stares at him, his emerald green eyes shining lightly. "You're projecting your thoughts rather loudly."

He cringes. "Sorry, dad."

"It is alright," he looks back down to his palm, squeezing his wrist firmly when he slides the needle in, offering some semblance of comfort. "I know how painful shots in the rear are. It's my way of giving recompence for your wild adventures and insane ideas." He pulls the needle out and sets the shot aside, reaching for the bottle, he pulls the cap off, and cradles his hand in his own. "What I gave you should numb your palm, but this still might sting a bit, just as fair warning."

The Nephilim boy nods, clenching his eyes closed, he doesn't want to see it when it happens. He yelps, when he pours a bit of the liquid inside the bottle over the hole in his palm.

"It didn't hit anything vital, of which you are lucky." He curls his fingers around the boy's wrist when his hand jerks, undoubtedly from pain. "You'll maintain full function of your hand." He uses the rag to dab up the blood and disinfectant. "Keep your eyes closed, I'm going to stitch the holes closed."

His son nods, thanking him softly for the warning, and curls his other arm around his eyes, just in case they were to open on their own accord out of pure curiosity. He whines when he feels the prick of the needle, and the tug of the thread, in his palm, his hand twitches, but he knows to remain as still as possible, he's had his fair share of stitches, one would think he'd be used to the feeling now.

He's not.

His head feels funny, it feels foggy, his tongue feels like it's made of lead, it's filling his entire mouth.

This always happens. He's really not good when it comes to needles. _Even_ if he can't see them.

"Dad…Dad I don't feel so good."

The Archangel ties off the string of the stitches on his palm and sets his needle down. "Alright, careful, focus on your breathing." He stands from his chair, leaning over at his son's side, slips his left arm under his knees, and his right arm around his shoulders, he lifts him from his chair, cradling him in his arms, he steps out from behind his desk and carries him over to lay on a bed, resting his head back on the pillow. He's a tad rough around the edges, but he always takes care of his patients, even the ones such as his son, the _trying_ one. (He wasn't fooling anyone, least of all himself, he adored his son, he'd do anything to make him as comfortable as possible.)

"How are you feeling?"

Isa licks his lips lightly, opening his eyes, they're a tad hazy, his face has taken on an ashen hue. "I feel dizzy and lightheaded."

The Healer nods, reaching over for the pillow on the bed next to them, and lifts his legs to slide it under his knees. "Just focus on your breathing. I'll finish the other side as quick as I can."

Isa nods, watching his dad leave for a moment to retrieve his needle, and threads it once more as he makes his way back to his side, sitting in the rolling chair next to his bed, he scoots in close, turning his hand over, resting it on his stomach, he sticks the needle in and pulls it through, curls it back around to the other side, pulling the needle through, he pulls the thread through and pulls the two edges of skin together.

He lasts for maybe a moment and then darkness overcomes him.

_"Isa…..Isa….My son…..Isa….Wake up….Come on…Isa…."_

Somethings patting his cheek lightly, and he smacks his dry lips, his mouth is a desert. "D..Dad…Wha' h'ppen'd?"

His vision slowly clears, and his senses slowly return to him, something cool is laying over his forehead, and he stares up at his father. Raphael smiles down at him, rubbing his cheek with his fingers, reaching up to press his hand over the cloth around his forehead. "You passed out."

"Mmmm…..S'rry…."

"It's alright, no need to apologize, it happens." He dabs another cool cloth over his warm cheeks. "How do you feel?"

"Mmm…Hot….Thirsty…"

"You'll cool down in a few minutes." His dad turns, reaching for a glass of orange liquid on the bedside table, and lifts his head slightly. "Take small gentle sips, no gulping, you could upset your belly."

He nods, curling his lips around the edge of the glass, and takes a small sip, swallowing thickly, he takes another sip, this one goes down much easier than the first. "One more." He nods, taking one more sip, this one has no trouble going down when he swallows. "Good, you rest here for a bit, I'll go check on a few things, and return to check on you, alright?"

The boy nods. "Is it okay if I fall asleep?"

He nods, brushing his curls back, setting the cloth back around his forehead. "Yes, that's alright."

"Okay, dad."


	97. Calming The Nerves

"Sir?" He looks up at the knock on his door, smiling to him in greeting, and sets his book aside. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes, come in Sablo." The new elect steps cautiously into the Captains room, his fingers curled tightly, nervously, and Nisroc stands from his reclining position on his bed. "Close the door behind you, please."

"Sir," he does as he's told timidly. His mind whirling as he tries to remember if he'd done anything to cause any trouble. He'd had a hard time keeping up in training that morning, but the Archangel had still been impressed, and the others had promised to help him, no one had seemed mad. "Am I—Am I in trouble?"

"Of course not." He tilts his head in confusion. "Why would you be in trouble?"

"I—I messed up in training today."

"We all have off days." The Captain shrugs it off lightly. "It doesn't make you any less suitable for your gifted position. Abe did good in finding you. You're humble, you don't know how truly talented you are, and that's what we look for. We don't need someone who thinks they're undefeatable. You know your limits and you acknowledge them." He gestures for him to come closer. "The ceremony isn't until next week. But it's been decided. You're one of us."

"Then…Then why did you want to see me?" Sablo inches forward carefully, cautiously, until the Captain's fingers curl over his shoulders and guide him around gently. He sighs in content when his fingers dig in, easing the tension free, and he sags under his touch.

"Because, I could see how tense you were from a mile away." He digs into a particularly stubborn knot. "You need to relax. You're not going anywhere. You are one of mine, and I take care of what's mine, you need to calm down."

"You mean you're not going to kick me away?"

"Heaven's no." He massages at the base of his neck. "We all struggled with the training at first, but with help, you'll learn to keep up. There's no shame to be had. You're still young."

The older Power pokes his side experimentally. "And if you can't calm yourself then I'll have to help you." He smiles lightly as the young elect jolts lightly, leaning away from his hand, and he pokes him again. "As your Captain _and_ your older brother." He dug a few fingers into his side experimentally and the elect under his hands shrieked lightly. "This is indeed an interesting find."

Sablo looks down at the arm that curls around his waist, he hasn't been in such a position since he was a small fledgling, and to think he was in this position again, and under the hands of the _Captain of the Powers_ was almost too much for his mind to comprehend.

"Does this side make you shriek too?" Fingers dig into his left side, and he jumps, shrieking just as much as he had with the other. The Captain chuckles behind him in amusement. "It does. Very good."

"Sihihir?"

"Don't call me that here." He wiggles a finger in his right side and the younger angel squirms lightly, biting his lip. "Not in our home. My name's Nisroc." Another finger joins the one and it nearly breaks him. "Or Nis, everyone calls me Nis around here, you can call me that." Five fingers poise dangerously over his side. "Now, lets see if I can get that laughter you keep biting back out of you." Five fingers skitter up his side and he loses it, bending forward, over the arm wrapped around his waist, laughter exploding from him in torrents. His Captain's chuckles fill in the empty spaces between his fits of boisterous laughter. He had never imagined in his entire lifetime that he would ever find himself in this position with this particular angel. It's almost incomprehensible. But all he can focus on is the fingers dancing over his side.

"There it is!" The arm around his waist slowly uncurls and he makes to step forward, when it suddenly appears again, tugging him back against his Captain. "You step away from me and the tunic comes off."

The mere thought of having ten fingers dancing up and down his bare sides is enough to make him plant himself to the spot, using every ounce of strength he has to keep himself rooted there, lest he see how truly merciless his new Captain might be.

"Good choice."

Five fingers, on either side, poise themselves at the ready.

"Let's see what this does, shall we?"

Least to say, when they begin their dance, he jumps away from him. As promised, the Captain wrestles him out of his tunic, and he puts up as good a fight as he can but finds himself laying tunicless over his Captains bed anyway.

He's unashamedly _squealing_ as five fingers spider up and down his left side and a bearded face burrows into his right.

Sablo doesn't care that the others might hear them, they've all been on the other side of the Captain's tortures, he's seen some of it himself, part of him knows he should have known that his time was coming too.

He's too focused on the— _By Father! Not there! Anywhere but there!_


	98. Getting To Know All About You

After his first encounter with the Captain, things began to grow much more calming for him, at least, it began to grow more calming when in the presence of his Captain. It was hard to be tense around a guy who had once had you sprawled out on his bed while he made you squeal like a fledgling, it was just impossible, the ice had been broken, and he found himself with an older brother he hadn't known he'd wanted until he gotten one.

Sablo had grown up one of six charges to the same caretaker, he was the smallest, the quietest, often times forgotten in the mix of the more rambunctious ones. He hadn't gotten quite as much attention as the others had gotten, being a bit more self sufficient then they had been, even though they had been older then him, meant that his needs were often pushed to the wayside. The others often made fun of his short stature, pushing him around and picking on him, he remembers very clearly how they had told him of everything he would _not_ accomplish.

How they had laughed at him when he had said he wanted to be a warrior.

He was too small. Too shy. He wasn't _built_ to be a warrior. And though the caretaker had scolded them for such behavior, he knew that they thought the same way, they never told him that they were wrong in what they said.

His older brothers, the ones he'd grown up with, had chosen to become warriors too and their teasing had continued even into training. They grew, tall and muscular, while he stayed the same. Maybe growing by a few inches, but there was little muscle he put on, he was still small and lithe, just as he'd always been.

And then word had started spreading of the Powers looking for a new elect and everyone tried their hardest to stick out.

Sablo hadn't had a hope in the world of being picked, being spotted, not by a _Power_ , so he just went about his training as usual. There was no use trying to impress someone who would never be impressed by his small, lithe, self.

And then Abraxos had taken notice.

He'd stopped his walking through the masses, his searching, and came to stand before him as he went through the motions. He'd just stood there and watched, Sablo had fought every urge he had to turn and stare right back, and sighed a breath of relief when the Power finally turned away.

How his brothers had cornered him that evening.

It had only been in his luck that the Captain had entered their barrack, calling them all to attention by his mere presence alone, he'd greeted them all, but his focus was clearly on the quiet, shy, little thing that the others often time made fun of, he was the brunt of many jokes. He'd been offered the position, the others jaws dropping to the floor, and he'd stared at him with shock.

Eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar, under the impression that this had to have been another cruel joke being played.

But the Captain had assured him he was being very much very serious on his invitation.

He hadn't said anything at the time, but when he nodded, accepting the invitation, it had been the brothers he'd grown up with that the Captain had given the task of moving his things up to the Pavilion.

Sablo hadn't met someone quite as playful as the Captain was, an older brother who took the role very seriously, and older brother who acted like an older brother.

"Hello, sir."

He was always welcome in the Captain's room, to borrow from his collection of books, to stand by his side. He was never pushed away. Never frowned upon.

"Do I have to remind you not to call me that here?" Nisroc was sitting at his desk, working on the files he'd been given, he'd put them off for as long as he possibly could. "Again."

Sablo can't help it, he giggles softly, and he just manages to see his Captain smile at the sound as he crosses to examine the books in his bookcase. "I meant, hello, Nis."

"Much better." He closes one of the files and moves on to the next. "Come for a new book?"

"As long as you don't mind."

"You know I don't."

The young Power elect finds the book he'd like to read, pulls it out from its place on the shelf with a gentle finger, and tucks it under his arm for safe keeping. Turning to watch his Captain, the young Power crosses to stand by his side, watching him go through the files page by page, filling in the places that he needs to fill in, making sure every file entry is up to date.

"Do you need help?"

Nisroc smiles up at him for a brief moment, shaking his head in the negative, nodding to the chair next to him. "That's alright, I wouldn't want another soul to suffer through the boredom that is doing paperwork, I'd enjoy the company though."

The younger angel smiles slightly, taking the seat next to him, the elder Power dwarfs him in size.

"So, tell me about yourself," the elder spares him an amused smile. "The only thing I know about you is how to make you squeal like a little fledgling."

Sablo feels his cheeks heat up, and he ducks as he's sure the color red has over come his pale complexion, feeling the burn in his cheeks more than ever when the Captain chuckles softly. He reaches out and pokes him in the side lightly, smiling when he makes the younger angel jolt lightly, and turns the page of the file he's reading through.

"Don't worry about it, it's endearing, but I come back to what I said." Sablo looks up at him. "Tell me about yourself."

"W—What do you want to know?"

"Anything." His writing hand comes to a halt for a moment. "I barely know you." Sablo stares up at him with wide eyes and he sighs softly. "How about your fledglinghood, did you grow up with any siblings? Did you have fun? Get into any trouble? Tell me about it."

Sablo shrugs. "There's not much to tell. I was just as shy as I am now. Quiet. Small. My brothers picked on me a lot. They laughed when I said I wanted to be a warrior." He looks down for a moment ashamedly. "They said I was too small. Too weak. It was the joke of our flock."

"They bullied you?" Nisroc frowns lightly, turning to look at him with more attention, Sablo looks up at him in alarm and nods. "What did your caretakers say?"

He shrugs again. "I mean, they scolded them for it, but I always got the impression they agreed."

"That's unacceptable. Did it ever come to an end?"

Sablo nods. "Yes?"

The older angel narrows his eyes. "Try that again."

"No." He looks down in shame. "They got worse after Abraxos approached me during training."

"They're warriors too?"

"Yes, sir."

Nisroc points a finger at him. "I _will_." Sablo smiles, a giggle bursting from his chest at the thought of it, and he leans away from his Captain. " _Nis_ , I meant _Nis_." He wiggles his finger at him threateningly. "I'll let it slide this time. But _one_ more slip up and you're going to get it."

"Their behavior is unbecoming of a warrior. I'll have a word with them immediately." He looks over the youth next to him. "And, you'll come with me."

"Do I have to?"

"I'll make it an order."

The young elect sighs, nodding in turn, and the Captain rubs his hair fondly. "Don't believe a word they say. The warrior is only as great as their skill is, not their build, and you're the one that's going to become a Power, not them." His hand travels down from his head to cup his cheek lightly. "Your older brothers failed at their most important job. I will not. _We_ will not."

"What?"

"Did you think we're just a group of soldiers?" Nisroc shakes his head. "No, we're a family, and you, my young friend, are one of the babies of our close knit family." Sablo blushes deeply and he chuckles. The Captain throws aside the file he's working through, putting them off for just a little bit longer won't hurt anything, besides it's for something important. "Well, now I'm upset, there was big brothers who failed at being big brothers to their precious baby brother."

Sablo feels as though he knows where this is going, so he slowly starts to rise from his chair, hoping to make his escape in quick fashion.

He stands from his seat just as quickly. "Not so fast." He catches him around the waist as he tries to skirt around him. "We're going to help each other feel better. You need to know what it's like to have a proper big brother. And, I need to ensure my new baby brother knows how much he's cared for."

"I'm okay, really!"

"But we _have_ to make sure."

He knows his escape is a futile mission when fingers curl into his left side and dig in.


	99. A Bit Of Friendly Competition

"I've noticed something here, Sab."

He looks up from the book he's been silently reading, meeting the amused eyes of his Captain, and tilts his head in curiosity. "Noticed what?"

"You spend a lot of your free time at my side."

He sits up from his reclined position. "Is that…Is that a problem, sir?"

The Captain sits up next to him, pointing his finger at him threateningly, and the younger Power scoots away from him with a soft giggle. "One of these days you're really going to get it."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He drops his book, holding his hands up in case he tried to make in an attack, a smile started to spread over his features at the mere thought of it. "It won't happen again!"

"See that it doesn't." The elder wags his finger at him. "Or you're going to get it."

"No," the Captain settles back in his reclined position. "I don't mind having you at my side." He shakes his head. "No, what I meant was, you spend a lot of your free time by _my_ side." He looks over at him curiously. "But I never see you spend any time with the others."

"Well," the young elect shrugs. "I don't know the others."

"You don't know the others?" The elder Power sits up again. "Have you even met Abe? He's the one who told me about you."

Sablo shakes his head. "I only ever met him when he came to watch me that one day."

Nisroc sits up straighter, looking down at him with raised eyebrows. "You mean to tell me that he chose you and never took the time to introduce himself?"

He shrugs.

"Well that's no good." He stands, reaching down to lift the smaller Power up by the scruff of his tunic. "Lets go get you introduced. He'd love to meet you. He's just had his hands full."

The younger Power stumbles forward as the taller Power pulls him, leading him through the lounge to the hall where their bedrooms were, Abraxos' room was at the end of the hall, closest to the Lounge on the outside, and across from his was Abraxas, then there was Puriel, and Titus, then his room, and across from his was Nisroc's.

His Captain knocked on the door standing ajar, pushing it open as he leaned against the doorframe, there was a body sitting at the desk that turned to greet them. He smiles kindly and stood, tossing one of the files he'd been working on to the side, standing from his chair to meet them in the doorway.

"Hey Nis, hey Sablo, what can I do for you?"

"You—You know my name?"

Abraxos raises an eyebrow as he turns to the young angel he'd elected. "Of course, I know your name. I couldn't very well have told Nis that I had picked the _'one angel over there with the short dark hair and bright blue eyes'_ that describes at least half the men out there." He nods lightly. "So, yes, I know your name."

"Wh—Why did you pick me?"

The other Power shrugs. "I liked what I saw."

"You liked what you saw then." Sablo starts when Nisroc comes to stand behind him, his large fingers curling around his thin wrists, raising his arms up above his head. "Give his sides a few pokes. You'll like what you see now."

"His sides, hmm?" Abraxos closes the space between them. "That's good to know." Sablo watches him with wide eyes as he makes a show of raising one finger and poking him in the side, he jolts to the side and both older Powers chuckle at his reaction. "You're right, Nis, I do like what I see now."

Their Captain smiles slightly. "How about a bit of friendly competition."

He smiles, poking the young elect in the side again, chuckling softly when he squeaks. "I'm down for a bit of friendly competition."

"I can make him squeal in sixty seconds, lets see you best that."

Abraxos laughs softly. "Oh, I'll bet you I can manage it in half that time."


	100. You Have To Say It

"So, tell me about yourself, young Sab."

They have their young elect sitting between them, squirming and giggling as they poke at his sides playfully, lounging back on the cushioned lounger. Sablo squirms, from side to side, trying to get away from their assaulting fingers and never quite succeeding, giggling like a small fledgling between two mighty Powers was not how he had envisioned himself when he thought of gaining the position of Power elect.

They're incredibly playful and he appreciates that part of them, that they aren't just simple warriors, hardened and harsh, like the rumors spoke of them.

"You're too giggly to speak aren't you." Even as he says it, Abraxos pokes him in the side, smiling as he squirms away from him, into his Captain on the other side, and he pokes the young elect in the side as well, the whole process repeating itself. "How old are you, you giggly little elect?"

"Tw—Twenty ohone."

"You're just a youngin', aren't you?"

"IhI'm nehehearly grohown."

He chuckles lightly, poking him in the side, encouraging him to bounce over to his Captain again. "Sure, _'nearly'_ being the keyword in that statement." Nisroc gets him to jump back over to his side. "Why, you're just a year older then Aba is. Our _official_ youngest is Hasmal, and he's at twenty six."

"He's just a baby."

"IhIhI ahaham nohot!"

"You are if I say you are." His Captain wiggles his fingers into his side as if to prove his point and the boy shrieks as he jumps back towards the other Power on his right side. "You're going to say it too."

"Wihihill nohohot!"

"Yes, you will." Abraxos chuckles softly, sparing a glance with his Captain over the young elect, Nisroc nods lightly and he smiles as he poises himself for the firmer assault. "You'll say it."

"Mahake mehehe."

Nisroc leans up on his right arm. "We were hoping you'd say that." He shrieks, when their fingers dig in, five on each side, and he squirms harder, trying as hard as he might to escape from between them, but they have him well and thoroughly trapped. He shoves against them, trying as hard as he might to push them away, but their immoveable mountains. "We're not stopping until you say it."

"Plehehehease! Plehehehease!"

Nisroc had been showing him what it was like to have a caring older brother, after the three he had grown up with, showing him what it was like to have someone he could rely on when he needed. Nisroc let him borrow his books when ever he pleased to, so long as he returned them in the same condition he took them in, he let him vent to him, when training became too harsh or too overwhelming, when he caught the glares from the others in his old squadron, he let him come to his room or his office and just complain and rant on and on and on and he never got angry or annoyed or told him to leave.

He hadn't thought about what the others may be like.

Abraxos was quiet, he wasn't an easy book to read, but he'd been nothing but kind since he'd met him. He was just as playful as Nisroc was, like an older brother should be, and he let him borrow his books as well, with the same stipulation.

"While we're proud that you said _'please',"_ Abraxos spiders his fingers up his side and he squirms, kicking out softly, trying to push himself up. "That's not what we want to hear."

"IhIhIhI—IhIhIhI—"

"Awe, listen to him, he's giggling too hard to say much of anything."

"Giggling?" His Captain shakes his head. "No, this is the sound of sweet, unfiltered, boisterous laughter."

They share an amused smile, it's a fond smile they share, when they find a particularly sensitive spot near the top, just under his underarm, above his highest rib, and he throws his head back with uproarious laughter.

"Well look at that," Abraxos lifts his arm slightly. "We found ourselves a spot of gold."

"We could just stay here all day, the others are down on the field training, Aba's helping Titus with his squadron." Nisroc lifts his arm in the same manner, smiling down at him mischievously. "Would you like that, Sab, if we did this _all_ day?"

"NOhohoho!"

"You've got to say it then."

Sablo shakes his head frantically, tugging at his arms, but their grip is unbreakable. "IhIhIhI—IhIhIhI….IhIhI'm thehehehe….IhIhIhI'm theheheheh bahahahaby! IhIhI—Thehehehe bahahahaby! IhIhIhI bahahaby!"

"Awe, he said it, does that mean we have to stop now?"

"Well, maybe after another minute, he's just too precious like this." Nisroc slips a finger under his arm and he shrieks in laughter. "But we should be angels of our word."

"Do we have to though?"

"A relationship is built upon trust, Abe, we do."

They enjoyed their minute down to the very last second. But as promised, their minute passed, and they pulled away. Abraxos smiled in amusement to the mess they'd made of their little elect, leaning back against the pillows behind him, satisfied in a job well done. Nisroc drapes his arm down the backrest, rubbing his fingers through the little elect's dark curls, he's still giggling breathlessly, with his arms curled around himself as if to stave off any sneak attack. "You most certainly are the baby."

"And you're the big brothers?"

"Two of six." He smiles down at the young man. "But, yes, we're the big brothers."

"Better than my other ones."

Abraxos looks down at him from his right. "You had other big brothers?"

To his left, his Captain huffs hotly, shaking his head. "They _weren't_ big brothers."

"Not good?"

He shakes his head again. "Not good."

"Oh, well, that's no fun." The other Power ruffles his curls lightly. "We're good big brothers to have. We'll treat you right."

"Why doho you always tehease me?"

"Because you're cute when you get all giggly."


	101. Meeting The Medic

He wobbles up the stone stairs that lead to the Pavilion above rather carefully, too much weight on his right ankle makes it ache unbearably, he'd landed on it wrong during their little skirmish and it twinged ever since when he put weight on it, so he avoided it at all costs. Anything to keep it from hurting, to avoid the pain, something he should be tougher on, bite his lip and deal with it.

Sablo guesses, he is dealing with it in a way, he's decided to keep it to himself. Not worrying any of the others with a slight twisted ankle, it'll be fine by morning, it's a slight twist. No matter getting anyone worked up about simple things. He'd deal with it on his own and be right again in the morning.

"What happened to your ankle?"

He jumps, startled out of his thoughts by the voice behind him, stern but concerned, and would have fallen backwards had it not been for the large warm hands that curled around his waist to keep him in place, to keep him from falling backwards, down the stairs behind him.

The young elect turns to thank whoever stopped him from falling backwards, his words catching in his throat, he'd only ever met him in passing, he'd found a rather ticklish spot on his thighs, and again on his feet, had a bit of fun, and left him be to his fate with Nisroc. And, yet, here he stood, holding him up from behind, an eyebrow raised as he waited for the answer to his question, was the Power medic.

Puriel frowned at him lightly. "Well?"

"I—I—Hi."

"Hello," The Power looks down at his ankle. "What happened to your ankle?"

Sablo licks his lips, not wanting to upset him anymore then he already has, even keeping it to himself had caused concern. "I—I think I twisted it."

"You twisted it?"

He nods. "Nothing to worry about. It'll be fine by morning." He gestures to the stairs, up to the entrance of the Lounge above them. "I'm just making my way to my room."

"I think I'll be the judge of the injury," the medic adjusts his hold over him carefully. "Stand straight."

"Stand..." His eyes widen slightly. "You _mean_ stand on it?"

Puriel nods. "Yes, I mean for you to put weight on it." He squeezes his hips lightly. "Stand straight."

Sablo nods, licking his lips again, and tenses just before he stands straight, as ordered, and gives a small cry as he settles weight on his ankle. It gives out from underneath him, and he would have fallen to the side had the medic's hold not been so firm on him. "Just as I thought." The Power guides his arm around his shoulders, bent slightly to keep him level, and nods upwards in a gesture for him to take a step forward. The young elect bites his lip as he hops slightly, to make it to the next step, its much easier with the Power helping him. Puriel is practically carrying him up these stairs, as they climb them much faster then he'd have been able to on his own, and sooner then he thought they'd be, they're cresting the edge of the final stair to step into the Lounge.

"What do you mean?" He looks up at him, eyes wide and curious, and Puriel spares him a smile as they continue their trek through the Lounge towards the hall that contains their rooms. "What did you think?"

"You did more then twist your ankle, Sablo," the young elect watches as they pass his room, heading down the hall to another, and the medic pushes the door to his own room open. "I could see that as I watched you make your way through the field for the stairs."

"What did I do to it then?" He tilts his head slightly. "If I didn't twist it?"

"You're a curious little thing, aren't you?" The medic smiles at him, its an endearing trait, it's the trait of a boy looking to learn everything they possibly can. "From what I can see, you've broken your ankle, now, a question of my own," he spares him another glance. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Sablo looks down, averting his gaze slightly, feeling his face heat up. "I..I didn't want to worry anyone."

"I do believe Nis has been telling you about your new older brothers?"

"Yes, sir, he ha—"

"Watch it, mister," a finger pokes him in the side lightly and he smiles at the feeling. "I also know for a fact, a clear fact, that he's been telling you _not_ to call us that." Puriel winks at him playfully. "We don't _like_ it."

"Sorry, won't happen again, si—I mean Puriel. _Puriel_."

"Oh, call me Puri, everyone here does." He helps him gently down onto the bed, easing him down, and he bites his lip to keep from crying out when it jostles his ankle. "Easy, easy, watch that ankle." He helps him scoot back on his bed, settling him up against the pillows. The Power sits on the end of his bed, picking up his wounded ankle lightly, turning to look at him. "Hold onto the quilt now, I'm going to pull your boot off, it's going to ache a bit."

Sablo nods, gripping the quilt tightly, and waits for him to do as he pleases. Puriel nods at him, curling his fingers above the edge of his boot, and then around the ankle of his boot. He squeezes his leg as though in forewarning for what he's about to do, and tugs on his boot, Sablo tries his best not to cry out, a small yelp escapes him before he catches it, and the medic makes quick work, tugging his boot off in one motion.

"Alright, let's take a look at the damage." He tugs his sock off gently, and lifts his leg slightly, examining his ankle closely. "Most definitely broken. The bruising is deep. The swelling isn't too bad. It's a clean break." He turns to look at him, and smiles, squeezing his calf lightly. "Good news is, you'll live."

"I'm relieved."

"Tsk, tsk," he reaches up and squeezes his knee lightly, the young elect bites back a soft shriek and jolts lightly, the Power smiles knowingly. "Such cheekiness is not allowed in this room. You must be punished now." He turns back to his ankle, setting it down lightly, and stands from the edge of the bed. "I'll tend to your ankle first. And, then, I'll deal with your cheekiness."

Sablo watches him crosses the threshold of his room to a shelf against the opposing wall, digs through some of the items, and gathers what he needs. Puriel hums as he works, crossing back over the threshold of the room, sitting back on the edge of the bed, pulling his injured foot back up in his lap. He watches him, somewhat mesmerized, as he works diligently and quickly. Straightening his ankle out, splinting it securely, binding it in a swath of bandages to keep it secure, and sets it gingerly back on the bed. Leaning over the bed, he passes him a vial, Sablo takes it curiously. "It's for the pain."

He thanks him softly and pulls the stopper, downing the contents in one gulp, and immediately he feels the ache lift little by little.

"I'm also sure that Nis has enlightened you to our rules," Puriel turns to look at him more directly, folding one of his legs in front of him, Sablo looks up at him with wide frightened eyes. "Oh, relax, we're not barbaric." He leans forward and pats his good leg. "You are, however, going to be confined to your room for the next week. You can come out for training, meals, and to relieve yourself, but other wise you stay put."

"Now," he curls his fingers around his good ankle and gives it a slight tug, pulling it up to rest in his lap. "About that cheekiness."

"I'm sorry, sir, it wo—" His apology is cut off by a light shriek, having tugged his other boot off, the Power scratching a finger over the sole of his foot. "Now, I'm sure you've been told how much we _detest_ being called that." He tugs on his ankle again, bending his knee over his thigh as he moves around the edge of the bed, closer to him. "Let me show you what happens to those who get cheeky with their medic."

He goes straight in, no forewarning, perhaps a little bit of forewarning, and pinches at the meat of his inner thigh. Sablo squeals brightly, an involuntary squeal, and he tugs at his captive leg in a desperate manner as he squeezes all over, bright boisterous laughter filling the medic's room with its brightness. Puriel chuckles. Spidering his fingers over his inner thigh, driving the young elect crazy with laughter, and he chuckles at his expense.

"Nis was right, you know," he lifts his leg slightly, digging his fingers into the underside of his thigh, and he squeals again, kicking as much as he can with his good captive leg, he reminds him of a fledgling, when you tickle their little bellies, oh, he'll go there next. He can imagine their little elect has a sensitive little belly. "You are cute."

"I! I'm nohohohot cuhuhuteehehe! IhIhI'm tohohouhuhuogh!"

"Sure, you are, I've seen you train, I've seen you in a fight, you're tough." He lifts his leg just a bit more and spiders his fingers up to his knee and he shrieks with laughter. "But this, this right here, this is cute." He tucks his ankle under his arm and leans forward, digging the fingers of his right hand into the meat of his inner thigh again, and the fingers of his left hand under his leg, and Sablo squeals again, throwing his head back in uproarious laughter.

"And, this," he scoots up on the edge of the bed, smiling at the giggles that continue to spill from him, and leans over his waist, his right elbow resting next to his hip, posing his fingers over the sides of his belly. He smiles, wiggling his fingers in gently, and the young elect squeals brightly, squirming under him like a little worm. "This is adorable."

Sablo squirms under him, trying to get out from underneath his fingers, they wiggle torturously and relentlessly in his belly. Squealing and shrieking with laughter when he runs his fingers over his waist line, Puriel smiles down at him down at him, poking playfully at his belly. "They're right, you are a giggly little guy, aren't you?" He wiggles his finger under his belly button, and he bites his lip, little giggles escaping through the attempt at damming them. "As you already know, my name is Puriel, everyone calls me Puri, you can call me Puri." His finger travels from under his belly button to the side of his belly. "I'm another one of your new big brothers, little guy, and I can say with absolute certainty," he nods firmly, "that I am going to take great pleasure in giving this belly of yours a bit of a good tickle torture."

"Nohoho!"

"I imagine this belly must be very tickly ticklish if you're so against it." He wiggles his fingers into his belly lightly and the boy's giggles pick up in volume. "I think I love this little belly already. And your little thighs of course." The Power reaches back, squeezing at his thigh lightly, smiling when the boy squeal brightly and his leg jerks as far as it can from his fingers, no matter, he follows it. He squeezes his thigh for a minute longer and pulls his hand back, poking him in the belly again, all over, and the boy under him jolts and jerks with every poke. "This is my belly now. I'll share it with the others. But this belly is _my_ belly." Puriel smiles at him playfully, wiggling his fingers against the shaking belly gently, and the boy shrieks and arches his back, giggles turning to bright laughter. "Say this is my belly."

"Nohohoho! Sihihir!"

"What did you just call me?" He continues his gentle torture on his belly and wiggles the fingers of his other hand against his side, the boy shrieks, and squeals with laughter, arching his back again and squirming where he lay under the Power. "I swear I just heard you call me _'Sir',_ but I know you know not to, so I must be wrong, am I wrong?" The boy nods frantically, trying to suck in his belly, but his giggles make it extremely difficult to hold his breath in order for him to do so.

"Yeheheheahahes! I sahahahaid Purihihihiahaihiaihi! _Purihihiahahiahii!"_

"That's what I thought you said." He wiggles the fingers up over his side, and then back down over his belly, the little shaking, giggle filled belly. "Now, say this is my belly."

"Nohohoho! It's mihihiahihaihihiahine!"

Puriel chuckles softly, evading the hands batting at his rather expertly, he's the older brother of one Haniel, a rather playful and prankster younger Power, younger brother, and being so, his older brother, one of five, has become rather skilled at tickle torturing little angels. Trickster angels and stubborn angels alike. He can get them all, he's had lots of practice, Haniel and Hasmal can attest to that, Abraxas as well, Abraxos too, at some degree.

Let's just say he's a very skilled tickle monster when it comes to his baby siblings.

"Oh, no, no. It most certainly isn't. This," he wiggles two fingers on either side of his belly button. "This is my belly." His fingers pause, he rests his hands at his sides, and hums thoughtfully. "I think I know what'll get you to say it." He looks down at the belly, still shaking with giggles, even though he's stopped his playful torment. He tugs at the end of his tunic, covering his belly from him, tugging it up from under his belt. Sablo's giggles pick up in anticipation, as he tugs his tunic up from over his belly, baring it to the world around them, and the Power smiles down at him, wiggling his fingers over his belly playfully. "What's going to happen to this little belly now?"

"Nohohohthihihing!"

"No, I don't think that's true." He hovers his fingers right over his belly, wiggling still, their young elect giggles harder, watching his fingers closely. "I think it's going to get some tickles."

"Nohoho!"

"Oh, yes." His fingers finally touch down, and the young elect squeals brightly, arching his back at the sudden sensation. He looks like a fledgling, batting at his hands, smile splitting his face, head thrown back against the pillow underneath him, it's an endearing sight, and it makes the elder Power smile. "My little belly is going to get some tickles." The medic spiders his fingers over to the left side of his belly and the little elect squeals again, leaning over to the right as much as he can, squealing again when the torturous fingers wiggle a path over to the right side of his belly, and he jumps away to the left. "This little belly appears to me to be a bit ticklish."

Sablo shakes his head frantically, boisterous laughter pouring from his lips, jumping from side to side as the fingers tortured the sides of his belly relentlessly.

"Oh, yes, it is," he digs his fingers into his lower belly and the boy arches his back again, laughter exploding harder from his lips. "My little belly is quite ticklish." He looks down to the belly with raised eyebrows. "Now, look at this little roll of baby fat."

"I dohohohahahoahoon't hahahhaahahave baahahahhahaby fahahahahaahhhat!"

"But, you do," he wiggles his index fingers into the little pouch of baby fat and the little elect squeals brightly, flowing right into uproarious laughter, pressing his head back into the pillow underneath him. "It's right here." He keeps on for a minute, just savoring the uproarious laughter coming from their giggly, ticklish little elect, and then he pulls back. "Now, are you going to say this is my little belly, or am I going to have to take some more drastic convincing measures?"

Sablo shakes his head stubbornly, he'd never say it, not even under the worst possible torture.

Puriel smiles down at him, poking his belly playfully, eliciting a bout of giggles from the boy. "You're cute." He continues to poke over his belly, bubbly giggles filling the room, and he smiles adoringly. "I like you, you giggly little elect, very much. Abe made the right choice in choosing you." He rests his hands on either side of him. "Now, about those drastic convincing measures," he looks down at the bare belly with a smile, eyeing it carefully, as though searching out a spot for attack. "Let's see if this'll make you say it."

Sablo's eyes widen, when it dawns on him what's about to happen, and he shakes his head frantically. "NO! No! No, no, no!" He squirms side to side, trying to pull himself out from under the medic. "Not that! Not that!"

"Oh, yes," he grips his sides to keep him still and bends forward. " _That_." Puriel presses his lips over the little elects belly button, takes a deep breath, and blows out a hard and long raspberry. The boy squeals loudly, brightly, and he laughs softly into his belly before he takes another deep breath. He squeals and jerks, arching his back with every harsh playful raspberry, at some point, the older Power snakes his arms under him when he arches his back again, his fingers coming out on either side, and he wiggles them into his sides torturously. He presses a kiss to the shaking belly. "I love this little belly. _My_ little belly." He takes a deep breath, buries his face into the left side of his belly, and shakes his head as he blows out another playfully long raspberry.

Sablo squeals and laughs, boisterous, uproarious laughter, over and over again. Shaking his head side to side, he first pushes against the medic's shoulders with all his might, then moves up to push at his head.

"My ticklish little belly." He takes another breath, buries his face into the right side of his belly, and shakes his head as he blows out another raspberry. "I'm not stopping until you say it."

He starts blowing little raspberries all over his belly, and Sablo screams in laughter, falling limp under the medic, his fingers curled in his hair, and he all but screams out what he needs to in order to get him to stop. "IHIHIHIT'S YOHOHOHAOHOAHAHAHOOUR BEHEHEHEHAHAHALELLY!"

"What was that?" He nibbles lightly at his baby fat, takes a deep breath, and buries his face in again to blow another big raspberry. "I didn't quite catch that."

"YOHOHOAHAHAHHOHOOURS! YOHOHHOAHAHAHHOUR BEHEHEHAHAHHAHAELLY!"

"Did you admit that this was my little belly?"

"YOHOHHOAHAHAHAHHOUR BEHEHEEAHAHAHAELLY!"

The older Power chuckles softly, peppering kisses over his belly playfully. "I love this tickly little belly." He blows a big raspberry into his lower belly. "I could tickle this little belly _all_ night." He smiles up at the hysterical boy underneath him. "And, there's _nothing_ you can do to stop me."

He takes a deep breath, puffing his cheeks up, and the little elect reacts instantaneously, bracing his hands against the Powers head, eyes wide, shaking his head frantically. "NO! NOOO! NO MORE! NO, NO, NO! STAY AWAY! STAHAHAHAY AWAHAHAHY! NOHHOHOAHHAHAHOO!" Sablo squeals and screams when his attempts at holding his face away from his belly fails him and he drops into his belly, burying his face in, and blows a big, long raspberry into his belly button. "IEIEIEEEEEHEHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAIEEHEHEHAHHAHA!"

"I know that you've been through Nis's tickle tortures. He's quite mean. I also know you and Aba are getting quite close," he pulls away and looks up at him, the little elects chest heaving for a breath, giggling feverishly as he watched him with wide attentive eyes. "I want to make sure you _know_ what'll happen if I even _think_ you're having thoughts about coming after me."

"I sahahahaid it thohohough! I saahahahaid ihihit!"

"Oh, I know you did, and I'm happy that you admit this belly is my little belly to play with as much as I want to." He adjusts his position, climbing up over him, laying over his waist, his legs, straddling his legs to be mindful of his broken ankle. " _Now_ I'm teaching a lesson. Don't worry, I'll give you breaks to catch your breath, I'm not cruel, I'm a medic after all." He crosses his arms over his waist to keep him in place. "That was just a bit of a good tickle torture, laughter's the best medicine you know, I'm a medic and an older brother, I'd know that." He leans forward against his arms. "But, now, now I'm going to give you the most tickly tickle torture you've ever had. Nis isn't _nearly_ as bad as I am, _I'm_ the one you should _always_ think twice about it before pranking. Because, I, I will make you _scream_ with laughter. Make you feel like that little fledgling squirming and squealing under the tickly torturous fingers of a big brother." He curls the fingers of his left hand around his baby brother's right wrist and pulls his arm away from his side, leaning over on his elbow, he examines the wide open side, free for him to torture as much as he pleases. "Now that I'm comfortable, lets begin." He leans down, taking a deep breath as he does, and buries his face into his bare side, blowing out a long hard raspberry. Sablo squeals, again and again, as he blows raspberry after raspberry over his side, shaking his head, he explodes with boisterous laughter when he nibbles at the slight chub on his side, reaching over with his right hand to wiggle his fingers into his side above him.

Sablo kicks his good leg wildly, drumming his heel into the mattress under him, smacking his free hand against the Powers head, squealing, and rolling from side to side, as best as he can, feeling very much like he was going to die from laughter, when the medic pulls away from his right side. The tingles are enough to keep a steady stream of giggles flowing. "We can't forget about your left side." He curls the fingers of his right hand around the little elects left wrist and pulls his arm away from his side. Sablo squeals, before he even does anything, and reaches over desperately with his right hand, trying to block his side from the torturous Power above him. "NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! NOHOHOAHAHAHHAHOT AGAHAHAHAHIAAHAN! SAHAHHTAHAHAHYAAY AWAY! NONONO! STAY AWAY!" He screams with laughter when the Power makes a show of taking a deep breath again, his cheeks puffing up, slowly lowering himself to his left side. "NO! NO! YOHOHOHAHAHAHHOU STAHAHAHAHAY AWAAHAHAHHAY! DON'T! DOHOHOHAHAHAHOON'T YOHHOHAHAHAHOOUHUHUHHAUAHUA DAHAHAHAHAHHAAHARE!"

The Power looks up at him, his eyebrows raised, letting go of his mouth full of air. "Don't you dare?" He digs the fingers of his free hand into his side and the younger angel shrieks in laughter, cackling bright and loud, smacking at the hand digging into his side. " _Don't you dare?"_ Those fingers travel up and down his side, creating a tickly path up and down, and he rocks side to side in an attempt to evade them. "What are you going to do to stop me?" Fingers spider of his belly, Puri's belly, that's Puri's belly, and he squeals again. "There's nothing you can do, is there? You're just a ticklish little angel, aren't you, a ticklish little angel who's big brothers are going to tickle torture as much as they want to." A finger wiggles under his lowest rib and he snorts, shrieking and giggling. "Nis has told us all about your _old_ big brothers, he's very fond of you, you know, but he's told us all about them. We're not their biggest fans, as I'm sure you can imagine, they hurt their baby brother, and that's a big no-no. They may not have dared, they were bad big brothers, but we, we are very good big brothers." His finger pokes up and around his belly, Puri's belly, it's Puri's belly. "And, you'll learn rather quickly, we're a bunch of softies when it comes to our baby siblings. And you, little angel, are one of our baby siblings. What you'll also learn, very quickly, is when it comes to our baby siblings, and making them a giggling mess, we're a bunch of tickle monsters." He looks back down to his left side again, eyeing it playfully. "So, yes, I _do_ dare."

"IEIEIEIEHEEHHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHAHA!" Sablo squeals loudly when he takes a deep breath and blows a long hard raspberry against his side, shaking his head, taking another deep breath, and he squeals again when he blows another vicious raspberry. "AHAHAHAHEIEIEIHAHAHAHAHEHEHEAHA!" He twists and turns his captured arm desperately, especially when he hears the medic take another breath, and when he manages to tug his wrist free, the Power adjusts, moving up to the middle of his side and digs his fingers into the upper and lower parts of his side, blowing another vicious raspberry against his side. "AHAHAHAHHEHEHEAHAHAHAHA SIEHAHEHEHEHHHIHIAHAHAHAHIR!"

He laughs at his expense pulling away from his side, looming over his belly, he digs his fingers into the sides of his belly torturously. "I _know_ you didn't just call me _'sir'._ " The boy shrieks and howls with laughter, jumping under him, from side to side, trying to shake his fingers off. " _Again_." He moves his fingers down to wiggle into his lower belly. "We'll break that habit of yours, oh, trust me, we will."

Puriel stops, pulling his fingers away, crossing his arms back over his waist again. Sablo's chest heaves for a breath, breathless giggles pouring from him like rain from a storm cloud, staring at the Power for any sense of movement on his part, any sense of more torture to come, vowing to himself that he'll be ready this time.

He smiles up at him. "Your sides are fun, I'll give Nis that, but me?" He turns his gaze down to his belly. "I like my belly. My adorable, ticklish, giggle filled belly." Sablo's giggles pick up lightly and he presses his hands over his belly, trying to protect it from any tortures, and it makes the Power chuckle. "NO! No! Stay away from my belly! Not my belly! Not again!" Puriel chuckles evilly, playfully, and slowly uncrosses his arms, gently curling his fingers around his wrists, pulling his hands away from his belly. Sablo shakes his head, his laughter picking up. "No! NO! You stay away! Stahahay awahahahay! Puahhahahauri! Puruahahahahuri! Nohohoho!"

"Puri isn't here right now, little angel," he lowers himself towards his free belly, shaking with laughter. "The tickle monster's here and he wants to tickle you."

Sablo throws his head back and screams with laughter when he takes a big breath and starts blow raspberries all over his belly, no breaks, no teasing in between, one right after another. He shakes his head, and the young angel's fingers flex, as he howls and cackles loudly.

He hears his door open, but he ignores it, blowing another raspberry against the young elects belly.

"Puri, we can hear you two all the way down the hall in the Lounge, you're going to kill the poor boy, that's enough." Sablo looks up at the new voice, squealing brightly as another raspberry's blown against his belly, reaching out for the one who stands in the doorway desperately. "Puri, I said that's enough." He goes ignored again, and this time he sighs, nodding in exasperation, uncrossing his arms, and stepped into the room. "Alright, if we're going to be that way, fine. The medic needs a taste of his own medicine and reminded of who's in charge here."

Puriel yelps when two large hands curl around his ribs and fingers dig in deeply, he lets go of the young elects wrists to reach for the fingers digging into his ribs, and he yelps with laughter when he's tugged up and off the younger angel and settled between someone's legs. Arms curl around his chest, fingers digging into his ribs again, and he shrieks, folding back against someone's chest. "When I tell you to do something, you better do it." He shrieks with laughter when a bearded face buries itself into his neck.

Sablo watches his torturer get a taste of his own medicine at the edge of the bed, his breathing slowly calming down, he tugs his tunic back down over his belly, and pushes himself to sit up again, flinching when he nudges his broken ankle.

The medic howls with laughter when an arm curls around his waist, to keep him in place, and fingers dig into his belly. He turns slightly, pulling medic around with him, and nods to his bound ankle. "What happened there, baby brother?"

"I broke my ankle."

"I see," his eyes turn to look into his. "And, did you tell anyone, or did he find out himself?"

"I…" Sablo looks down slightly. "I didn't tell."

"Mhm," he nods, adjusting his hold on the medic, and leans forward to dig his fingers into his thigh. Puriel squeals brightly, cackling loudly, tugging desperately at the older angel's arm. "You're confined to your room for one week."

"I know."

"Good angel." He turns to look down at the medic pressed against his chest. "How's that feel, Puri, huh?"

"Nihihihahahahisisis! Mehehehehahahercy! MERCY!"

"Hhm, I don't know, not only did you ignore me, but you didn't show any mercy on my _favorite_ little elect."

"I'm sohohohohahahahoahorry! I'M SORRY!"

"Nis," the Captain turns to look at their little elect. "Hhm?" Sablo looked down at the medic. "Puri said you weren't nearly as bad as he was. He said he was better then you."

Nisroc raises his eyebrows as he turns to look down at his younger brother, the medic giggles and smiles up at him, and he returns his smile. "Oh, did he now?"


	102. Say Something

They all smiled to the young elect as he joined them in the Lounge, claiming the spot next to their Captain, curling up on the cushioned seat next to him, smiling to himself when the older Power lifts his hand from his thigh so he may lay his head there, fingers threading into his curls when he lays down. Nisroc doesn't so much as pause his response to the guards captain when he lifts his hand for the young elect to lay his head on his thigh, threading his fingers through his curls once he sets it back down, and scratching softly at his head. Sablo sighs comfortably and lifts the book he'd brother with im to his face, opening to the page that had been previously marked, reading silently to himself as to not disturb the conversation he had no part in joining.

"I had to take Aba's knives again." Abraxos rubs a hand over his face, sighing deeply, tiredly, they had hit another rough patch with her, and he was struggling to understand, he understood, but at the same time he didn't. It was something he wouldn't truly ever understand because it wasn't something that had happened to him, it was her past to live through. "I walked in on her."

"It's the best thing you could do, Abe." Nisroc looks up from the youngest Power's head, running his fingers through his dark soft curls. "Just keep your eyes on her until this episode passes."

"She won't talk to me about it anymore. She won't talk to Ak about it. I don't want to force her to talk to me, but I don't know what to do anymore."

"Well don't force her to talk." Sablo turns the page. "She'll only turn away more."

Nisroc looks down at him, smiling slightly at his input, and strokes the curls back from his forehead. "I agree, pushing her could only push her away, and that's the last thing we need."

"I know that, of course." Abraxos looks over to them from under his fingers. "But what other choice is there."

"We'll find something, Abe, don't worry. Just continue to keep an eye on her until we do."

Puriel had been watching him for the better half of fifteen minutes when he finally spoke up. "Sab, I don't think I've ever seen you with your sleeves rolled up."

He seemingly goes unheard, as the young elect turns the page in his book, his eyes skimming over the page. The others hear him though, and each turn to look at their youngest member curiously, they too hadn't seen him with his sleeves rolled up before.

Sablo doesn't notice. "There's no use trying to get her to talk about it." They looked down at him, Sablo didn't see their attention shift, and he flipped to the next page. "Personally, I never did. I mean, everyone's different I guess, but I never liked talking about it. Not that my guardian ever really noticed, there was so many of us, and I was the runt of the litter, they never really paid a whole lot of attention to me to notice anything. Paid off in my favor."

"What?"

"I preferred my inner arm, high enough that it's hidden under the sleeve, low enough that it doesn't burn when you bend your arm."

"Sablo, what are you talking about?"

"I mean, it only hurts for a minute, and then it goes away. They're just lines, or at least mine were only lines, nothing too big and bad. I don't know about her."

"Sablo," Nisroc's hand pauses, fingers spread in his curls, and they exchanged concerned looks over the unknowing elect. "Did you harm yourself?"

He shrugs, turning another page in his book. "I don't really anymore, I used to everyday though, but things have gotten better so I don't need to anymore." He turns another page. "No sweat though. It's not important."

Puriel frowns, leaning forward, he curls his fingers around the top of the book and lifts it from the young elects hands. "Sablo."

"Hey!" He pulls it back when the younger angel reaches out for it. "I was reading that!"

"Yes," Titus takes the book from the medic, keeping it far from his reach, when he nearly snatches it back. "And now, we're talking."

"There's nothing to talk about though!"

Nisroc frowns softly. "Sab, for as long as I've known you, I've never seen you wear your sleeves rolled up."

That seems to rock the young elect from his reverie, and he looks down to his arms in surprise, it had been a hot day, before the sun had begun to set and it had started to cool down, he'd just forgotten to roll his sleeves back down as the matter had slipped his mind.

"Yes, Sablo, I could say the same." Titus tilts his head as he leans forward. "Why would that be?"

"No reason." He reaches down to roll his sleeve back down, when fingers curl around his wrist, pulling his arm up and his hand away. "What are you—"

"Can I see?" Puriel pulls his hand closer, frowning as he turns his arm over, looking down at the underside. Just where he had said, his frown deepens as he rubs his fingers over the raised scars, Nisroc frowns with him, lifting his other arm with his free hand, for him to examine the inner arm there as well. Titus peers over the medic's shoulder for a look of his own and Abraxos peers over his Captain's.

"Sablo," they look down at him, his face red, eyes closed. "Why?"

He sighs in resignation, they've seen, there's no use avoiding it now. "It was lonely." They frown in concern down at him, he can feel it, even if he can't see it. "My guardian didn't really care about me, the others were so much better then I was, so I was left alone most of the time."

"Did they know?"

The youngest Power nods slightly. "They'd get mad and patch me up."

"They got _mad_." Puriel sounds miffed. "You were harming yourself, and they got _mad_ at you for it, did they even try to figure out why?"

"No, not really, they'd act all concerned when others were around, but then I'd disappear from their minds when we were alone again."

"That's more then neglectful." Abraxos looks up to his older brother, Nisroc's frowning in disgust, he's rather fond of their young elect. "That's practically abuse."

Nisroc nods in agreement, and looks down to the young elect, brushing his curls back. "Sab, can you look at me?" He turns his head in his direction. "Open your eyes, Sab." His bright eyes blink open. "You don't have those feelings still, do you?"

He shakes his head. "No. I like it here. You guys are nice. And I'm more then just a passing thought."

"Damn right." Titus nods firmly, leaning over to press his lips to the scars littered on his forearm, he pulls away and Puriel rubs his arm, as though rubbing the affection in. "We take good care of our own."

"You'd tell us if you ever had the urge again, right?" Sablo averts his eyes, his Captain won't accept that as a response, and taps his nose to gain his attention back. "Sablo, please?"

"I guess, I mean, it's not really a problem."

"It is though, little brother, it's a big problem." He strokes his curls back. "I don't want to see you hurt, you mean a lot to me, please tell one of us if you ever feel like that again."

He smiles slightly, it feels good that someone cares about him like that. "Okay, Nis."


	103. Saved By The Captain

"No one here to save you this time." He stretches over the captive Elect's legs, smiling at his anticipatory giggles, he knows what's about to happen. Sablo shakes his head frantically, a smile splitting across his face already, giggles pouring from him like water down a stream as the Power thoroughly traps him under his body, there's no chance of escaping what's about to happen. "It's just you, me, and my adorably ticklish little belly." Sablo's giggles increase when he tugs his tunic up, uncovering his giggly shaking belly, and he raises a wiggling finger, hovering just over his belly. "My ticklish little belly that I can play with for as long as I want, the others are away for the day, and you're at my complete mercy." The wiggling finger lowers slowly and his giggles grow harder, turning into soft laughter, watching the wiggling finger with wide attentive eyes. "I'm going to tickle torture this belly as much as I want to, it's going to get the tickle torture of it's life, are you ready for it?"

Sablo shakes his head frantically, laughing brightly as the finger grows closer and closer, he knows firsthand how torturous Puriel is. He remembers last time all to well, and the time after that, and after that, his belly gets tickled more then it doesn't. Puriel likes playing with his belly.

"It's coming to get you." He stops his finger just above his belly button, and the young Elect shrieks brightly, even though nothing happens yet, it causes the Power to chuckle at him. "It's going to tickle, isn't it?" He wiggles his finger again. "It's going to tickle your little ticklish belly, isn't it?" He finally pokes his finger into his belly button, and the young Elect shrieks again, brighter and louder then the first one, twitching his hips from side to side, laughing brightly as he twists his finger and wiggles it against his belly button, Sablo kicks his legs and shakes his head from side to side laughing like a madman. It's only one finger and it's driving him crazy. It only takes one finger to bring him down. Puriel is going to kill him. He's going to die from laughter today. His belly tingles just thinking about what's to come.

"Is this all it really takes?" He moves his wiggling finger from his belly button to the side of his belly, wiggling in there now, and the younger angel jolts at the sudden change, shrieking with mad laughter. "One finger and you're already a mess." He stops his wiggling finger and holds up his other hand, one finger raised. "But what about two?" He wiggles both fingers on either side of his belly button and the young angel shrieks brightly, cackling as he jolts and arches his back, batting at his hands as much as he can, it causes no deterrence. "I barely have to touch this little belly and you lose it." He brings his two wiggling fingers down to wiggle under his belly button and the Elect shrieks again, arching his back, squirming from side to side. "We're getting all warmed up for the real tummy tickle torture, aren't we?"

Sablo squeals when five fingers wiggle softly over the right side of his belly, laughing boisterously batting at the fingers digging in the side of his belly, drilling his heels against the mattress of the medic's bed. "Just a bit more and then we'll really begin." He wiggles five fingers in on the other side and he shrieks again, throwing his arms out in ticklish agony. Fingers wiggle under his arms, and he jumps in surprise, squealing brightly. "Oh, your little armpits want some attention too?" He shakes his head, kicking wildly, as much as he can with the Power trapping his legs. "Bahahaheheheahhahaha noohhohahoahaohaoooo!"

"Oh, you can talk, I thought I'd broken you already." The fingers return to his belly, tapping rhythmically against the sensitive giggly skin. "And we're barely just getting started. That was just a warm up, now we get to the nitty gritty, you're about to have the most tickly tickle torture of your life."

Sablo shrieks at the thought of it, shaking his head frantically, he knows what comes with that, he knows all too well. Puri's going to ruin him, he's going to die, this is the day he dies from laughter.

Puriel smiles down at him, poking around his belly playfully, he giggles brightly, high pitched, fledglinglike giggles, it's heartwarming. He jolts and jumps with every poke. "And, thus begins the tickle torture." Ten fingers dig into his lower belly, and he screams with laughter, throwing his head back with bright boisterous laughter. They spider all over, leaving no spot untouched, and he squirms from side to side frantically, trying to wiggle the fingers away, they only dig in harder and he snorts, shrieking brightly. "Hahahahahahaaeahahaeahaha! Stototoohohohahahahiaaop! Nohohoaoahahahoahoaoo!" He laughs at the expense of the young angel's, pulling his fingers back, wiggling them up above him playfully.

Sablo catches his breath, or struggles to, what with the ceaseless giggles pouring from his lips, watching the wiggling fingers with wide bright eyes. "Dohohon't!"

"Don't what?"

"Tihihickle mehehe!"

"Tickle you?" The fingers drop into his belly, wiggling in again, spidering over the smooth sensitive skin. "If you want me to."

Sablo shrieks with laughter, shaking his head again. "NOhohohohosoaoaoaoahaho! NO! Tihihiiichles! TICKLES!"

"It tickles?" Ten fingers spider over to his left side, wiggling up and down, and he twists, managing to only twist up onto his right side, leaving the left open for tickles, his plan backfired on him. Ten fingers wiggle in, one at the top and one at the side, a finger manages to worm its way under his arm and he arches his back, even up on his side, squealing again, kicking his legs under them. "Does it tickle here too?"

Puriel chuckles softly, pulling the young Elects arm back slightly, and digs more fingers under his arm. "I personally prefer my belly, but these little armpits need attention too, we can't leave them untouched." He curls his fingers around his left side and turns him back over onto his back. "There's my belly." Clawing his right hand over his belly, the young Elect shrieks once more, pressing his head back into the pillow under him. "But we got the left, we can't forget the right." Ten fingers move over to his right side, spidering up and down in a tickly dance, Sablo twists back up, up onto his left side, he hates how his plans always backfire on him. They preform a tickly dance up and down his side, fingers curl around his wrist and pull his arm aside, allowing him to wiggle some fingers under his right arm, digging into his armpit mercilessly. He tugs desperately at his arm, he figures he can't fight him off, the least he can do is try and protect himself as much as he can. He tugs him back around and crosses his hands over his belly, wiggling a finger into his lower belly lightly. "I need my belly back now." He smiles down at him. "Do you want some berries?"

His eyes widen, not those, those are horrible, he's had a number of raspberries since he'd first moved up here and thus far, _his_ are the worst. "No! NO! I don't! I don't want any berries! No, thank you! Pass!"

"Oh, I want to give you some berries, they're on me."

"NO! No! Nohoho! Get away!" His laughter picks up as the Power takes a deep breath, puffing his cheeks up, and looms over his belly, he presses his hands to the Power's face and tries to push him away, laughing harder as his head slowly lowers. "Nohohot thooahahahahose! NOT THOSE! Get away! Gehehehehahaheheet awahahahaway!" He squeals brightly when his face presses against his belly, laughing like a madman even as he just sits there, he knows he's just letting him stew in it, building up the anticipation for a moment.

And then he blows his monstrous raspberry, shaking his head, blowing it over his belly button. And he squeals again, brighter than the first time, louder. "IEIEIEIIAHHAHAHAHAHEHAHAEHEHEHAHA!" He shakes his head frantically from side to side, arching his back, shrieking as arms wind under him, curling around his waist, fingers poking into his sides on both sides. Puri sits up, taking another deep breath, tilting his head to the side slightly, over the side of his belly, and Sablo shrieks. "Not again! Nohohoahahahaot agahahahaiaahahain! Stay away! STAY AWAYIEIEEIEEEHAHAHAHHEHAHEHEHAHA!" His protest is cut off with another monstrous raspberry blown against the side of his belly. "BAHAHAHEHEHAHAHA! NO MORE! NOOO MOOORE!"

"Oh, we've got more coming." He takes another deep breath and leans over to the other side of his belly, Sablo laughs feverishly, pushing against his head desperately. "Stay away! NO! No, no, no! Not another! Stahahahahaay awahahahaay!" His attempts are in vain, as his lips press against the other side of his belly, and blow their vicious raspberry again. Sablo squeals loudly, kicking his legs wildly, arching his back again. "IEIEIEIEEHAHAHAHAHEHEHHEHEAHAA! NOOOO! STOOOP! IEEIEIAHHAHAHA!" He blows a raspberry again, softer than the first one, and then he pulls back again, there's a pattern that never changes, it's worse if he sees him take his breath. "PURI NO! BAD! No! Nononono! STAY AWAY! Not again! Nohohot agahahahaiihihiain!" Lips press against his lower belly and rest there, he rubs his nose in and it causes him to shriek brightly, then he presses in deep and lets his raspberry go. Sablo squeals wildly, squirming like a worm on a hook as those fingers dig back into his sides, drilling his heels into the bed. "IEIEIEEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NOEEEIEIEIEHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHHAHAHA! STOP! STOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAAOAOAOP! IEEEEHHAHAHEHEHAHA! PUHUHHAHAHAHURIIEIEEEEAHAHAHAEHA!" Sablo squeals with every little raspberry that's blown over the surface of his belly. Every one sends tickly vibrations echoing through his belly, bouncing off of every nerve, as his cackles fall silent.

Puriel pulls back after that, if only for a minute, letting him catch his breath. He unwinds his arms from under him and rests on his elbows, as Sablo's chest heaves for air, giggling breathlessly up at him. "This would typically be the time Nis would come in to rescue his _favorite_ little elect, but he's not here, is he, it's just you and me, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to make assumptions, _little_ brother."

Sablo breaths a deep, giggly sigh of relief, looking over the medics shoulder to his savior. Long warm fingers curl around the medics middle and pull him around, tugging him over onto his back, next to the tortured little Elect, and Puriel smiles up at his older brother. "Hey, Nis, uummm, what are you doing here?"

"Well, my lessons ended early today and I thought to myself, let me go check on my little Elect, and imagine my surprise when I come to stand in the Lounge and hear those bright squeals echoing down the hall, so I thought I'd come to check things out." He smiles down at the medic. "Have you been abusing my favorite little Elect again?

"No. Not at all."

"My little Sab," he turns to the winded youngster curled up next to them. "Did he tickle torture you again?"

Sablo giggles tiredly, nodding languidly, and Nisroc turns back to the medic under him. Puriel smiles up at him. "Maybe?"

"Right, let me remind you what happens when you torture my favorite little Elect." He curls his fingers around the medic's wrists, pulling them up over his head, using one of his hands to keep them there, he holds a finger up over his left underarm. "Are you ready for a taste of your own medicine?"

"Nihihis! I'm sohohorry!"

"Not yet, your not, but you will be."

By the time he lets the medic go, his laughter has fallen silent, and tears sparkle in his eyes. Somehow, unbeknownst to his older brothers, Sablo had managed to fall asleep next to them on the bed. Nisroc smiles at him as he stands from over his younger brother's waist, stepping around the bed, he twists the young elect around, pulling him softly into his arms and lifts him from the medic's bed.

He winks down at his younger brother. "You take a nap, Puri."

The medic nods slightly crawling under his blankets and curling up on his side, nodding off silently.

Shaking his head fondly, he turns out the door, carrying the young Elect with him. Abraxos comes up behind them, Abraxas riding on his back, her chin resting on his shoulder. The Power takes one look at their sleeping little Elect and then peeks in on their sleeping medic. "Puri get too big for his britches again."

"He's lucky I'm fond of him." They share an amused smile and turn down the hall. Nisroc smiles over his shoulder to their baby girl, she returns his smile, resting her chin back on her older brother's shoulder. "What are you two up to?"

"We're going to go take a nap."

"But I don't want to nap!" Abraxos turns his head slightly, kissing their baby sister on the cheek lightly, she huffs but leans her head against his neck. "Like I said, we're going to take a nap."

"But, Abe-"

"We're going to cuddle together and take a nap, Aba."

"Okay, Abe."

Nisroc chuckles softly, stopping at the younger Power's room momentarily, leaning over to press a kiss to their baby sister's cheek. "Have a nice nap, baby bear."

"You too, Grizzly."

They turn away from each other, the Power Captain continuing down the hall, Abraxos and Abraxas turning into his room, the door cracks closed behind them.

He could drop his little Elect off in his room, but he himself is feeling up for a nap, after a hard day of lessons, and he knows for a fact that Sablo likes to cuddle when he's sleepy like this.

They'll nap together.


	104. Attack Of The Tickle Beast

"Now, where did we leave off, after so rudely being interrupted," Sablo shakes his head, already smiling that wide smile, eyes wide as he stares up at the Power that takes enjoyment in torturing him. "Oh, I remember, berries, we were having some berries."

He takes a deep breath, puffing his cheeks up once more, and Sablo shrieks at what's about to come, shaking his head, bracing his hands against the Power's head, trying to hold him off as much as he can. "No! No, no, no! No berries! Not those! Stay away!" He sucks in his belly, hard to do with the giggles collecting there, as it shakes as the giggles start to break free. He shrieks, jumping lightly when the Power overwhelms his attempts to keep him away from his belly, his head slowly lowers, and his giggling picks up in quantity. "No! NO! Not those! Not those! Stay away! Stay away! Not berries! No berries!"

The Power wiggles his fingers into the sides of his belly and his hands shoot down to them, leaving him open to surge down and bury his face into his belly, over his belly button, Sablo shrieks as he sits there, tensing in anticipation, he knows what's about to come, he knows how bad its going to be, berries are the worst. He blows softly against his belly button and he squeals softly. "Ahababaahahahabahaa!" Then he pauses, the laughter dying into rapid giggles, a small precursor for what's about to come, and then he lets the berry go, full force, a vicious raspberry against his belly button, and this time he squeals loudly. "IEIEIEEHAHAHAHAHEHHAHAHAA!" Pushing as much as he can against the medic's head, trying as hard as he might to push him off, especially when he takes another big breath, berries over his belly button are the worst, they tickle like nothing else. "NOOOEIIIEEIEEEEIEIEIEIEIAHAHAHAHA! NOT THE BUTTON! NOT THERE! PLEHEHEHEAHAHAHAEASE!"

"Oh, this cute little button is going to get a few berries, it's so cute, I can't not give it berries." Puri takes another big breath and presses his lips over his belly button, blowing out slowly, it drives the young Elect crazy. He drills his heels into the bed under them, shaking his head frantically, pushing against the Power's head before he can really give him the berry. "Aahahahaha no! NO! Not the button! NOT THE BUTTON! Get away from there! Get away! Aahahahabaahahahaha! Get away! No! NO! Not there! ANYWHERE BUT THERE!" Then he blows harder, blowing the vicious berry in, and he squeals, curling his fingers in the Power's hair, still pushing at his head desperately. "IIEIEEIEIEIEHEHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA! PLEASE! PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAEASE!"

"This is my little giggle button, on my little belly, I'm going to give it as many berries as I want." He looks up to the little Elect, giggling down at him, fingers still buried in his hair. "I'm going to tickle torture you until your just a pile of goo, and then we'll cuddle up together and take a nap, because I know you'll be sleepy. But first, first you get the tickly torture, the most tickly torture you've ever had. Nis is away on a mission, so it's just you and me, and all the tickles and berries I can give to this little belly right here." He looks back down at his belly. "Don't worry, I'll give you little breaks, I'm not a cruel tickle monster." Chuckling lightly, he pokes a finger into his little giggle button, the little Elect laughs brightly, squirming side to side as the finger wiggles in his belly button, also known as his giggle button. "Let's give this little giggle button a few more berries." He pulls his finger back and takes another deep breath.

Sablo curls his fingers in his hair even more, laughing like crazy, shaking his head frantically. "Not there! NOT THERE! NO! No, no, no! Not the button, not there, please!" His head slowly starts to lower and he shrieks, desperately trying to push the head away, drilling his heels in the bed under him in anticipation. "PLEASE! Please! Puri! Mercy! Not there! It tickles! It tickles so bad! Please!" He hovers over his belly button, blowing his mouthful of air out over the belly button, it's not a berry, he's just blowing some air over his belly button, but he still squeals, kicking his feet against the bed, arching his back. Fingers curls around his sides, keeping him from squirming too much, and he takes another deep breath as he rushes down, burying his face into his belly, right over his belly button, and blows a monstrous berry over it. "EIEIHAHAHAHAHEHEHAHA! NOT THEEHEHEHAHAHAERE! P—PLEHEHEHAHHAHAHHEASE!" He takes another breath and blows another berry, without pulling away, and the young angel squeals again, shaking his head from side to side, pushing with all his might against his head. "HAHAHEHEHEEIEIEIEIEHAIIIAHAHA!" The Power tilts his head slightly, rubbing his nose over the Elect's belly button, and he shrieks with laughter, sucking in his belly as best as he can, and the Power chuckles at it. "Let's make this interesting, every time you suck in your belly, you get a berry over your giggle button." He peers up at him over his belly at him. "Do you need me to show you what will happen?"

"No! No! I understand! I get it! You don't need to show me!"

"I feel like I should."

"No! NO! GET AWAY! NOHOHO! EEIAIIAHAHAHAHEHEHAHAHA!"

"Do I need to show you again?"

Sablo shakes his head frantically, breathing feverishly, his chest heaving for a breath, and thus comes his first break. Puriel rests against his elbows, smiling down at him, reaching forward to brush his curls back gently. "Look at you, you're just a mess." Despite his precarious predicament, he leans into the gently stroking of fingers running through his curls, sighing softly in content, he likes having his curls played with, it's soothing. "You're adorable. One of the cutest little Elects we've ever had, and we've had a few, unfortunately most didn't make the cut, but I have faith that you will. Nis and Michael are talking dates for the ceremony, there are things that need to be worked around, but congratulations, you've made it in. You'll go from a baby Elect to a baby Power, it'll change nothing, we'll still give you just as many tickles as you get now." He strokes his curls back still, the little angel leaning into his fingers, scratching lightly at his scalp. "Tus was a cute little Elect too, he's too quiet though, you should have heard him when me and Nis got our claws into him. We still do sometimes, he's just so busy now, it's a time that's hard to come by these days. Now we sit back and watch him as he dishes out the tortures we taught him to his little guards." He tilts his head slightly. "Have you met Tus yet?"

"No," Sablo shakes his head softly. "Is he nice?"

"He's a sweetie. I've never known him to _not_ like one of our little Elects. I know he'll love you, it must be impossible to not love you," he rubs his thumb over his cheek. "You're just so cute. You're like a fledgling, you still have that little roll of baby fat, those dimples, they'll never go away, and your bouncing dark curls, you're like a little fledgling still and we're tickle monsters when it comes to fledglings. Ask Aba, she'll tell you all about it, and I have no doubt that the little sneak will teach you to escape too."

He still strokes his thumb over his cheek, and it's a comforting feeling, he leans into the touch, though his belly still tingles softly because he knows it's not over yet, he knows its still coming, after this small break is over, his belly is going to be tickle tortured again. "You know I love you, right, I know about your other brothers. We all see the looks they send your way when were together on the Training Field, we try to block them from you, but we know you see them. All they'll ever be is foot soldiers, but you, you're going to be a _Power_." The medic leans forward to kiss his cheek softly. "You have a new family now, we're your family, Nis has practically taken you as another one of his little charges, unofficially of course, he can't actually take you as a charge because you're too old now, but he would if he could, he's _that_ fond of you. We're all fond of you, even the ones you don't know yet, but not quite as much as Nis is, he _adores_ you. Abe might have picked you, but your _Nis's_ Elect, we all know that." He pulls back down, resting on his right elbow, as he strokes a finger down the bridge of the small angel's nose, poking the tip lightly when he gets there. "So, you need to now that we love you, dearly, you're our little angel, our little Elect and soon to be our little Power. You didn't get to have the fledglinghood you should have, ignored and neglected by your guardian, overshadowed by your brothers, they'd eat their ways if they saw you now. We would never do that to you, even if we weren't as fond of you as we are, no one deserves that treatment, well, almost no one, I can think of a few who deserve isolation. Soon enough, you'll have a squadron of your own, after a while, there are still things you have to learn, but you'll lead a squadron of your own after you learn all there is to learn, who knows, maybe we'll even place your older brothers in yours, you can order them about like they had you when you were younger."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Puri," he looks down softly, and the Power lifts his head with a finger under his chin. "They'd never listen to me."

"And, we'd just whip them into shape. Don't let them make you think so lowly of yourself, you deserve to be noticed, you deserve the position you were chosen for. You're going to make a wonderful Power, and we don't say that about just anyone, and we can't wait to see what you become, because it's going to be something to witness."

"I really like it here," Sablo gives him a small smile. "You're all so nice to me. You always have time for me when I need you. You don't pretend I don't exist."

"And, we never will. You exist here. We know you're here. We'll always have time for you. Even the others, once you meet them, will be the same way. Who knows, you may meet one of them sooner rather then later, I'm sorry its taken so long, we're just very busy angels, so the time we do get to spend with those we love is time that we cherish."

"I know you guys are busy, I like to watch you guys going about your duties," he blushes lightly at his admission, but the medic only smiles. "So it makes me feel special that despite all that you have to do in a day, that if I say that I need help or that I need you, you always make time for me."

"You _are_ special, Sablo, don't ever think you aren't." He pokes his nose lightly, pulling his arm back, crossing his hands over his lower belly, he rests his chin over top of his hands. "Now, back to our tummy torture session, that's been enough of a break. Remember, you suck in your belly, you get a giggle button berry." He smiles at him, that smile means he's going to be squealing soon, and he giggles anticipatory giggles at the sight of it. "Do you need me to remind you about the giggle button berries?"

Sablo shakes his head quickly, giggling frantically, shrieking when his head dips towards his belly. "No! No! I know! I know about the button berries! No! No! Get away! Get away!" The Power smirks up at him. "I think I need to show you." Sablo shrieks when his head dips again, trying to wiggle to the side away from him, but a finger wiggles in his side and he hops back into prime position. "NO! No! Stay away! Leave it alone! NO!" His fingers curl back in the Powers hair when he takes a deep breath, making a show of it, puffing his cheeks back up, looking down at his belly as he slowly lowers his head. Sablo shrieks when he dips down suddenly, sucking his belly in desperately, the medic chuckles softly. "Now, that's two button berries." He retakes his breath, not inhibited by the fingers curled in his hair or the hands pushing at his head. "NO! NO! No, no, no! GET AWAAAIEIIEEIIEIAIAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!" The young angel squeals brightly when he finally presses his face to his belly and blows his vicious berry over his belly button, bright laughter filling the empty space around them in the medic's room, he calls out for someone to save him, calling for help, but the door remains closed. "EEEEEEAAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!" He arches his back into it when another berry is blow in his button, sending vibrating tingles over his belly, as he cackles loudly and brightly, pushing against his head as hard as he can.

He looks back up at him. "Do you need me to show you again?"

"No! NO! I get it! I UNDERSTAND! NO! NO MORE! EEEEIEIIAHAHAHAHAHA! STOOAHAHAHAOHOHOHOP! NO MORE! NO MORE BUTTON BERRIES!"

"No more, I like the button berries," he presses a kiss over his giggle button and the young angel shrieks and jolts. "They get the best reaction. Anything with your giggle button gets the best reaction, that's why I call it your giggle button." He circles his finger around his belly button, slowly, the soft touches send tingles through him. "But, okay, I'll leave the button berries for now, we'll come back to them, I love them too much not to. There's other ways for me to torture you, I'm very skilled at what I do, I was taught by the best, your tummy is still going to get a tickly tickle torture." He dips his finger into his belly button and wiggles it around, Sablo shrieks and squeals, bucking his hips and arching his back, drilling his heels in the bed he lays trapped on. "I can always just push my giggle button instead. Push and Push and Push. On and off, again and again and again." He stops his wiggling finger and the younger angel's boisterous laughter dies down into boisterous giggles. "Off." He waits a moment, building up the anticipatory giggles in his belly, and then he wiggles his finger again and the little angel shrieks again, giggles picking up into boisterous laughter again. "On." Sablo squirms hard, side to side, arching his back, as he tries to get the finger out of his belly button, cackling all the while, but the finger stays, wiggling in deeply and viciously, driving the young angel crazy. "Oh, I love my giggle button."

He moves down his belly, wiggling his forefingers into his lower belly, and the young angel shrieks at the sudden change, squirming again, reaching down with his hands to try and block his access to his belly, it doesn't work, it just gains him more fingers, and he shrieks again, arching his back at the tickly sensation, those fingers spread to the sides of his belly, wiggling fast and vicious, and he screams with laughter, jumping slightly where he lies. "Did you just try and hide my tickle tickle belly from me?" The young elect shakes his head frantically, throwing his head back with laughter when he claws his fingers into his belly and shakes his hand, pulling his hands back quickly as those cruel fingers attack his belly. It's only against him that his belly is just so ticklish, his entire belly, any spot will drive him crazy, something the medic knows all too well. "You didn't?" Fingers move down to wiggle on either side of his belly button and he shrieks again, arching his back, kicking his legs out before drilling them into the bed under them. "That's good, because then I'd have to punish you."

"I dihihhahahahiiidn't! I prohohoohahahaohaohahaomise! I swehehehehahahahahear!"

"You promise, do you?" Ten fingers wiggle into the left side of his belly, and he leans to the right as much as he can, wishing he could suck in his belly, but he doesn't want another button berry, those are the worst, but when he drills his thumbs into the spots just next to his belly button, he shrieks loudly, "AAAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHAHAHA!" and sucks his belly in as much as he can. His eyes widen when he realizes what he's done, and the Power smiles down at him, fingers curling around his sides to keep him in place. "That's a button berry right there, you sucked your tummy in, your punishment is one button berry."

"NO! NO! I'M SORRY! I WON'T DO IT AGAHAHAHAAIN! IT WON'T HAHAHAHAAPPEN AAHAHAAGAIAHAHAHAIN!"

"I'm sorry, but you broke the rules, breaking the rules comes with consequences." He leans over his belly. "One button berry coming up."

"NO! NONONO! NOT THAT! NOHOHOHOAHAAHHOT THAHAHAHAHAAT! STAY AWAY! GEHEHAHAHAHEHEHET AWAHAHAHHAY! NOOOEEEIEIEIAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHA!" He squeals brightly as the berry is blown over his belly button, pushing against the Power's head as much as he can, his eyes widening when he hears him take another deep breath. "NO! NO! I ONLY DID IT ONCE! ONOHOHOAAHAHAAONLY OHOHOHAHAHAHAHOAOHAONCE!" He doesn't get a response, a face just presses over his belly button again, and he blows out a sharp vicious berry. Sablo arches his back again and screams with laughter. "EIEIEIHAHAHIAIAHAHAIAHAHAHEHEHAHAHAHA! PLE—PLEASE! ONLY ONCE! I OOHOHAOHOHAHAHAONLY DIHIHDHAHAHAHHID IT OHOHONCEEIEEAHAHAAHONCEEIEIEIEIAIAHAAHAHAHA!" Puri takes another deep breath and he squeals, nothing happens, but he squeals. "IHIHIHIITS NOHOHAHAHAAHOT FAHAHAHIHAHAHAIREEIEIAIAHAHAHAHA!"

He chuckles softly, sitting back up, wiggling his fingers back into his shaking belly, this time he fights the urge to suck in his belly with all he's worth. "Life isn't fair. I can't help it. Button berries are my favorite. I love them so much."

Sitting back again, he rests his hands over his shaking belly, smiling up at him that same smile that means tickles are about to come. "What should I do to you now?" he wiggles his index finger into the skin just under his belly button and he giggles harder. "There's no one here to save you, you're all mine now, to do as I please with. Your tickly tickle torture is far from over, but there's so many choices, I don't know what to pick." He pauses his wiggling finger. "I could give those toes some nibble and kisses, that always drives you mad with laughter, I could give those toes some attention." He giggles harder at the thought of it, curling his toes up tightly, as if he's going to turn around and go after them. "I could give your little neck some nibbles and berries, that drives you crazy as well." He scrunches his shoulders up quickly to protect himself. "I could give those sides a good tickle, some berries, scurrying fingers." The medic wiggles his fingers up his sides, and he shrieks, squirming wildly from side to side. "Or those little armpits, oh those ticklish little armpits, I could give them some wiggling fingers and berries, that drives you nuts as well." He manages to sneak a finger under his clamped arm and wiggles it in, Sablo shrieks, pressing his arm down tighter, only trapping the finger underneath. "I could do all of the above, and you'll just squeal and shriek and scream and laugh and giggle, because you just a ticklish little angel aren't you?" Sablo presses his chin to his chest and nods, shrieking again when the finger begins to wiggle under his arm once more. "But, where to start, it all sounds so exciting, what do you think, where should we go next?"

"I thiihihihiink yohohhhaahhahaou shohhoohohoahahahahahould leheheahahahahet meheheehe gohohohahahahahooahao!"

"Now, I don't think that was one of the options." He wiggles his fingers down his sides quickly, the younger angel shrieks and jolts. "Now, I could start at the top," he wiggles his fingers back up his sides and he jolts again, shrieking brightly, squirming side to side. "Or, I could start at the bottom." He wiggles his fingers back down, and Sablo shrieks and squeaks, twisting like a worm on a hook. "But I'm not leaving any spot untickled, it's all getting some attention, but where to start." He wiggles his fingers back up his sides, Sablo shrieks again, curling his fingers around his wrists as his fingers wiggling over his higher ribs. "I think I'll start at the top." He pulls his fingers away and stretches out over top of the little Elect. He shakes his head and scrunches his shoulders up tightly, blocking the access to his neck, he'll fight back as much as he can in this precarious position. A warm chuckle rumbles next to his ear. "Let me in, little guy, it's going to happen." Sablo shakes his head again, between his shoulders, giggling breathy giggles, he's not moving his shoulders for the life of him. "Open up, I'm coming in one way or another, make this easier on yourself." He shakes his head again, looking to the side with his bright bubbly eyes, staring at the torturous Power silently, save for his giggling. He shrieks when a finger worms it's way under his arm and wiggles in, throwing his arms back down to protect that spot, he opens his neck up, by the time he realizes his mistake, there's a face burrowing into his neck. The light stubble on the medic's face rubs tickly against his neck, he shrieks when teeth nibble at the side of his neck, shaking his head, tilting his head over to the side as much as he can, shrieking again when the Power growls lightly and shakes his head, nibbling at his neck again. "BAAHHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHA! STOP! STOOHHAHAHAHAOP! IT TIHIHIHAHAHAHICKLES! IT TICKLES!"

"I know it does, you little giggle monster, I'm going to give this neck some good nibbles and berries."

"NO! Nononono! NOOAHAHAHAHOAOAOHAHA! NO! NOHOHAOAOAHSSHSHHSSH! NO NIHIHIIAHHAHAHIAIBBLES! NOHOOAHAHAHO BEHEHEAHAHAHEERRIES!" He shrieks and squeals when he nibbles his neck playfully, rubbing the stubble on his chin into his ticklish little neck, and then he takes a deep breath and blows his first berry. Sablo screams, it echoes in his ear slightly, scrunching his shoulder up as much as he can with someone buried in his neck. "EIEIIAHAHAHAHAHEEEIAIAIAHAHHAHAHA!" He tilts his head away from him as much as he can, arching to the side, and jumps back around when fingers reach down to wiggle into his sides. "Come back here you, I'm not quite done yet." He jumps back into place and another berry is blown against the side of his neck. "NOOOEEEIEIEHIHAIHAHAHAHAA! NONO! NOT AGAIN!" He takes another deep breath. "NOHOAHHAHAHAHAHAHAEEIIAIAHAHAHA!" He pulls away and the shoulders immediately scrunch back up again, protecting his neck again, and he giggles wildly at the remaining tingles running over the side of his neck. "We have to get the other side too," he leans over to the other side, to the left and curls his fingers around the shoulder scrunched up there. "Open up, you ticklish little angel, you." Sablo shakes his head frantically, scrunching up tighter, not even the finger wiggling under his arm gets him to unscrunch his shoulders, and it takes all his will power not to throw his arm down like he wants to when that fingers does begin wiggling under his arm again. "You open up, you, or I'm going to pull this shoulder down and give you as many neck berries that I can."

Against his better judgment, he can't handle berries anywhere, and the stubbly face immediately burrows into his neck. He shrieks when he nibbles again, rubbing his stubbly chin over his tickly neck, and takes a deep foreboding breath. "NO! NOT AGAIN! GET OUT, GET OUT! NO BERRIES! NOOOOEEEEIEIEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAH! NOT ANOTHER NOT ANOTHEEEEIAIIAAHAHAHAHAHA! I OPENED UP! I OHOOHAHAHAHOPEEEEIIEEIAHAHAHAHAH! I OPENED UP! NOOOOEEEIEIIAHAHAHAHAAH! AAAHAHAAHAHAHIEIEIEIEEEAHAHAHAA! NO MORE BERRIES! NOHOHOOEIEEEIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHA MORE BERRIES! EEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEEEIEIEIEIEHEHAHAHAHAESE!" "I decided to give this side all the berries." "EEIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHA! MERCIIEIEEEHEAHAHAHAA! TIIEEHEHEHAHAHHEICKLES! SOHEHAHAHEHAHAAOO BAAHAHAIIEEEIEIEHEHEHAHAHAD!"

He's breathless when he finally pulls away, and immediately scrunches his arms back up, just in case of sneak attacks. Puriel smiles down at him, leaning down to brush his nose against the young Elects, his face scrunches up as he does. "I'll give you a short break before we move down. Perhaps that was a bit mean, but I couldn't help myself." His chest heaves for a breath, his neck tingling still, breathless giggles still spill out softly after such a mean attack. Nis is a tickle monster, but Puri was a tickle beast, he was always trying to tickle torture him, normally Nis would save him, but he was away, he was stuck with the medic's nonexistent mercy. "I told you I was going to give you the most tickly tickle torture of your life." A fingers wiggles softly against his ribs and he giggles harder, arching to the side away from the finger, it continues to wiggle but it doesn't follow, he doesn't arch back until a second finger wiggles in on the other side. Once he's sure the little Elect isn't going to die from laughter just yet, he begins anew, reaching to curl the fingers of his left hand around his right wrist, slowly pulling his arm up. "Okay, moving down, time for some armpit tickles." Sablo shakes his head, giggles picking up again, tugging desperately at his captured arm "I'm going to give these little armpits the most tickly tickle torture they've ever had, lots of wiggles and pokes and berries, it's going to drive you crazy from all the tickly tickles."

Sablo wishes he still had his tunic on, it had been wrestled off when he'd been thrown down on the bed for his day of torturous torture, he can't bare berries on his bare armpits, out of all the berries, other then button berries, those are the worst berries, bare armpit berries. Despite his struggle against it, his arm is lifted above his head and trapped there, fingers curled securely, not too tightly, but securely, around his wrist, trapping his arm above his head and opening his underarm for as many tickles as the medic wants to give it. He shrieks and jumps when a finger pokes at his armpit, poking all over, leaving no spot unpoked. The Power settles over top of him, his shoulder rubbing against his chin, looking down at his new tickle spot as he pokes around the ticklish little armpit, basking in the joyous shrieks and giggles echoing around them. "Ahehehehehahahahah! NO! Let go! Lehehehehet gohoho!"

"I don't think so, I _told_ you I was going to give this little armpit a tickly tickle torture, and I don't say things that I don't mean." He stops his poking, settling his finger in the middle of the hollow of the underarm, and rests it there. "Are you ready for the tickles, little guy?" Sablo shakes his head, his chin pressing to the Power's shoulder as he tries to turn his head over there, but he can't see, and that's the worst, he can't see what kind of torture he's going to get and that means he can't prepare for it, it's going to be so bad. Puri is already in a right torturous mood today, as he's been taking out on the poor little Elect, but now he can't see, that's just unfair and the worst. The finger wiggles in deeply, and he shrieks, laughter bubbling up from his belly and filling in the space the giggles had been filling just moments before. "Aahahahahahehehehehahahaha! NO! Ahehehahahahahehehaha! Get it out! GET IT OUT!" The only thing that happens is another finger joining the first. "AHEHEHEHAHAHAHA! Bahahehehahahheahhaha! Not there! Nohoohahahahaot thehehehehahahhaaeheere!" The fingers spread slightly and he jolts, tugging at his arm again, pressing his cheek against the Power's shoulder as he tries to turn over again. The second finger disappears and the first circles around his armpit, away from the hollow, up to the edge, and then it slowly circles back down, all the while the younger angel is cracking up, drilling his heels into the bed, his fingers flexing in the grasp around his wrist, when the finger returns to wiggle in his hollow again. "Ahehehehehahahahahahahehehe! Bahahehehehahahaha! Not there! Not theehehehahaheheahaheheere!" The finger pulls away and he sucks in gulps of beloved air, his chest heaving wildly, his belly shaking still from the force of his laughter. And, it's then that he hears the forewarning about what's to come next. "Time for some armpit berries."

And, that's the only warning he gets before there's a deep inhale of breath and his stubbly face is pressing to his armpit, blowing out a vicious berry over the sensitive skin that's normally hidden from view. Sablo screams with laughter, tugging desperately at his arm again, scratching wildly at the fingers curled around his wrist, squealing loudly when another berry is blown into the hollow of his armpit. "EIEIEIIEEEEEAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA! NO BERRIES! NO AHAAHAHAHARMPIT BEIIEEEHAAHAHAHHEEEHEERRIES!" He only takes another deep breath and shakes his head, blowing out viciously over his ticklish armpit. "EEIEIIEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHHEHEHAHA! IHHIHIEHEHEHEIIIT TIHIHIHIHEHEEHHICKLES SOHOHOH BABAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAEEEEIIEAAHAHAHAHA! EIEIEIAHAHAHAHA STOOHOHOHOAAHAHAHOP! NOHOHOSAOOAOAHO MOHOHORORE! PLEEIAIAIEEAAAHAHAHAHHAAHAEASE!" He breaths feverishly, his chest heaving, when he finally pulls away, the tingles driving the giggles that continue to pour from his heaving belly. Puriel smiles down at him, he knows that smile, he knows it well, as he switches to the other side, letting him take a moment to catch his breath. "We can't forget the other side. Since I was kind of mean over there, I won't give this one any berries, maybe, I haven't really decided yet, after all, these little armpits deserve all the berries they can get." Sablo's giggles pick up when he feels the single finger circle gently around his armpit, starting at the edge and working it's way down slowly, twirling around and around, it drives him nuts, because he knows what's about to happen when it gets to where it's going. "Ahahahaheheheheahahaha!" The finger gets to it's destination, wiggling furiously into the hollow of his armpit, the giggles pick up into laughter, and he turns, pressing his cheek to the Power's other shoulder. "Ehehhahahahaheehahahaa! Get it out! Nohohooaoaoaoaot thereehehehaahahaere! Get it out! Geehehahahehahet ihihiit ohhohohoaohahahahout!" Another finger joins it, then another, until five fingers are fluttering over his exposed armpit, and he shrieks at the sensation, kicking his feet wildly, tugging at the Power's tunic with his free hand, trying to pull him away. "Ahehehehahahahahaiiiieeeaaaaa! Tihihshshahahahahickles! IT TICKLES!"

"Does it?" His fingers pull away for a moment. "Does this tickle too?" he buries his face into his armpit, pressing little kisses over the hollow, taking a deep breath and blowing a big berry over the sensitive spot. Sablo shakes his head, pressing close against the Power's shoulder, kicking his feet again when he blows another berry. "EIEIEIEIHEEEEHAHAHAHHAHA! AAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHA! YOU SAID NO BERRIES! YOHOHOHAHAHAHOU SAHAHAHIHIHIHIHIAID NOHOHOAHAHAHOO BERRIEEEEEEHAHAHAHAHAHEEIES!" "I lied." "AHAHAHHIEIEEIEEEEIAIAAHAHAHAHA! NO MORE! NOHOHEIEIEIEEEHHAHAHAA! YOHOHOOOOOOU SAIAHAHAHAIAIAIAIEHEHEHHAID NOHOHOOIIEEEEIAIHAHAHAHA BERRIES!" "I just told you I lied, I'm not going to pass up giving these tickly little armpits berries." "HABABAHAHEHEHEHEIEEIEAAHAHAHA! NOHOHOEEEEIAIAIAHAHAHAHA! NO BERRIES! NOHOHOSHEIEIEIEIHSHSHAHAHAHAA BEEHEHEHAHAHAHAHERRIES!"

He pulls away from the armpit, and he thinks he's done, but five fluttering fingers reappear again and he shrieks, arching his back, as best as he can with the Power laying over him, tugging on his arm, trying to roll over onto his side to get away, but he can't move, and he just throws his head back in laughter, cackling like a mad man. "Bahaheheheahhahaha nohohoooeohahahah fihihingers! Nohohosshahahahoho fluahahaheehehehheahahutters!" "No berries, no flutters, what about this?" "Ahahahehehehehahaha nohohohahahahaohoho! Thaahahahhthahahhahats wohohohoahahahahhworse! GET IT OUT! Geeheheheheahahahhaaet ihihihit ohohhahahahahout!" The wiggling fingers halts for a moment but doesn't move from where it sits. "Nah." The moment it starts wiggling again the young angel screams. "AHAhahahahahhieeiieiehahahhahaha! Nohohohoahhahaooho nooahahahahahooo! Nohohaohahahaohot theheheheahahahahaheheheheere! Thaahahahahat tihihishehehehahahahaickles!" "It tickles? Do these flutters tickle too?" Five fingers flutter over his armpit again and he squeals, nodding desperately, even though the Power isn't looking to see if he does. "YEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHHEEESSSSS! TIHIHIAHAHAHAHAHICKLES! TIHIHHHHEEEHAHAHAHAHICKLES! NOOHOHOAHAHAHAOHHAHOA MOROHAHAHAHAHOHEHOEHORE FLUHUAHAHAHAUTTERS! NOHOHAHAHAHA MORE!" "That tickles too. What about these berries, do these tickles too?" "NO! NO BERRIES! NOHOHOAHAHAHAHEIEEIEIEEEAHAHAHAHAHA! YEHEHEEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAES IHIHAHIAHEHEHEHAHAHIT TIIHIHIAHEHEHAHAHAHAHICKLES!" "Good, have a few more." "NO! NOHOHOAHAHOAHAO! EEEIEIIHAAHAHAHAHHAA! EIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHAH! HAHAHAHEEEIIAHEHEHAHAA! STOOHOHAHAHEIEIEIAIHAHAHAHAHEOP! NOHOHOAHAHHEIEIEEIHAHAAHA MOHOHAHAHAHAOHORE!"

"Okay, no more berries," He lets go of the wrist he holds captive and digs under both of his armpits, laughing as he squeals, "EIIEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHEHEHAHAHAHA!, and arches his back. "How about some digs, I know how much you like the digs, I like them too." Sablo shakes his head wildly, his curls bouncing around as he bounces lightly under the Power, it tickles so much. Puri is going to kill him today. He's going to die from tickles. "NOHHOHOHOHAHAHAHOAHOAHOOO! THATTAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHHEHATS NOHOHOAHAHAOOT WHAHAHAHEHEHEAHAHAHAT IHIHHIHAHAHAHEHEHEEHII MEHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAENT! GEHEHEAHAHAHHAEET OHOHAOHAHAHAOUT! GEHEHEAHAHAEHEHET THEHEHEAHAHAHEHEM OHOHOHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHOUT!"

Puriel pulls away completely, resting back on his elbows, watching as he laughed like crazy still, his chest heaving, the laughter dying down into hysterical giggles, as he wraps his arms around his chest tightly, protecting his armpits from any sneak attacks, because Puri is known for sneak attacks. But he just lays there, watching him catch his breath, and smiles when their eyes meet. "I forgot how ticklish your little armpits are."

"You're going to kill me!"

"I am not. I'm giving you breaks. I'm being nice."

"That was mean! You were being mean!"

"I was not, I'm being nice, I don't have to give you breaks. Though perhaps I was a bit mean on that armpit there, maybe there was a bit too many berries, I could feel you kicking like a mad man." He rubs at his ear lightly. "You were squealing like a fledgling in my ear."

"You deserved it!"

"Oh," he wiggles a single finger in both of his sides, and he giggles brightly, squirming slightly from side to side, but the fingers follow him wherever he goes. "I deserved to have my eardrum ruptured by a fledglinglike squeal?" Sablo nods and swipes at his fingers, he goes undeterred and drills his fingers into the slight chub on his sides, the younger angel shriek and arches his back. "I was going to let you have a longer break then that, but then you said I _deserved_ having my eardrum blown out, so now your break is over, lets move down to these sides. These are Nis's favorite place, he loves giving these little sides some tickles, oh I've heard those squeals when he rubs his beard into these spots. Let's see what I can do to them, shall we?" He reaches over to spider ten fingers up his right side, and he shrieks, arching to the left, and the fingers jump over to that side, they repeat the process time and time again, until he's laughing brightly and jumping from side to side, it's amusing to the Power. "You know what, I'm going to show how nice I'm being, I won't give these sides any more berries then they need."

"Nohoho beheheherries!"

"Oh no, I can't say that, they need some berries."

"Nohoho thehehehey dohohon't!"

"But they do, they need some berries, it's not right to not get any berries."

"Pleheheheeease!"

"Oh, alright, since you said please, I'll think about it." He holds his one side steady as he spiders his fingers up and down the other side, it drives the little Elect crazy, his laughter picking up, shrieking at the steady torture. "How about spiders, can I do spiders?" He switches sides and laughs softly when he tries to jump away and finds himself trapped by the arm on his other side. Sablo shakes his head again. "Nohoaaoahahahahahoohhoho! Nohhoahahahoahoahoohooo spihihihisiisiiihihiders!"

"It's spiders or berries, for right now, you get to choose which one comes first, because I'm being nice." He spiders his fingers up both of his sides, and then back down, up again, and back down. Sablo jumps from side to side, squirming like crazy, shaking his head frantically, he won't pick either of those, either Puri will trick him and give him the other option, or he'll actually do what he says he would rather have, so he sticks to shaking his head. "If you don't pick in the next ten seconds, I'm going to pick for you, and my first go to is _always_ berries. I _love_ me some berries, they're my _favorite_ treat."

"Nohohoho beeeheheheheheherries! Nohoohohahahaohaoo!"

"Then you have to choose."

"Spihihiihahahahaiahahapiders! SPIDERS!"

"Spiders it is." He spiders ten fingers up his left side, then jumps to his right, back to his left, and on to the right. The little Elect shrieks with every trail of spiders shooting up his sides, rocking from side to side as he tries to evade those spiders tickling up his sides. "These are tickly spiders, aren't they?" He rocks up onto his right side, leaving the left open for all the spiders, fingers curl around his ribs to keep him from falling back over, and the free fingers spider up and down his sides again and again, and he shrieks with laughter, kicking his legs, falling limply against the arm keeping him up on his side, trying to bring enough weight against it to let him down. But Puri's a Power, he's strong, the lightweight of a young Elect resting against his arm isn't going to cause it to give out. "They love tickling little angels, and you're a little angel, they love tickling you." The fingers spider back down his side again, and spider down over his lower belly, as he moves his arm, letting the little angel roll back over again, he cackles as he spiders his fingers around his belly.

"Ahahaahahahahahehehehahahaha nohohoosohahahahhaaot thehehehahahahehee beheheheheelly!" he arches his back, pressing his chin to his chest, squirming from side to side, but the fingers are relentless. "Nohohoahahahaheheheahahahahahohoho!"

"Don't worry, we'll come back to this belly later, the spiders are just working their way over to your other side."

"Nohohoho mohohoaohahahahahoore spihihihiahahahahahiders!"

"No more spiders?" Fingers spider up his right side and he shrieks brightly. "You want some berries instead?"

"Nohohohoahahaohaohaha beheheheeahahahherries! Nohohaohahahahoaoao! Spihihihahahahahiaiahhiders! Spihihahahaiiaiders!"

"You still want some tickly spiders instead of berries?"

Sablo nods frantically, rolling up onto his left side, leaving the right open for tickly spiders. Like the other side, an arm braces him so he can't roll back over and fingers spider rapidly up and down his right side again and again, and he squeals brightly, falling limply against the arm bracing him up again. "Nohohoahahahaohaoo mohohoohoheheheheore spihihihihiehehahahahahiders!" He chuckles softly, letting the young angel fall back over again, spidering his fingers up and down both sides, the little guy squirming side to side like a little worm on a fisher's hook. "No more spiders, does that mean it's time for berries?"

"Nohohohhoahahhahahooo! Nohohhahahaho beheheeheaahahahhaerries!"

"So, does that mean you want more spiders?"

"Nohohohahahahoaahahahaho mohohohahahaoahoahore spihihihieieheheheheahhahahaiders!"

"Okay, then it's time for berries."

"NO! Nohohoho! Noohoho beheheherries! No! NO! NONONO! STAY AWAY! GET AWAY GEEHEHEHEHEET AWAHAHAHEHEHAHEHAHAHAY!"

The Power merely chuckles at his pleads and demands, curling his fingers around the boy's left wrist, pulling his arm away from his side, takes a deep breath, and leans down to press his lips to the young angels bare side. Sablo shrieks, tensing under him in anticipation, giggling harshly as he waits, stewing in it, and then he blows his berry. "EEIIEIEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHA!" Takes another breath. "AHAHAHAHAEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAEIEIIAHAHAHAHAHA!" The long berries are the worst, the ones that seem like they'll never end, those are the bad ones. "EEIEIEIEEHEHEHAHHAHAHHEEHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEHHAHAAHA!" Now he's really torturing him, he said he wouldn't give more then he thought was needed, so he was giving him big long berries to make up for it. "EIEIEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHHIEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHA!" He takes another deep breath, and he shrieks before the lips can even press to his side, arching away from the Power as far as he can go. "Get back here, you, we're not done with our berries yet." He tugs him back over and presses deeply into his side, blowing on the long vicious berry. "EIEIEIIAIAIHAAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEHEHAHAHA!" "One more." "NO! NO MORE! NOOEHEHHOAHAHOAHO! EIEIEHAHAHAHAHEHEHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHHEHEHHA!"

He pulls away after the last one, the super long one, his side still tingles from it, and let's go of his wrist, though it's not for long, the Power curls his fingers around the other, pulling his right arm away as he takes a deep breath and presses into his right side. "EIEIIEEIIEEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!" "More berries for this side now." "NO! NOHOHOAHOHAHAHO MORE! NOHEHEOEHAHAHO BEHEHEHAHHEHEHAHAHERRIES!" "Oh, you're getting berries." "IEIEIEIHEEHEEHHEAAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHA!" Sablo kicks his feet, reaching over with his free hand to try and cover his side from further attacks, but fingers curl around that wrist and pull it back as he blows another long berry. "EEIEIIEIEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHIAIAIIAAHAHAHAHA! NOHOOHSHSHAHAHAHAHO! YOHOHOUUAOAOAOOAHHAHAHAOUR BEHEHEHEING MEEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHENEEIEIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHA! IEIEIEEAAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAH! NOHHOAHOAHAHIAIEIEIEEHAHAHAHAHAHAA!" "How dare you say I'm mean, for that, you get extra berries." "NOOOHEHEHAHAHAHEAHAHAHAIEIEIEHEEHAHHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHHAHAHAHAHI'M SOOHOHOHHOHAHAHHAAHAHORRY! AHAHAHAHAIEIEIEAHHAHAHHAHAHHAA! IHIHIIHI TAHAHAHHEHEHEAKE IIHIHIIT BAHAHAHAHAAEIEIEIIAAAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHHAHA!" "To late, you're getting extra berries, you must be punished now." "EIEIEIEHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAHHAEHEHHHEHEHEHEAHAHAH! IHIHIHIAHAHAHAAAHAI'M SOHOHOOHAHAHAHAHOAOORORRY! EIEIEIEHEEAHEHAHAHAHAEHEHEHEAHAHAHA! IIEIEHEAAHAHAHHAHEHEHEE TAHAHAHEHEEEHEHAHAKE IHIHISIAHHAHAHAHAIIEEIEEIAIAIAHAHAHAHHAIT BAHAHAHHAHAHAEHIEIEIEIHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAAACK!"

He chuckles as he pulls back, the young elects face is beat red, his chest heaving for a breath, breathless giggles spilling over still from the brutal attack. Puriel looks down at his belly with raised eyebrows. "Technically this belly is next, should we get more button berries?"

"NO! NOT BUTTON BERRIES!"

"We'll save best for last then. Let me get those toes first. They could go with a good nibble."

He turns himself around, still laying over his legs, and reaches for his right foot. Sablo giggles behind him and curls his toes up tightly, he's not getting nibbles, no sir, nibbles are bad, nibbles are the worst torture one could do to his toes, he's not making toe nibbles easy for him. Fingers wiggle into his soul, curled around the edges of his foot, and he shrieks brightly. "You uncurl those toes, they need nibbles, you uncurl them little angel." Sablo shakes his head frantically, though the Power can't see, refusing for anything in the world. Fingers wiggle over his sole again. "Ahaahahahahahehehehahahahaha! NO!" But his toes uncurl involuntarily, when he finds a particular sensitive spot on his foot and focuses on it until his toes fan out, and once they have, he holds his foot steady and—"AIEIEIEIEIAIIAAIAHHAHAHAHAHA!" then come the toe nibbles. "Ahahahahahhehehehahahaa nohohoeheheahaha nihihibiaiaiaihibbles!" He nibbles down the line of toes, focusing on the baby toe, because that's one of the worst. Sablo throws his head back in uproarious laughter, kicking his leg as much as he can, the toes of his other foot curl up at the extreme toe torture. Puri pulls his toes forward and press little kisses underneath them, nibbling at the soft skin underneath, it drives him crazy, he pounds his fists against the bed, kicking his free foot out wildly. "IEIEIHAHAHAHEHEHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOOAHAHAHAOOT THEHEHEHEHE TOHOHOAHOHES! NOHOHAHAHOAHOAOOT THEHEHERE!" "Lots of toe nibbles." "AHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHA! DOHOHOAHAHAHOON'T TIHIHIICKLE MAHAHAHHAAMY TOHOHOEHEHEHSHES! AHAHAHAEEEHEHEHEHAHAHAAHA PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAHEASE!" Puriel turns quickly to the other foot, getting his nibbles in before he can curl his toes up and the young angel shrieks again, laughter picking up just as it was before, shaking his head frantically, kicking his newly freed foot wildly next to him. "PLEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEASE! NOHOHOAHAHAAHOAHOOT MAHAHHAHAHAHYMY TOHOHOEHEHEHEHEHOES! BAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHA!" "Not your toes?" "Nohohooahahahahooo!"

Puriel chuckles softly as he turns back around, looming over his belly. "Then, we'll come back to where we started, this precious ticklish little belly." He wiggles his fingers over the shaking belly, and Sablo shrieks in anticipation, sucking in his belly as much as he can. Puriel raises his eyebrows. "Did you just suck in your belly?" It's in that moment that Sablo remembers what happens when he sucks in his belly, and his eyes widen, shaking his head as hands brace around him. "NO! NOT THAT! No! STAY AWAY! I'M SORRY! I FORGOT! IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN! IHIHIHIIT WOHOHOHOAOHAHAHAHAON'T HAHAHAHAHAPPEEHEHEEHEHEN AGAIHIHIHIAHAHAHAHAIN!" The Power takes a deep breath, dramatically puffing up his cheeks, lowering himself over his belly. Fingers curl into his hair again, and he pushes against his head with all his might, not the button berries. Not again. "NOHOHOHOAOOAHAHAHAHAHOT AHAHAHAHAA BUHUHHUAHAHAHAHTTON BEHEHEAHAHAHAHEHERRY!"

Lips press against his belly button, and he squeals, bracing himself for it, it's going to tickle. It's going to tickle so bad.

"EIEIEIEIHAIHAHAHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAIIAHAHAHEHEEHHAHAA! NO! NO! NOT ANOTHER! I ONLY DID IT ONCE! OHOHOAHAHAHAOONLY OHOHOOAHAHAONCE! EEIEIEEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHEHEHAHAA! NO MORE! NO MORE BUTTON BERRIES! NOHOHOAHAHAHAHO MOHOHORREEHEHEHEHE! EIEIIEIHAHAHAHAEHEHEAHHAHAHA!"

Puriel sits back up, smiling at his misery. "My giggle belly gets as many berries as I want it to, and I say it gets lots of button berries, so it's going to get lots of button berries."

"NO! NO MORE! NO BUTTON BERRIES! THEY TICKLE! THEHEHEHEHEY TIHIHICKLE! NOHOHOHOO!" As the Power looks back down to his abused belly, Sablo sucks it in, he's getting button berries anyway, he's going to avoid them as best as he can. "Oh, now you're getting an extra bad button berry." The medic takes a massive breath and begins lowering himself towards his belly again, Sablo kicks his feet in anticipation, it's going to be so tickly, it's going to tickle so bad, he knows it, it's going to be really, really tickly. Lips press over his belly button and sit there, he laughs anticipatory laughs, arching his back sharply, drilling his heels into the bed, it's going to be a bad one, he knows it is. And then he blows. Its long and hard and sends tickly vibrations all around his belly, and he squeals, he squeals loud and high pitched. "EIEIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEAHEAHEHEHEHAAHAHAHAHAHA! BAHAHEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHA! NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! NOHOHOHAHAAHAOOT AGAHAHAIEIEIEHAHAHAHEAHHAHA! NOHOHOEOEIEIEAAHAHAHAHAH! NO MORE! NO MORE BUTTON BERRIES! EIEIEIHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHEHEHAAHAHAHAHA! NO WAIT—EIEIIEAIHAAHAHAHHAHAHIEIHEAHAHA! MERCIEIIEIEIEAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Mercy?" He sits up slightly, spidering his fingers over the shaking belly, the little angel shrieks and kicks, wiggling from side to side, bucking to try and dislodge those spidering fingers. "I don't know what that is. You get no mercy. You only get button berries."

"NO! NO MORE BUTTON BERRIES! THEY TICKLE! THEY TIHIHIICKLE! NOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAY AAAHAHWAAHAHHAY! EEIEIEIEIHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHIEIEIEIAAIHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NO! NOOEEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAA!"

"And a berry here," he takes a breath and presses his lips against the right side of his belly, blowing a long hard berry into the slightly pudgy skin. "EIEEIIEAHAHAAHAHEHEHAHEAHAHAHAHAHAHEHAHAHA! NOHOHOOHOOO MOHHaHAHAHAHAHORE!" He moves over to the left side, "and a berry here." He takes an equally long breath and blows another vicious berry. "AHAHAHAHHAEEIEIIEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" He moves to the spot under his belly button, "this spot gets a berry too." He takes another deep breath. "EIEIIEIIEHAHAHAHEHAHAHEHEHAHAHHAHA!" He moves to the spot above his belly button. "And this spot gets a berry." He takes another breath. "AHAHAHAHEEIEIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHA!"

Puriel sits up slightly, looking him in the watering eyes. "And, the button gets a big bad berry." He takes the biggest breath yet, and lowers himself slowly, taking in the hysterical laughter exploding from their little Elect. "NO! NO MORE! GET AWAY! STAY AWAY! NO BUTTON BERRIES! NOHOHOHO!" His laughter picks up the closer he gets. "NOHOHOHO! GEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHEEHEHET AWAAHAHAHHAHAWAHHAHAHAY! NOHOHOHOO BEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHAHEELLY BEHEHHEERRIES!" Lips press over his belly and sit there, but he squeals anyway, kicking his legs and shaking his head. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAEHEHEHAHAHAH! Then he blows, and he squeals louder. "EEIEIEIIEAAIHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHAA!"

"Okay, I'm satisfied. You've been tortured enough." The medic rolls off of him, stretching out next to him instead, crossing his ankle comfortably, smiling in amusement at the giggling ball of little angel he's left in his wake. Sablo curls on his side, his chest heaving, wiping tears from his eyes, giggling breathlessly still. He shakes his head, reaching down to stroke his fingers through the dark silky curls, scratching his head softly. "I'm sorry, that was mean, I won't be that mean again."

The little Elect giggles softly. "My belly huhuhurts."

"Come'ere, little guy." He tugs on his curls lightly, and Sablo lifts himself up, crawling languidly over to his side, curling around the older angel. The medic curls his arm around him, pulling him close to his side, rubbing at his back softly. "You just calm down now, take it easy." The young Elect nods lightly, closing his eyes softly, sighing in content at the fingers rubbing at his back soothingly. "That's it, close those eyes, you take a nap now, you're completely spent."

"I can nap here?"

"You sure can."


	105. Abraxos' First Little Elect

"Oh, Puri," he walks around their home searching for his adorable little Elect. "Where are you?" He tosses a few pillows aside to see if he's hiding under them and continues on. "It's time for your tickly tickle torture." He falls still, silent, focusing on his sense of hearing, listening intently for any sort of noise, and he smiles, when a soft giggling reaches his ears. "Just wait until I get my hands on that adorable little chubby belly, we're going to have a great time." He turns around, making his way down the hall, following the sound of those hushed giggles.

Nisroc meets him in the hall, tilting his head slightly, inquiring silently on the matter of if he'd found him. Abraxos smirks lightly, pointing into his room with his thumb, the door hangs open, and he turns, stomping inside, he knows his little Elect is in there, that's where the soft little giggles had lead him. The giggles fall silent, an intake of breath hits him near silently, and he follows it, gesturing for his older brother to follow, pointing down at his bed.

Him and his Captain kneel slightly at the foot of the second oldest Power's bed and reach under. Their fingers curl around an ankle each, and they tug, pulling their young Elect out from under his mentor's bed. He giggles, smiling up at them, and waves his hand slightly. "Hi."

"Hello, Puri." Nisroc purrs softly, returning his smile. "It took us longer to find you this time, then it did last."

"I'm getting better."

"That you are," Abraxos pokes him in the side and their little Elect squeaks softly, leaning away from him, closer to their Captain. "But, not good enough."

They pick him up, one hand curled around his ankles, and the other around his upper arm, and stand up, tossing him over the edge of the bed, and he shrieks, bouncing over the mattress lightly, and tries to crab crawl away. His mentor catches him by the ankles, tugging him back down on his back, Nisroc chuckles lightly, walking around the edge of the bed, sliding up under his head, reaching down to catch his wrists, pulling his arms up over his head. "You can have the belly, Abe, but the armpits are mine."

"You can have the armpits, I only want his belly, that's all mine." Abraxos climbs up over his legs, he tries to behind his legs at the knee, but they only meet his mentors chest, the older Power leans over him still, but reaches back, to wiggle his fingers under his knees, and he shrieks softly, dropping his legs quickly. His mentor crawls forward, laying over his legs, resting on his elbows right over the middle of his belly, and smiles up at him playfully. "It's time for your tickly tickle torture, baby brother."

"But, I was good! I didn't give you any trouble all week!"

"I know, and it makes me very proud, but that's not going to stop your tickly tickle tortures." He slips his hands up under his tunic. "Not until you learn to love this adorable chubby little tummy as much as we do."

"It's not adorable!" Their Elect snaps, it's unlike their bright little baby brother, and they exchange quick concerned glances over his head, before his mentor looks back down at him. "It's nasty and disgusting and shameful! That's what everyone says! It jiggles when I jump and when I run, and it's embarrassing, I hate it! I hate how I look! My belly isn't firm and toned like yours and Nis's is, it's jiggly and flabby, and I hate it! I'm fat and ugly! Everyone says so!"

Abraxos frowns lightly, this is the first time he's heard about this, and he thinks back on how his little baby Elect behaves, trying to remember if there had been any warning signs about how much he detested himself. "Who tells you this, Puri?"

"Hofniel and Theliel! And, they're right, I hate my belly! I hate it! IhateitIhateitIhateit! It's jiggly and round and big and flabby and I hate it!"

His mentor looks up to their Captain above his head, Nisroc is frowning, he's clearly displeased, he's very protective of his baby Elects. "I will discuss this with them. This sort of behavior is unacceptable."

Abraxos nods lightly, and looks back down to his little Elect, rubbing his hands over his portly little tummy. "Puri, you're wrong, about everything, so very wrong. You're _beautiful_. You're _amazing_. I don't think your ugly, and I most certainly don't think you're fat, and I know Nis doesn't either."

"I would never."

"It doesn't matter that your belly isn't flat and toned, it doesn't have to be, you're not fat, you eat just right, you like your sweets, but you know to eat them in moderation, you're doing everything right, you were created to be this way, and there's nothing wrong with that, there's nothing wrong with _you_." He circles his palm over his rotund belly lovingly and soothingly. "Nis and I think you're perfect just the way you are, we wouldn't want you to change a thing, we think your tummy _is_ adorable. It saddens me to know that you felt this way, and I am ashamed of myself for not noticing, we will work on this lack of self esteem together, the three of us, and we will build you tall and strong, just like I know you can be."

Puriel stares up at him, biting his lip lightly, blinking quickly, as though he was blinking back tears. "You promise you guys don't think I'm ugly and fat?"

He stills his hands. "I _promise_." The second oldest Power wiggles his fingers lightly over the sides of his belly, and he squeaks, giggling brightly, squirming from side to side, tugging at his captive arms. "I happen to _adore_ this ticklish little tummy, it doesn't matter to me as to what it looks like at _all_ , I think it's _adorable_ just the way it is."

"Ahahahabe! Tihihickles!"

"Oh, it does, does it?" He pulls his hands out from under his tunic and curls his fingers around the hem of his shirt, pushing it upwards, revealing his favorite chubby little tummy to him. "Look at this tummy." He wiggles his index fingers on either side of his belly button, and their little Elect shrieks softly, squirming from side to side, trying to pull his belly out from under him. "What's not to love?" He claws his fingers in suddenly, and the youth squeals brightly, jolting under him.

"Eieiieiaiahahahahahahaha Ahahahhabe! Nihihis lehehehheet gohohoho! Eeieeiiaiaahahahahahhahahaeieieieiaiaahahahhaha! Nohohoho! Nohohohoh Ahahhahaabe! Eeieieiaiiaaaahahahhahahaahaaiieieieiaahhahahahahahahaa!"

He pauses his attack, and the bright squealing laughter dies down into rapid giggles, and Abraxos smiles down at him. "I happen to know for a _fact_ , that his belly is mighty ticklish." He pokes him in the belly playfully, all over, and the boy under him jolts and jumps and squeaks with ever poke. "This is my belly now. I _own_ this belly. I'll share it with Nis, because I'm nice, but this is _my_ belly." His mentor smiles at him playfully, wiggling his fingers against the shaking belly gently, spinning his hands in small slow circles, getting every spot of his belly, leaving nothing untouched, and the boy shrieks and arches his back, squeaks turning into bright shrieking peals of laughter, tugging harshly at his arms. "Say this is my belly, Puri, say it, say this is my chubby little tickly tummy."

"Nohoho! Sihihiir!"

"Abe, he just called you _'sir'_."

"I heard it, Nis, I heard it, it must have been a slip of the tongue."

"You should still address it."

"I agree. I agree."

He tilts his head, looking down at his Elect. "What did you just call me? Did you call me _'sir'?"_ he continues his gently torture of his belly, and wiggles the fingers of his right hand down to his side, the boy under him shrieks and squeals with laughter, arching his back and squirming where he lay under the two Power, looking up as he tugs at his arms again, begging Nisroc to let him go. "I swear I just heard you call me _'sir'_ , but I know you know not to, so I must have misheard, tell me, my little tickle boy, did I mishear you?"

"Yehehehehehes! Yehehehehehes! I sahahahahhahaid Ahhahahahhahaabbee! _I sahahhahahaaid Ahahahahaabe!"_

"That's what I thought you said, I knew I must have misheard you." He wiggles his fingers up and down his side, and the young angel rocks lightly, trying to turn up onto his side to block out the fingers, and then he runs them back up over his tummy, the shaking little chubby giggle filled tummy. "Now, say this is my little tickle tummy."

"Nohohoho! It'shshshshshs mihihihihihiihinneheheheheheehe!"

Abraxos chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Oh, no, no. It most certainly is not. This," he wiggles his index fingers on either side of his belly button, and Puriel squeals softly, sucking in his belly as much as he can. "Eieieieiaiaiahahahahahahhahaha Ahahahaabe! Nohohoho!" He looks up again, tugging at his arms, Nisroc had, at some point, trapped his hands under his thighs, sitting lightly on his hands, carefully, keeping his arms trapped above his head, and sought the book that had been resting on the bedside table, reading through it silently, basking in the sound of their Elect's tortured laughter, he looks down at the sound of his name being squealed and simply chuckles, reaching down with one hand to pat him on the head, before reaching back up to turn the page. Puriel looks back down to his mentor, squealing and shrieking with laughter, he wonders if they can hear it downstairs, he's laughing really loud, he can't really focus enough on it to think too deeply on that thought, he can only focus on those fingers wiggling on either side of his belly button. Abraxos smiles at him lightly. "This is _my_ little chubby tickle tummy, not yours, _mine_."

He looks back down to his beloved tummy, lifting his fingers away from it, wiggling them just above, and the little angel giggles frantically, eyes jumping from hand to hand of wiggling torturous fingers. "What's going to happen to this little tummy now?"

"Noohhoohohohoothing! Nohohothing!"

"Now, I don't think that's the case." He hovers his fingers right over his belly, wiggling still, the tips of his fingers just ghosting over the shaking surface, his young Elect giggles harder, watching those dangerous fingers closely. "I think it's going to get more tickly tickles."

"Nohoho! Ahahahhaabbee! Nohhoohoho!"

"Oh, yes, I think it is." His fingers touch down, and the young Elect squeals brightly, arching his back at the suddenness of the assault, he knew it was coming, but he still wasn't prepared. He looks like an adorable little fledgling, cackling brightly with bright peals of laughter, head thrown back against their oldest brother's thigh, it's an endearing sight, and they both watch it for a moment, it makes both elder Power's smile. "My little chubby tickle tummy is going to get some tickles." The mentor spiders his fingers over to the left side of his belly and the little Elect squeals again, shaking his head, arching over to the other side as much as he can, squealing again when his fingers wiggle over to the right side of his belly, and he bounces lightly, jumping over to the left. "This chubby little tickle tummy seems to me, to be quite ticklish."

Puriel shakes his head feverishly, boisterous cackles pouring out of him, bouncing lightly where he lays as those fingers torture the sides of his belly relentlessly, zipping from side to side.

"Oh, yes, it is, it's quite ticklish." He digs his fingers into his lower belly, really digs them into the pudge, and the boy arches his back sharply, shrieks of laughter exploding from his lips. "My little tickle tummy is mighty ticklish." Abraxos looks down at his tummy with raised eyebrows and a playful smile. "Now, look at this adorable plump tummy."

"Myhyhyhy tuhuhuhuhummyyhyhyhyhy ihihihihihis nohhohohohot adohohohohohoraahahahable!"

"Oh, but it is." He wiggles his index fingers into a little pouch of baby fat above his waist line, under his belly button, and their little Elect squeals brightly, flowing right into uproarious laughter, pressing his head back against his Captain's lap. "It's mighty cute." He keeps on for a moment, just savoring the uproarious laughter coming from their giggly, mighty ticklish little Elect, and then he pulls back, staring down at the little tummy roll, and then he rushes down, burying his face into the roll, nibbling it playfully. Puriel's eyes widen, and he throws his head back again, arching his back sharply, screeching with laughter. "IIIEIEIEIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHHOHOHO AHAHAHHAHHAAABBBEEEHEHEHHEHEHEHEE IIIEIIEIAAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOHOHHOHOHOHOP THHAHAHAHAHAHAT! NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHHAHAHAHAT IIEIEIIEIAIAAHHAHAHAHAAHAHA! NOHOHOHO NIHIHIHIHIHIBBLES! NOHOHOHOO NIHIHIHIHIBBLES!"

Abraxos pulls away from his belly, licking his lips lightly, and smiles up at him as he pants heavily, trying to catch his breath. "Now, are you going to say this is my little tickle tummy, or am I going to have to use some more drastic tactics to get what I want to hear?"

Puriel bites his lip, shaking his head stubbornly, he'd never say it, never ever, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction, he was a Power Elect, he needed to be strong and withstand the worst tortures known to them, and that included the torturous tickle torture.

His mentor smiles down at him, poking him in the belly button playfully, and he shrieks, it elicits bouts of hysterical giggles from him. "You're cute." He pokes all over his belly, pulling his finger out of his belly button, and their Little Elect jumps from side to side, jolting and squeaking. "I like you, I made the right choice in picking you, I've never doubted my decision, and I never will." He pulls his hands away, resting his arms up his sides, leaning forward on his elbows. "Now, about those drastic convincing tactics." He looks down at the bare chubby tummy with a smile, eyeing it carefully, as though searching out a spot for attack. "Let's see if this will make you say it."

Puriel's eyes widen comically, when it finally dawns on him on what's about to happen, what his drastic tactics are, and he shakes his head frantically. "NO! NO ABE! No, no, no!" He squirms from side to side, tugging desperately at his arms, trying to pull himself out from under the Captain so he can push himself out from under the Captain's luitenant, bouncing lightly where he lays. "Not that! Not those! Not those, please!" _Those_ are just as bad as nibbles, if not worse, definitely worse, and nibbles are pretty bad, so _those_ are terrible.

"Oh, yes." He curls his fingers over his sides to keep him still, in place, and bends forward. " _Those."_ Abraxos presses his lips over the little Elects belly button, and rests there, listening to him shriek and giggle, takes a deep breath, waits a moment, and blows out a long hard raspberry. The boy squeals loudly, brightly, and he laughs softly against his belly, before he takes another deep breath and blows another mean raspberry. He squeals and jerks around, arching his back and bouncing under him, with every harsh playful raspberry, at some point, he doesn't know when, but mid bounce, as he arches his back, snaking his arms under him, around his lower back, and his fingers poke out at his sides, and they wiggle in torturously. Abraxos presses a kiss to his shaking belly, pressing a wave of playful kisses all over, and then plants a rather big one over his belly button, and the young Elect continues to bounce under him, giggling and shrieking at the round of playful light kisses. "I love this little tummy. With all my heart. It's perfect, absolutely perfect, just the way it is. Don't ever change this little tummy. _My_ little tickle tummy." He takes another deep breath, buries his face into the little roll under his belly button, and shakes his head as he blows out his raspberry.

Puriel squeals and laughs, boisterous uproarious laughter, as he blows again and again, shaking his head from side to side feverishly, arching his back again, kicking his feet under his mentor as much as he can. He can't take it, it tickles so bad, it tickles so much, he can't take it, he'll crack under this tickle torture, he'll say what he wants to hear, he'll say it, anything to get him to stop. "IHIHIHIHIHIT'S YOHOHOHOHHOHOHOUR TIHIHIHIHIHIHICCKLE TUHUHUHUHUMMYYYHYHYHYHY!"

"Can you repeat that?" He nibbles at the tummy roll, takes a deep breath, buries his face in again, and blows another massive raspberry. "I want to hear it again, it's what?"

"EIEIEIIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA YOHOHOHHOHOHOURS! EIEIEIIAEIAIIAIAAHAHAHAHHAA YOHOHHOHOHOHHOUR TIHIHIHIHICCKLEEHEHEEHE TUHUHUHUMMY!"

"Do you admit that this is my little chubby tickle tummy?"

"YEHEHEHEHEHESSS! YOHOHOHOHOOUUHUHUHUHUUR CHUUHUHUHUHUHUBBYYHYHYHYHY TIHIHIHIHIHICKLEEHEHEHEHE TUUHUHUHUMMY!"

His mentor chuckles lightly, peppering more light playful kisses over his belly, and he giggles breathlessly, bouncing softly with every other kiss. "I really love my little tickle tummy." He sits up again. "Now, I want you to say something else for me."

"Whahahahat?"

"I want you to say; _'Abe, please give my tickle tummy some berries.'_ "

Puriel shakes his head firmly. "No!" And bites his lip, shaking his head feverishly from side to side.

"Say it, or I'm going to nibble at this little roll all night long."

He smiles when his mentee squeals softly behind his closed lips, shaking his head again, just at the thought of that happening. "Say it, baby brother, say it."

Puriel bites his lip harshly, taking a deep breath, he giggles lightly as he opens his mouth. "Abe…." He thinks about the prospect of more nibbles, of nibbles all night, and licks his lips anxiously, in anticipation. "Abe….please….please give my tickle tummy…..please give my tickle tummy some berries."

"Why, I'd be glad to, Puri!" He leans over, taking a deep breath as he rushes down, and buries his face into his belly, blowing out a series of long hard raspberries. Puriel screams, squealing, again and again, as he blows raspberry after raspberry all over his belly, moving from spot to spot, he bounces wildly underneath him, kicking his legs again, tugging at his arms.

"NOHOHHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHHAHAGAAHAHAHHAIIHIHIHIHIN! NOT AGAIN! AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAEIEIEIAIAIAIHAHAHAHAHAHAH NOHHOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHO IIEIEIIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAHHAHAHAHAHHAEIEIEIEAIAIHAHAHAHHAHAHA! NO! DON'T! STOP IT! STOHOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIHIT! AAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAAA!" Abraxos pulls away, taking another deep breath, and he screams with laughter when the Power makes a show of taking a deep breath, puffing his cheeks up, and slowly lowers himself back down. "NO! NOHOHO! ABE NO! STAY AWAY! NOT MY TUMMY! NOHOHO! EIEIIEIAIAAIHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAEIEIAIIAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAABBBBBBEEHEHEHEHEHEHE AHAHAHAHAIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAID IHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAID IHHIHIHIHIT AHAHAHAHAALLLL! EIEIEIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOOREEE! EIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHHEHEEASE PLEASE EIEIEIIAIAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHANT TAAHAHAHHAHAKE IHIHIHIIT! EIEIAIIAAIAIHAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES SOHOHOHOHO BAHAHHAHAHAHHAAD! EIEIEIIAIAAIHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAHAEIIEIEIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHAA!"

"Okay," his mentor pulls away, rubbing his hands over his tummy, as though to rub away the remaining tingles, as he giggles breathlessly, panting feverishly. He knows it's not done, not yet, they both get to have a turn, it's Nis's turn, and his armpits tingle at the mere thought of it. "It's then end of my turn." He continues to rub over his tummy as he looks up to their oldest brother. "Your turn."

Nisroc closes the book he'd been reading peacefully, as though his younger brother wasn't ruthlessly torturing their baby brother underneath him and sets it over on the bedside table. "My turn, already?" He reaches down, over his head, curling his fingers around the hem of his shirt. "He can have a small break while I prepare for my turn." Abe continues rubbing his tummy soothingly as his shirt is pulled up over his head, and his giggles slowly calm down, watching as his oldest brother reaches under himself for one of his hands, pulling the sleeve off completely, puts his hand back under his thigh, and reaches for the other one. He folds his shirt nicely and leans over to set it on the bedside table, over the book he'd been reading. "Okay, I'm ready, let's swap places."

He lays there limply, his arms stretched over his head, they're strong then him, they'd just get him back into this position and then it would be bad, so much worse, super bad, Nis would kill him. Abraxos and Nisroc switch places, his mentor sits on his hands, trapping his arms above his head, and Nisroc lays over him like his mentor had moments before, but higher, over his chest, directed towards his right armpit. Abraxos smiles at his Captain when their eyes meet, the little Elect giggling already, turning to watch him as much as he can, pressing his cheek to his upper arm. "Have fun."

"Oh, I will, I'm going to enjoy myself greatly." He looks over to their giggling Elect and smiles down at him, leaning over to peck his nose fondly, before turning back to the armpit under him. "I'm going to tickle torture these little armpits within an inch of their lives."

Puriel shrieks and jumps when a finger pokes at his armpit, poking all over, leaving no spot unpoked, the oldest Power settles over him, looking down to his tickle spot as he pokes around his armpit playfully, basking in the joyous shrieks and giggles echoing around them. "Aahehehehhehehhehahaehhhahahaa! NO! Let go! Abe! Leheheheet gohoho! Nohohot thehehere!"

"I don't think so, I _told_ you I was giving these armpits a big old fashioned tickle torture, and I don't say things I don't mean." He stops poking, his fingers resting in the hollow of his armpit. "Are you ready for your armpit tickles?" Puriel shakes his head, pressing into his oldest brother's upper arm as he tries to turn and see, but he can't, he can't see, and that makes it so much worse, because if he can't see, he can't try to prepare himself for the attacks as they come. The finger wiggles in deeply, and he shrieks brightly, laughter bubbling up from within his belly and filling the space the giggles had left free for the taking. "Aahahahhahahahahahaha! NO! Ahahahahhahahahhahaa! Gehehehehet ihihihit ohohohout! Get it out! GET IT OUT!" The only thing that changes is another finger joining in. "AAHHEHEHEHEHHAHAHHAA! Bahahahahhahaha! Not there! Nohohohohot thehehehehehere!" The second finger disappears and the first finger circles around his armpit, away from the hollow, up to the edge, and then it slowly circles back down, all the while the younger angel is cackling, drilling his heels into the bed, shrieking when the finger returns to wiggle in his hollow again. "Aaahehehehehehehehehhehehe! Bahahahahahaha! Not there! Nohohohot thehehehehehere!" The finger pulls away and he gulps in air, his chest heaving wildly, his tummy shaking still from the force of his laughter.

And, it's then, that he hears the forewarning about what's to come next. "Time for some armpit berries."

And, that's the only warning he gets before there's a sharp inhale of breath, and a bearded face is pressing into his armpit, blowing out a vicious berry over the sensitive skin. Puriel screams with laughter, tugging desperately at his arms, squealing loudly when another raspberry I blown into the hollow of his armpit. "EEIEIAIAIAIAIAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA! NO BERRIES! NOHOHOHO NIHIHIHIS! NO AHAHAHAHAARMPIHIHIT BEEEEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIIEEIEERRIES!" His Captain only takes another deep breath and shakes his head, blowing out viciously over his ticklish armpit, another torturous raspberry. "EEIEIIEIAIAAIHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES SOHOHOHOHOO BAHAHAHAHAHHADDDEIEIEIAIAIAIAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! EIEIEIAIAAHAHHAHAHAAH STOHOHOHOHHOP! NOHHHOHOHOHEOAHOHAAHAHHHOOOO MOHOHOHOHORE! PLEHEHEHHEHHEHEEAASE!"

He breathes feverishly, his chest heaving, when he finally pulls away, the tingles driving the giggles that continue to pour from his heaving belly. Nisroc smiles down at him, he knows that smile, he knows that smile really well, as he switches to the other side, letting him take a moment to catch his breath. "We can't forget the other side. Since I was kind of mean over there, I won't give this little armpit any berries, maybe, I'm not sure, I guess we'll both find out, after all, these little armpits deserve as many berries as they can get." Puriel's giggles pick up again when he feels the single finger circle around his armpit gently, starting at the edge, and working it's way down slowly, twirling around and around, it drives him crazy, because he knows what's going to happen once it reaches its destination. "Aaahahehhehehehehahahahaha!" The finger reaches it's destination, wiggling furiously into the hollow of his armpit, the giggles pick up into boisterous laughter, and he turns, pressing is cheek against the Power's upper arm again. "Eeehehehahahahahaha! Get it out! Nohohohohot thehehehehere! Get it out! Geheheheheet ihihihihit ohhohhout!" Another finger joins it, then another, until five fingers are fluttering over his exposed armpit, and he shrieks with laughter at the sensation, kicking his feet wildly, tugging at his arms again, Abraxos rubs his head fondly and turns the page in the book he's reading. "Ahahahahhahahahaaaeeieieiaiiaiaiaiaahahahhaa! Tihihihihihihihiickles! IT TICKLES!"

"It does, does it?" His fingers pull away for a moment. "Does this tickle too?" He buries his face into his armpit, pressing little kisses over the hollow of his armpit, takes a deep breath, and blows out a big berry right over the sensitive spot. Puriel shakes his head, screaming with laughter, pressing close against his oldest brother's arm, kicking his feet again. "EIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! AHAHAHHHAAAHEHEHEHEHAHHAHAHAHAAH! YOU SAID NO BERRIES! YOHHOHOHOOHU SAHAHHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAID! YOHOHHOU SAHAHHAID NOHOHOHO BEHEHEHERRIEEEIIEAIAIAHAHAHAHHAAHA!"

Nisroc pulls away slightly, "I lied." And rushes back down.

"AHAHAHAHHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHHAA! IEIEIIEAEIIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO MORE! NOHOHOOEIEIEIEIHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU SAID NO BEHEHEHEEEEIEIEIEIEIIEEIEIEHEAHHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO! AAIAIIAIEIEIEIEIAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOO BEHEHEHHERRIEEEHEHEHEHES! NOHOHO BERRIES!"

"Time for my secret weapon."

"NOHOHOHO! NOHOHOOT THAHAAHAHHAT!"

His older brother chuckles softly at his protest, rubbing his bearded chin into his ticklish armpit, and the young Elect shrieks and squeals. "AAHAHHAHAHAHHAA! NOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAT! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE BEHEHEHEHEHEHEEAHAAHAHAHAHARD! NOT THAT! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE BEHEHEHEEAAHAHAHAHARD! THEHEHEHE BEHEHEHEHEEAAAHAHAHAHARD TIHIHIHIHICKLES! IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES SOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHHAD!"

"No beard?" He pulls away from his armpit. "Okay, no beard, how about this?" Five fluttering fingers reappear again and he shrieks, arching his back, bouncing under the Captain, curling his fingers under his mentor's thighs, he can't move, he simply throws his head back as he squeals with laughter. "Bahahahahahheeheieieiahahahahha nohhohohhohhoaahahahhahaa fluhhuhuhuhuhuhutters! Nohohoho fluhuhuhuhutters!"

"No berries, no beard, no flutters, what about this?"

"Aaahahhahahahahahaha nohohohoho! Thahahahahhaat's wohohohorse! GET IT OUT! Gehehehehehheet ihihihihihhihit ohhohhohohout!" The wiggling finger falls still be remains in place. "Nah, I don't think so." The moment it starts wiggling again, he screams with laughter, throwing his head back against his mentor's lap. "Aahahahahhahahahhaeeieieiaihaahhhahaha! Nohohohohooaooahahhahahaha nohohohoho! Nohohohoot thehehehehere! Thahahahahhaat tihihhihihihickles! Bihhihig brohhohohohother! Thahahahhahahaat tihihihickles! Ihihihit tihihihickles!"

"It does?" The finger pulls away. "Do these flutters tickle too?" Ten fingers flutter over his armpit and he squeals, nodding feverishly, even though the older angel isn't looking to see if he did. "Yehehehehhehes! Tihihhihihickles! Thahahahahhaat tihihihickles! Nohohohoho mohohohore fluhuhuhuhutters! Nohohoho mohohhohohore! Ihihihihihit tihihihiihickles!"

Hs fingers pull away again and he waits in anticipation for what's next. "That tickles too? What about these berries, do these tickle too?"

"NO! NO BERRIES! NOHOHOHOOEOEIEIEIEIEIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! YEEISISIISIAIAIAIAHHAHAHAIAIAIEIIEIEIES IHIHHIHIIIAIIAHAHAHAHAHAHHHEIEIEIEIEIAIAIHAHHHIIIIT TIHHIHICHIHIIEIEIIEIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIIICKLES!"

"Good, good to know, here, have a few more."

"NO! NOHOHOEOEOAOAAOAOAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAEIEIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! EEIIEIEIAIAHHAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAAHA NIHIHIHIHIS EIEIIEAIAIAIAIHAHAHAHAHAHAHH! HAHAHAHAHHEIEIEIEIAIAHAHAHAHHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOP! NOHOHOHOAOOAHHAHAHIEIEIIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHA MOHOHHOOORE! TIHIHIHIIEEIIEIAIAIAAIAIAIAA! TIHIHIHICKLES SOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHHAAD! IHIHIHIHI CAAHAHHAHAAN'T TAAHHAHAHAHAKEIEIIEIEIEIEEIAIAHAHAHAHA! IT'S NOT FAIR! STOHOHOHHOP! STOHOOHHOHOP! EEIIEIEIAIAAIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAAN'T TAHAHHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIT!"

Nisroc chuckles, and he hears the book thump closed above him, as he heaves for a breath, panting heavily. He turns to face him, resting on his elbows above him, and Puriel giggles madly, a tad deliriously, staring up at him with teary eyes. "Give me a kiss?" He puckers his lips lightly, and their little Elect giggles, shooting upward, pecking him on the lips. "I think you've had enough, that concludes your tickle torture."

"Yahahahay."

He pulls away completely, and he feels Abraxos shift, his mentor's fingers curling under his arms, and he's tugged backwards. "Come here, you." He's limp, completely dead to the world, and lays back against his mentor's chest, his head pressed back in the crook of his shoulder. He feels large warm hands rub at his arms, his mentor is so kind and gentle, and he tilts to the side slightly as he reaches over for something, he turns his head to see what it is, and a glass of water is held to his lips, a straw sticking out over the edge. "Take a sip, little guy." He nods, leaning forward, curling his lips around the straw, and takes a greedy sip, he takes a few, and then he leans back against his mentor again.

Abraxos leans over to put the glass back, and curls his arms around him, rubbing at his belly gently, and he hums, purring softly, he likes it when he gets belly rubs, they're the best, he really, really like's his belly rubs. "There you go, take it easy, here's a nice belly rub for you."

"That was mean."

"It was, we got a bit carried away, we're sorry." He feels a beard rub against his cheek and a pair of warm lips press in a kiss and he glances over, Nisroc smiles at him, pulling the blanket up over him, just incase he got cold without his shirt on. "Sorry, baby brother."

He smiles at him lightly. "It's okay. I had fun. And, it made me feel better." They both chuckle softly and he looks down to his lap, or what would be his lap, it he wasn't covered by the blanket, he's resting between his mentor's legs, and he curls his hands over Abe's knees lightly. "You guys really don't think I'm fat and ugly?" Nisroc's beard rubs over his cheek as he lays down another kiss. "No, I don't." Abraxos squeezes him tightly for a moment, before rubbing at his belly again, and leans in to press a kiss to his other cheek. "I think you're perfect just the way you are. You don't need to change a thing."

Nisroc leans back, resting against the pillows of the second Power's bed. "We're also happy you had fun."

"I had a lot of fun!" Puriel curls his fingers together under the blanket. "Ilikedit."

Abraxos chuckles under him, wiggling a finger into his belly button lightly, and the boy shrieks softly, shimmying from side to side. "What was that you said?" He stops his playful little assault and returns to rubbing his belly, it'll make him sleepy once he gets whatever's on his mind taken care of, he just has to clear his mind first. "We didn't catch what you said."

Their baby brother sighs softly, they'd find out eventually, he might as well get it out of the way sooner rather then later. "I said….I said I liked it…..I like tickles….I like how fun they are and I like laughing…..I like it." He closes his eyes, ready for the rejection, his guardian has said it was okay, but this is the real test, they're probably going to kick him out now, he really _is_ disgusting. His mentor's arms squeeze around him again. "Okay, thanks for telling us."

He looks around, turning slightly to look up at him, as he returns to rubbing his belly once more. "You…You don't think it's disgusting?"

Abraxos smiles down at him, kissing his Elect on the nose lightly. "I don't think so," he turns to their Captain. "Nis?"

"I think it makes you even _more_ adorable."

He turns his attention back to the younger angel look up at him, and pecks him on the nose again, brushing their noses together lightly. "See, we don't think it's disgusting, it's okay to have something you like. If you like tickles, that's fine, we're happy to give you tickles any time you want them, you just have to ask."

Puriel smiles up at his mentor, turning just a bit more to wrap his arms around his chest, pressing in close, tucking his head under his chin. "Thanks, Abe." His mentor wraps him in his arms for a moment, hugging him close. "You don't have to thank me, my little Platypus, I'll support you no matter what." He turns him back around, pulling him back to rest against him, returning to his belly rubbing. "Now, you settle on down, it's time for you to nap, especially after the tickle torture we just put you through."

He yawns lightly, nodding back, curling his arms around one of his mentor's hands, his fingers scratch at his chest lightly as his free hand continues to rub at his belly. "I love you, Abe."

"I love you too, Platypus."


	106. Battle Wounds

He looks up as the others begin to trickle in, slowly and carefully, some nursing light injuries and bruises, he looks between them all, watching as Titus helps Haniel up the final stair, Abraxos curls his mace over his shoulder as he steps around them, Puriel stumbles up the stairs with his bow hanging around his chest and his sheath of arrows hanging over his shoulder, and he frowns, when Sablo and Tatrasiel bring up the end, walking tiredly passed the Lounge and down the hall, to wash up and rest.

No one else comes.

"Puri, where's papa?" His younger brother, resting his head on his stomach, tilts his head back to look up at the medic curiously, the memories of Nisroc not coming back, not the way he always promised to, still fresh in his mind, even though it had been months, nearly half a year, it was still a fresh wound. Both boys waited up there for him to come back when he was sent away on a mission or to the front lines, as though to make sure he did come back, to be the first thing he saw when he stepped over the final stair, a comforting sense of home as they curled around him tightly, thanking him for keeping his promise.

The medic raises a finger, as he pours himself a glass of water and gulps it down, he was hot, and thirsty, and sweaty, he couldn't wait to take a shower and just collapse on his bed.

Paul sits up from his reclined position, forcing Sasha to sit up, and they both turn to face him. "Puri, where's papa!"

Puriel sets his glass down and takes a deep breath to fill his lungs once more, before looking up at them, to address their worries. It was still fresh on all of their minds. "He's alright, he's staying in the Infirmary—"

" _What!"_

He waves his hand placatingly. "Calm down, I told you, he's fine, he just took a hard knock to the head and they're keeping him for observation to see if he has a concussion." It's no use though, they're already half way down the stairs, he shakes his head, it still haunts them much too much then it should, though he can't blame them, he'd been furious and depressed when Castiel, the uppity heretic little seraph, killed Raphael after devouring the souls (and Leviathan, that had been great, he took pride in the fact that they killed one, while they cleaned up his mess) and pronouncing himself to be the new god. He'd actually rooted Death on to destroy him, with as much ease as a primordial being could, but alas, it was not to be.

…

They skid to a stop just inside the Infirmary, scooping out their query, anxiously searching for any sign of him. Sasha makes a noise, pointing towards a bed near the back, a few paces away from Zed's workstation, he looks fine, talking to Oren, the Virtue standing at his bedside with his arms crossed loosely, his fingers tapping at his right upper arm. They dart forward, twisting around healers as they pass, evading them skillfully, and both Captains look up at the sound of their thundering arrival, and Nisroc grunts when they jump at him, one curling around his belly and the other around his chest.

Oren chuckles softly at the face he makes, and nods, leaving him to his privacy.

"Boys," he rubs his hands over their heads. "Boys, I'm alright, just a slight concussion."

Paul looks up, his arms curled around his chest, Sasha has his face pressed into his belly. "You swear, papa?"

"I swear, come on, unwrap yourselves." He pushes at them lightly, and they both pull away, a tad begrudgingly, the Power gestures to the two empty beds on either side of him. "Push the beds together and we can all sleep here together for the night." It'll make them feel better and he doesn't mind the company.

Paul and Sasha nod, pushing themselves off his bed, to push the two closer, making a twin bed into a king, and they climb up closer to him. Nisroc smiles down at them, as he settles back against the pillows, resting back against the headboard, he directs his attention down to his youngest when he sees a particular expression crossing over his features. "Hey, no long faces," he digs his fingers into the youth's belly, and he shrieks softly, squirming and kicking out as he assaults him with tickles. "You better turn that frown around, we have all night, and you know how creative I can be." Sasha nods frantically, shrieking with laughter, squirming around on his back as he tries to squirm out from under his assaulting fingers. "Good boy." He pulls his hand away, chuckling softly when the boy curls his arms around himself, twisting over to lay on his belly, just in case he had any more ideas.

He settles back, raising his arms lightly. "Come on, cuddle in close boys, it's passed your bedtime."

"Aahhh, papa," Paul cuddles up against his side. "Why do we still have a bedtime, we're not fledglings anymore."

The Power turns, kissing him on the nose lightly. "Because, having a bedtime means you'll get a good sleep, and that's what's most important." He pecks him on the nose again. "And, because I say you do."

"I hate it when you say that."


	107. Words As Weapons

"Abe, this is the third time he's missed out on supper, I suspect he doesn't eat lunch, and I know for a fact he doesn't eat breakfast." Nisroc looks down the hall to their rooms, leaning over his full plate, his mind was too flustered to think about eating his food. "I made his favorite; turkey and potatoes, I even made cherry pie for desert, he _loves_ cherry pie, but he said he wasn't hungry."

Abraxos lifts his face from his hands, looking over to his Captain. "I have a strong feeling he's being bullied again."

"Did he say who?" He'd threatened to expel Hofniel and Theliel if he'd ever caught wind of them body shaming their little Elect again, such things were taken very seriously, no one was created in the same image, they came in all heights and sizes.

The boy's mentor shakes his head. "Nothing's been confirmed, he keeps saying he's just focusing on his studies, but I'm not blind, I see him staring at himself in the mirror, pressing his hands to his tummy, he's ashamed of himself."

Their Captain rubs his hand over his beard lightly. "You should go talk to him, he listens to you, more then he does me, you're words are as good as gold to him."

Abraxos nods firmly. "I'm going to go see to him." He scoots his chair back and stands, walking around the edge of the table. "Make him up a plate. I'm not coming back without him." Nisroc nods, turning to the side, standing from his seat, and makes his way over to the serving dishes, reaching for a plate in the cabinet above.

He sighs as he makes his way down the hall, stopping at the door across from his, runs his fingers through his hair, and reaches up to knock on the door lightly. "Puri, can I come in?" He waits for a few long moments for his entrance to be granted, and the voice that responds is a small on, meek, upset but clearly trying to hide that it was upset. He twists the door handle and pushes the door open, stepping into the room, his heart breaks for his little Elect.

Standing in front of the mirror, topless, a tape measure wrapped around his belly, his little Elects tear shining eyes look back at him, his lower lip trembling. "Abe…I didn't get any smaller…I didn't get any smaller, Abe…."

"Oh, little platypus," he coos soothingly, closing the door behind him for some sense of privacy, he steps into the room, crossing over to stand behind him, reaching around for the tape measure in his shaking hands. "Don't do that, little platypus, you don't need to do that." He turns him around by the shoulders. "Come here." His little Elect was a tiny shrimpy little thing, and he lifts him easily from his feet, hands curled around his ribs, he lifts him up, pulling him into his arms. Puriel slowly curls around him, the tears finally breaching their dams, and dampen his shoulder. He rubs his back soothingly, swaying from side to side gently, spinning in a slow circle, away from the mirror, they'd remove that damned thing from his room. "Is that why you haven't been eating?"

"I—I wanted t—to be li—like you an—and Nis!" He wails softly. "I—I..I don't wan—want to be ch—chunky any—anymore!"

He moves his hand up from rubbing soothingly at his back to brush through the curls on the back of his head. "Who said you were chunky?"

"Th—Theliel did! H—He said s—someone chunky l—like me couldn't b—be a Power!"

"Theliel is still bullying you?" The little angel nods against his shoulder. "Oh, little platypus, why didn't you tell me?"

"I—I wanted t—to be strong l—like you!" He feels him curl his fingers in the back of his tunic. "I—I didn't w—want to be a c—cry baby!"

"Telling someone that you're being hurt doesn't make you a cry baby, words can hurt just as much as actions, sometimes even more so." Abraxos returns to rubbing his back. " _I'll_ talk to him _myself_. No one, absolutely no one, hurts my little platypus and gets away with it." He presses a kiss to the side of their youngest's head. "You're beautiful just the way you are, Puri, there's nothing to change, nothing _needs_ to be changed, and I'll remind you that every day, all day, you are _beautiful_ , a _wonderful_ person, absolutely _stunning_."

"I—I'm not chunky?"

"No, you most certainly aren't. Theliel is just jealous, jealous that you were the one I picked, _you're_ going to be the Power, not him, you _deserve_ it so much more."

They fall into silence for a moment, and then he hears it, the slight rumble of a hungry belly, and he smiles, rubbing his back again. "Hungry?"

Puriel nods against his shoulder. "I'm really hungry."

Abraxos turns them towards the door. "Let's go get some supper, Nis made your favorite, turkey and potatoes, and for dessert we're going to have a big piece of cherry pie."

His little Elect sniffles softly. "With whipped cream?"

"Of course, with whipped cream, we're not heathens." He smiles when he hears the boy giggle softly, reaching for the door handle, he twists it open, and steps out into the hall, carrying them down for the kitchen. Nisroc is waiting there, still leaning over his plate on his elbows, and smiles at their appearance, concern lights his eyes though as he looks to their little Elect. Abraxos shakes his head, reaching back slightly to tuck the tape measure into his pocket, he'd tell his Captain later, after they put their little guy to bed.

His Captain pushes a chair out across from him, the place he placed the third plate, and Abraxos nods in appreciation, leaning over to set his young mentee down in his chair, pushing it back in once he's seated. He ruffles his silky little curls, resting his large hand on the little angel's head, and leans over to pass him his fork. "Take a big bite for me." Puriel stares down at his plate of turkey and potatoes, unsure, and the hand resting on his head rubs in gently. "You're beautiful, platypus, go on and take a bite, you must be famished." He nods lightly, gathering some potatoes on his fork and stabbing the ends into a piece of turkey, he hesitates, before plopping it in his mouth. The young Elect hums in pleasure and chews, gathering up more on his fork, and the two elder Powers smile at him as he eats his meal, the first one in three days, with much gusto.

Abraxos ruffles his curls one last time and leaves his side, crossing back around the table to take his own seat back, he nods to his older brother and picks up his own bite. Nisroc takes that as his affirmation, and gathers up his own fork full, eating in peace.

Supper passes by quickly, and they both watch him stare at his piece of cherry pie, his lips pursed tightly, clutching at his fork firmly. His mentor leans over him to set a glass of cool milk down beside his plate of pie, and he sighs softly taking his fork from him, he cuts off a piece of the slice of pie, scoops up a good puff of whipped cream, scoops up the piece of cherry pie, and holds it up to his lips. "Come on, platypus, you know you want it, don't punish yourself for a wrongdoing that doesn't even exist." Puriel turns slightly, looking up at him, his eyes watering slightly, and he's quick to assure soothingly. "One piece of delicious pie doesn't make you chunky, it makes you a very happy boy, look at Nis's piece, his is the biggest, that doesn't make him chunky, does it?" Puriel shakes his head quickly. "Right, so this piece of pie won't make you chunky either, one piece isn't bad, two pieces isn't bad either, go on and take a bite." He holds the fork back up to his lips. "If after you take that bite you don't want anymore, I'll eat it myself, there's nothing to worry about, I won't force you to eat it, but you should, you've earned a piece of your favorite pie."

Puriel nods lightly, one bite won't hurt, as long as he only takes one. He opens his mouth and his mentor deposits the pie and whipped cream inside, pulling the fork back out, he hums in pleasure, falling back to lean against the backrest of the chair and chews, swallowing softly, he looks up at his mentor again.

Abraxos smiles down at him. "Want another piece?" He holds his fork out to him when he nods, and he takes it, turning back to his piece of delicious pie, digging in happily. The Power takes his place next to his Captain, and he swallows, looking over to the second oldest Power next to him. "Chucky?"

He shakes his head. "Not right now. He's been through a rough patch, what he needs is some TLC."

"I see," Nisroc takes another bite of pie, chews, and swallows. "Tickles?"

"No, I think this time it calls for cuddles, what's your thoughts on sleeping in the Lounge tonight?"

"For him?" He swallows another bite. "Always."

Abe nods, swallowing his own bite of pie. "I thought we could play a few board games, cuddle up nice and warm together, maybe watch a movie." It was a special occasion when they watched movies, this most certainly counted, they'd do anything for their baby Elect. "Maybe some belly rubs."

"Oh, belly rubs are nice."

"I was thinking you could get your blanket."

"It is the warmest."

He smiles when his little angel reaches out to the pie sitting in the middle of the table and cuts himself a second piece, progress, a good thing. "Make a pillow bed."

"I'm liking what I'm hearing, thus far."

Abraxos nods, pushing his plate away. "Stay with him, I'm going to get one of my shirts for him to sleep in."

"I'll keep an eye on him." Nisroc stands, reaching over to take the boy's plate and fork, picks up the empty pie pan, and takes up their utensils too, crossing around to set them to soak in the sink. "Get my blanket while you're down there."

"Righto."

The Captain comes to stand behind their young Elect, rubbing his curls affectionately, and Puriel looks up at him. "Hey, little bear, let's go pick out some board games."

Puriel looks over to the hall. "Is Abe coming back?"

"He's just gone to grab a couple things, we're going to spend the night together in the Lounge, let's go pick out some board games and a movie."

"But, what about your lessons?"

He rubs his curls again. "I have something more important to attend to."


	108. The Newest Little Elect

He's resting on one of the couches, his eyes closed lightly, his head cushioned on his mentor's right thigh, listening to the soft thrum of his guitar strings strumming in the silence of the Lounge, when he hears it, that voice, that voice that made up his fledglinghood, the voice of his best friend, his other half, the one that he'd give up everything for, the voice he hasn't heard for the better part of two years, that voice.

"And, this is the Lounge."

"It's so big."

Abraxos's guitar comes to a silence, and his eyes snap open, focusing on the voice that responds to his Captain, that voice, he knows that voice, he knows that voice better then anyone.

"This is Abraxos."

He feels his mentor lean over, setting his guitar down to rest against the side of the couch, and then he turns back, his hand settling over his forehead lightly. "You can call me Abe."

"Hi, I'm-" he pushes himself up. "Tus!"

"Puri?" A sword and shield clang as they fall to the stone floor. "Puri!"

Puriel throws himself forward, to his feet, and jumps forward as his younger brother jumps over his sword and shield, and they collide in the middle of the Lounge, hugging each other tightly, fiercely and elated at being together once again.

"Tus!" He pulls back slightly, his arms still wrapped around his younger brothers shoulders. "Tus, what are you doing here!"

Titus smiles up at him, his arms still wrapped loosely around his older brothers middle. "Nisroc said he wanted to elect me, whatever that means."

"Tus, that's amazing! That means he chose you to be one of his Powers! That you're the best of the best!" He pulls him back in, hugging him tightly, pressing his cheek to the side of his baby brother's head. "I'm so proud of you!"

"So, that means you're going to be a Power too?"

"Mhmm!" They finally pull away, and he looks up when he feels a hand settle around his shoulder, his mentor smiles down at him. "Abe elected me."

"Puri, that's great!" Titus claps his hands lightly, looking up when he feels the Captain step up to stand at his side. "I told you that you could do it! I knew you could!"

"Yea, you were the only one." Puriel looks down for a moment, and he knows his mentor frowns at the implications of that statement, a large hand rubs over his back and long fingers squeeze his shoulder. "Raph doesn't count."

"Everyone else are losers." His older brother looks up and smiles at him, and he smiles in return, turning his gaze to the Power standing at his brother's side. "He treats you right?"

Puriel smiles wider, looking up at his mentor brightly, Abraxos smiles down at him, poking him on the nose lightly. "Abe is great! He let's me have as many sweets as I want and helps me with my studies and lets me sleep with him when I feel bad! He's great!"

"Aww, thank you, platypus, you're not too bad yourself."

Titus narrows his eyes, as though this was the true test, and he ignores the faint chuckles of the Captain at his side. "What's he say about your weight?"

Abraxos hums softly, curling his arm around his Elect's lower back, his fingers digging lightly into his other side. "Yes, Puri, what does _he_ say about your weight?"

Puriel giggles lightly, squirming in his grip, reaching up to curl his fingers in the side of his tunic. "I ahaham beheautifuhuhul and ahamazing and wohonderful just thehe way I aham!"

"Darn right you are."

Nisroc chuckles at them, shaking his head fondly. "You two know each other?"

"He's my big brother!"

"He's my baby brother!"

Abraxos hums softly, wiggling his fingers back in his Elect's side, and Puriel begins to squirm again, swallowing his giggles as he tries to maintain a certain sort of image for his baby brother, and he fails, he knows he does. "Brothers, huh?" He pulls his little Elect closer. "Nis, I wonder if they're _sensitive_ in all the same places."

"That is an interesting inquiry, Abe, perhaps we should check it out."

"Why don't you go show our newest little Elect to his room." Abraxos tugs his elect around to stand before him and leans over to curl his arms around his waist. "I need to _refamiliarize_ myself with my Elect first."

"Abe!"

He tightens his arms around him and straightens out, lifting the small elect from his feet, Puriel struggles, kicking his feet and pushing at his mentor's arms around his waist. "I need some time."

"Abe, no!"

Nisroc chuckles, turning slightly to bend over and scoop up his new little Elect's sword and shield. "Take your time."


	109. Cookies And Tummy Rubs

"Puri, pie?" Nisroc holds the spatula with the pie slice out to the medic, expecting him to holds his plate up, and he blinks in surprise when the younger Power shakes his head. "No, I'm good."

The medic stares down at his plate, those cruel words echoing in his head, he hasn't heard such words since he'd first been elected, and they still cut just as deep now as they had back then. He tried to ignore the feeling of eyes watching him, from his right and his left, across from him, he knew who they belonged to.

Nisroc eyes him for a moment. "Puri, it's cherry pie, with the crumbly topping, just the way you like it, your favorite, are you sure you don't want a piece?"

"I'm sure. I'm not all that hungry." He forces himself to yawn, he's not tired, he just doesn't want to be around all these watchful eyes. "I'm sleepy. I think I'm going to head to bed early tonight." He scoots his chair back, staring down at his lap, keeping his eyes averted from those trying to catch his attention, and stands, pushing his chair back in, he turns in the direction of the hall.

Hasmal watches his back until he disappears into his room and the door closes with a soft click, then turns his attention to his grandmentor, Abraxos takes a bite of the pie on his fork and hums, staring down the hall. "Abe, what's wrong with Puri?"

The older Power swallows his mouthful of pie and sets his fork down. "I have a pretty good idea." He pushes his own chair back, knowing he was needed elsewhere, and looks to his Captain for a moment. "Wrap this up for me?"

"Of course, Abe, go take care of our platypus."

The medic's mentor nods in agreement, patting Titus on the head as he steps around him, that youngster had always been so protective of his big brother, this needed his hand, not his baby brother's. Titus nods lightly, taking a bite of his pie, and thanks him softly as he steps around behind him, and he rubs his hands over his thighs as he makes his way down the hall, stopping at the door across from his, he raises his fist, knocking lightly. "Platypus, I'm coming in."

He doesn't wait for him to respond, he turns the door handle and opens the door, his heart breaking, just as much as it had all that time ago, watching his boy stare down a tap measure he'd wrapped around his belly. "Oh, little platypus, no, don't do that, where did you even find that thing?" He steps forward, pushing the door closed behind him, and crosses around to stand before him, taking in the tears that trail down his cheeks, silent but steady, and reaches out gently to take the tape measure from him.

Balling it up, he stuffs it in his pocket, and tugs him close, curling him in his arms. "Oh, my little one, what happened?" He rubs at the back of his head soothingly. "You haven't measured yourself in years."

Puriel sniffles softly, burying himself into the older Power's shoulder, gripping the back of his tunic tightly. "Abe….Abe did I get bigger?...He said I got bigger…..I'm not bigger, right?"

"Was it Theliel again?"

He doesn't need his boy to nod to know it's who he'd thought it was. He'd known since the moment he'd turned down his most favorite piece of pie who was responsible for it. This was it; his boy had put him with his bullying for years, they'd separated them, kept them apart, and yet he still managed to come back in and make his life a living hell.

"It doesn't matter if you did, you're still just as beautiful as you've always been, I'm going to talk to Nis about this, this has gone on for far too long, I'm putting my foot down."

"Abe, why's he so mean to me?"

He scratches at the back of his head lightly. "I don't know, platypus, I could only guess."

Puriel presses his forehead to his mentor's shoulder. "Abe, I don't wanna go back out there."

"I figured you wouldn't." Abraxos kisses the side of his head fondly. "Why don't we lay down and have a few of those cookies I know you keep in your nightstand."

"I'd like a cookie."

"You deserve a cookie."

The younger Power sniffs softly. "Will you rub my tummy if we lay down?"

"Do you want me to rub your tummy?"

He nods. "Mhmm."

The elder smiles, kissing him on the head again. "Sure, I'll rub your tummy."

"Thanks…." He knows what the young medic is about to say, and it brings a smile to his face, it had been a simple slip up when he'd been a small Elect, only freshly elected, and it still came up sometimes. "Papa." He knows the younger angel is blushing. "You always know how to make me feel better."

Abraxos rubs at his back soothingly. "It's what I'm here for, baby boy." He guides him around. "Let's get all cozied up together."

Puriel nods, uncurling from around his mentor, and climbs up into his bed, reaching under his pillow, he pulls out an old worn stuffed platypus, it had been a gift from his mentor, and he cherished it. He hugs his favorite stuffed toy close, feeling like he had when he was still that small little itty bitty Elect, and not very much like a big tough Power. Abraxos smiles at him, as he squats in front of his nightstand, opens the bottom drawer, and pulls out a package of cookies. Laying down next to him, he opens the package and holds a cookie out to him, waiting for him to take it and take a bite, before picking one up for himself. "Come here, platypus, cuddle in close, and I'll rub your tummy."

The medic nods, sliding in close to his side, pulling his shirt up slightly, his mentor's and is warm when it settles over his tummy and begins to rub soothingly, and he sighs happily, in content, and falls back limply as he takes another bite from his cookie. "T'anks, papa."

It always brings a smile to his face when he calls him that, it's only in private, and it warms his heart every time.

"You're welcome, baby platypus."

He looks up at the elder lightly. "Nis'll save me a piece, right?"

Abraxos smiles down at him, pecking his nose lightly. "He'll save you two."

The medic smiles, settling back down, reaching for another cookie from the package resting on his mentor's belly, and takes another bite. "I love you guys."

"We love you too, baby platypus." He presses another kiss to the top of his head. "So much."


	110. I Hold On

"Maly, are you in the middle of something?"

The fire bender closes the journal he was writing in to look up at the Power who had elected him, shaking his head lightly, he sits up from his laying position, stretching his back, humming in pleasure when it cracks. "No, I'm just writing."

"Sorry for interrupting you, Maly."

He shakes his head. "You didn't interrupt me, I was done anyway, what's wrong?"

Puriel blushes lightly, his cheeks burning amber, and he looks down to his hands. "I was wondering if I could….um…if I could just hold you?"

Hasmal smiles, climbing off his bed, and surprises the Power when he hops up on him, curling his legs around his waist, Puriel stumbles back from the impact and instinctively wraps his arms under him to keep him from falling. "Sure."

The medic smiles at him, curling his arms around him, around his back, trusting in his grip around his waist to keep him from falling off until he wraps his arms back under him, and he hugs him closer, pressing into the side of his neck. Hasmal instinctively giggles softly and raises his shoulder, he's been trained to know burrowing into his neck means nibbles and berries, but none come, the Power just lays there, holding him tightly, and he slowly unwinds, hugging him back just as tightly. "What's wrong, Puri?" He feels dampness cover the side of his neck. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry, baby dragon." He whispers against the side of his neck. "I'm so sorry."

Hasmal frowns slightly, curling his fingers in the Power's tunic. "Sorry for what?"

Puriel inhales a shaky breath. "For letting you go. I should have held on tighter. I shouldn't have been so weak. I shouldn't have let you go so easily."

"What?" He tilts his head slightly, as best as he can with a face pressed against his neck. "I don't understand."

"If I had been stronger, you wouldn't have been taken, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault."

He sighs, understanding, and hugs himself closer, burying his face into the older angel's neck too, curling around him tighter. "It's okay, Puri, I know you didn't want to let go. I know you didn't. Why are you thinking about that?"

"Today's the day, baby dragon, today's the day."

He frowns again, pressing his cheek against the medic's ear. "Don't think about that papa. Don't live in the past. Live here, with me, in the now."

Hasmal sighs when he feels more tears soak into his neck. "Why are you crying _now_?"

Puriel squeaks softly, his tears mixing with his words, and he just barely makes out what he says. "You called me _'papa'_."

He smiles lightly, hugging him tighter again, nipping at his ear lightly until the medic pulls away from his neck to look at him as he had silently requested. The younger angel smiles at the medic, pressing their foreheads together, and licks the tip of his nose slightly, it's salty from the tears. "Well, you've always been sort of like a papa to me, I mean, what with the taking care of me and letting me sleep with you when I have nightmares and always making time for me even when you're really busy."

The Power inhales deeply, in an attempt to put a cap on his tears, and smiles at him, pecking him on the nose lightly. "I—I've always loved you like—like—"

"Like Tus loves Sora?"

He nods lightly. "Yea, like that."

"I've always loved you like Sora loves Tus."

Puriel smiles at him, nudging his cheek with his nose, and reaches up with his right hand to wipe at his cheeks, cleaning up the tear trails. "Baby dragon, is it okay if I just hold you for a bit?"

He nods, hugging himself close again, and rubs their cheeks together. "Yea, it's okay."


	111. Never Alone

They watched in silence as their Captain carried him up the stairs to the Infirmary, where the Healer and Egyptian waited for him, to prepare their lost brother for his pyre, his hands hung limply at the oldest Power's side, his blonde head tucked against his shoulder, one might mistaken him for sleeping had they not been there to witness it for themselves.

Nisroc maintained a stony presence, keeping his expression neutral as he passed their fallen brother to the Healer, and Raphael bowed his head, turning into his Infirmary with their fallen comrade. Anubis uttered something, in his native language, and made a gesture with his hands, before turning to follow after his elder, to prepare the body for the send off in the next three days, three days that would go by much too quick and much too slow, all at once.

It was an odd occurrence, where the Egyptian was called upon to prepare them for their send off, it was usually something that was given to Azrael, as was his duty, but the Archangel of Death had thrown a fit and sealed himself in the Throne Room with their Father the moment word had made it's way home that there had been a fatal blow drawn against one of their own.

Sablo tries to catch his eye when he descends the stairs, clutching at his brother's hand, it had been for him the blow had been taken, the one that took him from them, it had made his sacrifice to save his life, and in doing so, had given his own.

He bows his head silently, when he finally catches a quick glimpse of those steely eyes, they bore into his for a moment before leaving, looking ahead once more, and their Captain brushes passed him without a word, making his way in the direction of their home. The others watch him go for a moment, and then their attention turns to their youngest member, Sablo inhales a deep shaky breath and squeezes his brother's hand, Rahatiel glares at them all until they look away, and the elder guides him around, guiding him down the path towards their home, in their Captain's wake.

The guilt weighs heavily on his heart, he knows he was chosen to replace the second oldest Power, but he'd never thought it would be so soon, he'd been an official Power for less then a year, he wasn't prepared to take his place yet, he was still working things out, he still made too many mistakes, still had so much to learn. He'd barely just got used to calling him _'papa'_ without his older brother urging him to, he'd just started opening up to the man, getting passed his shyness when it came to spending time with him. He should have been smarter, should have been better, he was a _Power_ for God's sake, he shouldn't have been so _vulnerable_.

The others tiptoe around him, it's as if he's cursed, plagued, and they don't want to catch it. Perhaps their Captain's ire is a plague, and he's been infected, he'd been prepared for the blow, readied himself for it, and then _he'd_ been there, standing in front of him, their eyes staring at each other, and then the light faded from the blue that bore into his brown. Chayyliel had retreated from him for a while, he was truly cursed, his older brother was the only one who stood by him, always holding his hand, squeezing reassuringly.

He was plagued.

Standing in the middle of his room, it feels so empty, he simply looks around, at the items strewn about, the book resting on the nightstand that he was in the midst of reading, the half empty glass of water sitting next to it, the basket of laundry that still needed to be put away, the hamper of dirty clothes that needed washed, the mess of clutter that would have been put away and cleaned up come the weekend. He can feel his other half in the doorway, he knows when he appears, and his hands shake as he leans over to pick up the basket of clean clothes, and sets it on the bed, as he reaches for the first shirt, and folds it neatly, just how Abe liked it.

"Little brother, what are you doing?" He feels Rahatiel come up behind him, watching him fold the second shirt silently with his shaking hands. "Why are you folding his laundry?"

"Because….Because he'll be upset that it's all crinkled when he gets back."

"Little brother—"

"He'll be back, big brother, he'll be back and he'll be upset by the wrinkles."

"Little brother, he's not coming back." Rahatiel reaches around him and lifts the folded shirt from his hands, Sablo stares at his shaking hands, breathing picking up softly. "He's not coming back."

"Why?" He turns, looking up at his older brother with teary eyes. "Why? You came back? Father brought you back, why not him? Why'd he save me, Raha? Why'd he do that? They all hate me now! It should have been me, not him, it should have been me!"

"Don't say that, Sab, you know he'd never let you come to harm if he could help it, he loved you too much."

"It should have been _me_ , Raha!" He finally breaks, that damn that had been cracking since the day before finally cracking under the pressure, and tears cascade down his cheeks. "It _should_ have been _me!"_

Rahatiel doesn't say anything, he knows no words he speaks will get through to him, he merely curls him in his arms, pulling him in close, because if no one else would, then he would do it, he would hold him while he broke.

…

Azrael still hadn't come out of the Throne Room when it came time to set him on the pyre, he wasn't the one to deliver last rites, it was his Egyptian counterpart who filled the role in his absence.

Sablo holds in his tears as he carries the board on his shoulders, his mentor's hand is right there, right next to him, he can see the glinting of the sun off the gold bands he wears around his fingers, he stares at it, willing it to move, to give any indication of life, he's not ready for this, he's not ready to replace him yet. But the hand doesn't move, it just lays there, limp against the board, and before he knows it, they're sliding it up on the pyre's bed. He steps back with the others, standing between Puriel and Rahatiel, his brother slips his hand into his own, squeezing firmly, comfortingly, as their Commander speaks. With every word he says, he can feel his eyes on him, their cut into him like knives, and he looks down to his feet, staring at his boots.

The only one who's even offered him comfort in these last three days is the one holding his hand, Rahatiel had been with him from the very moment it happened, the others avoided him, they skirted around him, even Puriel, they pretended he wasn't there. When he came into the room, the conversations hushed, when he sat at the table, they scooted away from him, it was as if he was sick. He had a contagious disease that would contaminate them if they got too close. Rahatiel sat next to him at meals, he served him, when the others didn't move to do so, he held him when he broke in the middle of the night.

He'd been there the moment he felt the smooth slice of a blade on his wrist. He hadn't done it in years. He'd broken that streak.

He was an outcast now, shunned, contagious, death loomed over him like an unwanted storm cloud.

The pyre's lit, Hasmal looks so sad, and it's all his fault.

Nisroc steps around the blazing pyre, coming to stand before him, and he looks up, hesitantly, to meet his eyes. "His death rests on your shoulders. Had you not been so blind, he would still be here with us, it is because of you he is not."

…

It's three days later that Rahatiel finally snaps, after catching him in the middle of his task, trying to deny what he had been doing despite the red blood dripping down his fingers and the sting he knows his counterpart can feel just as clearly as he can, he corners them all in the Lounge, but his irritation is directed to their Captain, the reason for the ostracization. "He would be ashamed of you!"

"Raha—"

"He would be _ashamed_ of you!" He barks out harshly, thrusting a finger into the taller Power's chest, his anger was a sight to behold, his anger was like his mentor's, once it boiled over, it was like lava rolling down the sides of a volcano. "He made his decision, _he_ made the decision to jump in for Sab, _him_ , and he made that decision because he loved his protégé with all his heart, _and_ because he knew you'd take care of him in the wake of his passing! He would be _ashamed!_ "

Nisroc steps forward, threateningly, but the younger Power isn't fazed, he steps forward too, meeting him half way, and opens his arms slightly as though to say _'what are you going to do?'_. "He's the reason _he's_ dead!"

"He's the reason _he lived!_ " He shouts right back. "Abe lost _all_ of us! Only _one_ out of _three_ of his Elects fulfilled what he claimed them for! When he chose Sab, it gave him reason again, it gave him _hope_! No one _makes_ us do anything, Abe _made_ the decision _himself_ , Sab _couldn't_ make him do anything, unless you think him to be _weak_!"

"I would never—"

"He would be _ashamed_ of you!" He looks to the ones behind their Captain. "He would be _ashamed_ of you _all_! Some _family_ this is! You're _Captain_ ," he spits as his eyes turn back to the oldest. "Dies and everyone bands together, but your second dies, _saving_ someone he _loved_ with all his heart, and you _shun_ him! He would be _ashamed!_ You're all a _disgrace,_ you're all _shameful,_ he would be so _ashamed_!" He thrusts a finger back in their Captain's chest harshly. "You better get your head out of your _ass_ before you _lose_ them both! Unless that's what you're hoping, that's what you want, isn't it, eye for an eye, right? You think Sab killed Abe, life for a life, if you lose him, you lose me, Abe will perish all over again, and _all_ three lives would be on _your_ hands." He throws one last glance around, when he feels the sting on his wrist, turning slightly. "Abe would be so _ashamed_ of you all."

…

Sablo hears the door open in the middle of the night, and he mumbles softly, rubbing his eyes with a bandaged fist as light pours into his room, his mentor's room, he's slept in here since his passing, he's kept it tidy, cleaned up the clutter, hung his clean clothes, made sure everything was kept in perfect order. He rubs his eyes again when a shape moves in the darkness, sitting up slightly in bed, he feels his brother draw nearer, sees him stand in the doorway, and he blinks as the dark shape takes form as it draws closer, and blinks again. "A—Abe?"

"Hello, starfish." _He_ smiles at him softly, reaching out to brush his hair back behind his ear, reaching for his left arm gently. "I am _so_ sorry." He presses his lips to his bandaged wrist. "I am so, _so,_ sorry."

"Papa?" His voice breaks lightly, he sounds much younger then he wants to, but he can't help it, he feels about as small as a fledgling as he stares into those familiar blue eyes. "W—What? But…But I watched….You..You _died_!"

"I did." The second oldest Power nods lightly, standing slightly to sit on the edge of the bed next to him, holding his arm in his lap. "You burned a vessel. I was already with Father in the Throne Room. Azrael threw a fit, Death is on…Well….A vacation….And left Azrael in charge. He threw a fit and refused to reap me. Father had no choice but to send me back."

"You're…You're back?" He blinks again. "For good?"

"I'm not going anywhere, starfish, I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

Sablo tears up slightly. "Why'd you do it, papa? Why'd you do it? It should have been me; it should have been me, papa! Everyone hates me now, everyone ignores me, they pretend I don't exist!"

"I know, little starfish, papa knows, and he'll take care of that after he takes care of you. I would never willingly let harm come to you if I can stop it, I would give my life for yours ten times over, one hundred times over, an eternity times over, if it meant protecting you." Abraxos nods firmly. "I'm to go before you do, not the other way around." Sablo's eyes widen so he amends. "Not any time soon though."

The second oldest Power turns towards the door. "Go get Chayy, Raha, let's all get some sleep."

Their second youngest Power nods, turning away from them, he disappears down the hall. Abraxos turns back to the youngest, kissing his wrist again. "We'll talk about this come morning."

"I'm sorry, papa, I was weak, I couldn't…I couldn't help it."

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." He climbs in next to him, pulling him up against his side, resting his head on his chest. "Nothing at all."

…

"I'm deeply disappointed in you, Puriel." Where they had once been tiptoeing around the youngest Power, they were now tiptoeing around the second oldest, Abraxos' rage was palpable, he wasn't sparring anyone in his tirade of vengeance. He'd made Haniel cry, he felt bad for making him cry, but watching Rahatiel wrap new bandages around the youngest Power's wrist had steeled his resolve, they'd driven his young charge to his breaking point, ones he'd been told countless times he was supposed to be able to trust, they'd betrayed him. He was livid. "You turned your back on your youngest brother when he needed you most."

"I'm sorry, papa! I'm sorry!" Puriel steps forward, as though for a hug, and he shakes his head, taking a step back, tears make the medic's eyes glisten. "Papa, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, papa! I was scared! Nis was so mad! I didn't want him to be mad at me too!"

"So you what, thought to throw your youngest brother to the wind in favor of keeping Nisroc's favor?"

He nods ashamedly. "I did! I did, papa, and I'm sorry! I'd take it back if I could! I was wrong!"

Abraxos nods firmly. "Damn right you were, I taught you better then that, you were selfish and self-absorbed, not once putting his feelings above your own, I had trusted you to take care of him when I am gone, and now I can clearly see that my trust was misplaced."

The medic shakes his head feverishly, stepping forward again, tears dripping down his cheeks when his mentor takes another step back. "No! No, you can trust me, papa! You can! I swear you can! I messed up, I know I messed up, I'm sorry papa! Please forgive me, papa, please, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!"

The second oldest Power eyes him contemplatively, he understands not wanting Nisroc's ire to be turned on oneself, he understands the need for self-preservation, but he also understands the consequences that had come from such callous behavior. "No sweets for two months—"

" _Two!"_

His glare silences any complaints before they can be voiced. "No sweets for _two_ months. You are grounded to your quarters for the duration of those two months, you may come out to complete your duties, and as soon as those are completed, you return there, you may come out for the bathroom, and then you will return."

"Wh—What about supper?"

"Supper will be served to you in your room."

Puriel nods feverishly, stepping forward again, he really wants a hug, he wants his mentor to hold him, he though he'd lost him forever. Abraxos shakes his head and raises a hand, staying him in his tracks, and the medic whines softly, a fresh wave of tears dripping from his eyes. "You are to be in bed by ten, I don't care how long it takes you to fall asleep, but you will be in bed by ten. I will check on you, at ten on the dot, and if you are not in bed, we will add another day to your grounding, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, papa!" He nods again, this time he doesn't step forward, he takes his loss with tears. "Yes, I understand!"

"Good," he finally opens his arms, and the medic surges forward, curling around his mentor tightly. "I'm so sorry, papa, I'm sorry! Please forgive me! Please! I missed you so much! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I know, sshhh, sshhh." Abraxos pets the back of his head, running his fingers down the back of his neck soothingly. "Papa's got you, I'm right here, you're alright." He tilts his head slightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I forgive you, platypus, I know you didn't mean to hurt him, I know you didn't."

He'd offered Titus comfort, he couldn't place blame on him, retreating from everyone was how he dealt with his grief, everyone deals with it differently, he knows that. He hadn't left Sablo alone for the same reason the others had, he'd been grieving in his own way, and that wasn't something he could fault him for.

…

"Papa! Papa, stop! Hurts! It hurts!"

His cries break his heart, and he knows it destroys Rahatiel as he holds him still so he can clean the nasty gashes on his wrists, he coos softly, dabbing at the last one. "Sshh, it's alright, I'm almost done, just a moment longer." He finishes dabbing at the last one and turns for the bandages next to him, binding them around his right arm, he sets the bottle and rag on his bedside table and reaches out for him. "Come here, come to papa, come here."

Sablo falls forward, into his arms, and he pulls him close, pressing his lips to the side of his head. "You did so good, little starfish, papa's so proud of you." He scoots back against his pillows and he pulls the young baby Power back with him, settling him back against his chest, curling his arms around him, settling him between his legs. Rahatiel pulls the blankets up over them and settles in against his side, he uncurls his left arm from around the younger and curls it around the older, pulling him in close. "We don't need to do that again for another day, we're all done."

The youth sniffles softly, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. "Promise?"

"I promise, no more, now we just lay back and relax, perhaps we can take a nap, how does that sound, starfish, are you feeling for a nap?"

"Hold me, papa?"

"Of course, I'll hold you, baby starfish." He squeezes him lightly. "I'll hold you real close." Abraxos' squeezes his hip lightly. "You just relax back and calm yourself down, papa's here, big brother's here," Rahatiel reaches over to rub his arm lightly. "Let's all settle down and take a nap, how's that sound, just the three of us."

"Papa, will you make your yummy spicy chicken for supper?"

He smiles, kissing the side of his head again. "Of course, I will."

"Okay," Sablo settles back, reaching out for one of his big brother's hands, Raha catches his hand and squeezes his fingers lightly, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I think I want to take a nap."

The older Power kisses the side of his head again. "I think that's a marvelous idea."

…

Abraxos smiles down at him, laying over his waist, fingers poised up under his top. "Little rabbit, it's been far too long since I've had you in this position."

Rahatiel giggles up at him, squirming slightly from side to side, and falls still when he comes to the realization that he's not going anywhere. "I cohohould have wahahaited a bit lohonger."

"Oh, but this time it's special." He turns to look at the giggling angel next to them, Sablo smiles up at him, a giggly little angel, and he smiles down at him in return. "This time it's a two for one special." He turns his attention back to the one under him. "I want to see just how this bond of yours works." He wiggles his index fingers over his highest rib, Rahatiel squeaks and giggles harder, twisting from side to side, and he looks over to see Sablo, the youngest Power shrieks, the ribs are one of his special spots. "You feel that too, starfish?" Sablo nods vigorously, rubbing at his ribs desperately. "Interesting." The second oldest Power pulls one hand out from under his older Elect's shirt and reaches over to the youngest, sliding his fingers up under the waist of his trousers, clawing his fingers into the sensitive skin under there, this is one of the elders special spots. Sablo shrieks softly and arches his back, and Rahatiel squeals softly, bucking his hips from side to side. He looks back to the older of the two. "You feel that too, rabbit?"

"Yehehehheeessss!"

"Pahahahahhahaappaaahahahhahahaha!"

"Oh, I can already tell this is going to be fun." He turns back to the one under him, Rahatiel giggles feverishly and shakes his head, and he winks down at him playfully. "All I need is _one_ of you, and with one of you, I get _both_ of you."

"Nohohoho!"

"Pahahhahaapppaahahahahaha nohohoho!"

"Let's investigate this further." He pulls his hand back, and gently pushes the elder boy's shirt up, his belly shakes as he giggles, and he smiles, looking down at the spot. "This belly's missed out on a lot of loving." He lowers his head, pressing a playful kiss over his belly button, and Rahatiel shrieks softly. Sablo giggles harder and covers his belly with his hands, shaking his head at the older Power, Abraxos smiles down at him, as he takes a deep breath, and buries his face into his brother's belly.

They both squeal loudly when he blows out a massive raspberry, and he chuckles softly, taking another deep breath and blowing again. Rahatiel arches his back as he cackles brightly, and Sablo squeals, jolting beside him, curling his arms around his belly, as though that would aid him.

Things have been much too solemn for his taste.

…

"I am ashamed of you." There were very few people who could bring the mighty Captain of the Powers, Commander of Heaven's Armies, to his knees, but his younger brother's disappointment and anger was one of those few things. "I am _ashamed_."

Nisroc bows his head to his younger brother's anger, he knows it's well placed, he'd truly messed things up.

"Is this what I am to expect to happen should I pass before you?" Abraxos steps forward and he takes a step back. "You shun the one who I _chose_ to replace me?"

"I'm sorry, Abe, I'm sorry." He mumbles softly, looking down to his feet, not wanting to see the disappointment in the younger Power's eyes. "I was just so upset."

"And you took it out on one of the one's I consider to be a _son_ , that would make him your _nephew_ , you did that to your own _family_." Abraxos shakes his head. "I don't think I can forgive you for this."

The Captain looks up at him with wide eyes. "Please, Abe, please, I'll do anything for your forgiveness."

"Fine, anything," the second oldest Power crosses his arms tightly. "I want you to go to Michael, and I want you to tell him what you did, and I want you to go through whatever punishment he deems this crime deserves." He stares him down heatedly. "Then, I want you to be the one to clean the deep gashes _you_ dug into his wrists, you can listen to him as he sobs from how much the disinfectant stings, I want you to _see_ what your callous actions _did_." He jabs him in the chest. "And, when you get _his_ forgiveness, and _only_ then, will you gain _mine_."


	112. The Tickle Monsters

Hasmal giggled endlessly as he watched the wiggling fingers circle over top of him slowly with wide attentive eyes, one brother straddling his waist to keep him from sitting up, and another brother holding his arms above his head to keep his attacker free from obstructions.

"I'm gonna get you, Maly." His older brother teased him as his hands slowly started lowering towards his bare quivering belly. "I'm gonna get you."

He shakes his head frantically, his giggles picking up in quantity as the fingers draw closer and closer, his older brothers chuckling fondly at his reaction. Hasmal throws his head back, pressing his head back into the pillow, arching his back, when the fingers finally make contact. Wiggling and spidering all around his belly, his older brothers laughing softly with him, enjoying the shine that came to his eyes and the laughter that flowed from him like water down a stream.

Nisroc bends over him, poking his fingers into the sides of his belly, smiling at his bright bubbly laughter. "Tickle, tickle, tickle, baby Maly." He shares a chuckle with his other capturer when he manages to make him squeal, clawing a hand over the middle of his belly, wiggling his fingers in, and vibrating his hand, it drives the younger Power up the wall. "Coochie, coochie coo, baby Maly."

"It's no fun just holding him down," Titus adjusts his grip on his arms above his head, gripping both of his wrists with one hand, he reaches down to wiggle a finger into one underarm, smiling at the shriek that it pulls from the younger angel, and then jumps to the other. Hasmal shakes his head frantically from side to side, shrieking with laughter, his legs kicking behind his oldest brother.

…

Haniel squealed, before anything even happened, when he heard his older brother take a dramatically deep breath, bracing himself for what's about to come. He's captive between his older brothers legs, his arms curled around his midsection, under his arms, keeping him trapped back against the edge of the bed. He shrieks when his brother adjusts his position, rubbing his beard into his neck, and squeals again when he finally blows that vicious raspberry that he's been holding onto. He grips his brothers knees, arms outstretched, and his fingers curl in deeply when he nuzzles into his neck again.

Titus chuckles at him, kneeling in front of him, poking him in the belly repetitively, keeping an ever flowing bout of giggles erupting from him at all times.

He hadn't even done anything to them, this time, they'd just come in, smiling in that manner that he knew to send chills down his spine, and wrestled him down in this position.

…

Puriel screams with laughter, pounding his fists against the mattress of his bed, as his two older brothers dig relentlessly into the meat of his thighs, spidering their fingers over the underside of his thighs, before returning to the inner portion, digging, and squeezing, and spidering fingers all over. His older brothers sitting on the edge of his beds, one leg curled in front of them, one of his legs curled under one arm in restraint, as they tormented his sensitive thighs.

"MEHEHEAHAHAHHAERCY! MEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHEAHHEAERCY!"

"No mercy for you, little brother."

"Indeed, our dear little brother needs reminded on who the _real_ tickle monsters here are."

…

"N-Now guys..." He waves his hands at them placatingly as he backs away from them slowly. "L-Let's talk about this..."

"Oh, Abey, there's nothing to talk about."

"We just want to hear some of your sweet laughter."

The quiet Power backs up another step as his older brothers slowly gain on him, yelping when his back hits the wall behind him, they've cornered him in the hall. Nisroc and Titus smile at him, he doesn't think he likes that smile, it's a conniving smile, and it sends chills down his spine to see it on both of their faces.

"No where else to go now, little Abe."

"I guess you could say you're stuck between a rock and a hard place now."

Abraxos looks caught between succumbing to his fate and whether or not he could break through between them and make a run for it. He tries for the latter, trying to jump forward, between the two older Powers, they laugh at his attempt, catching him by the wrists, the shove him back against the wall with a hand on each shoulder. His arms braced above his head, he looks between his older brothers with wide eyes, smiling at them in anticipation. They smile back at him, both leaning forward to kiss his cheeks, and he snorts as he shakes his head.

His older brothers chuckle lightly in amusement.

"Aww, does baby Abe still get all flustered when you kiss his cheeks." Nisroc chuckles, turning to look at his brother next to him, Titus rubs his nose against the younger Power's cheek and turns to meet his older brothers gaze. "Should we do it again?" He nods lightly. "I think we should."

Abraxas shakes his head again, smiling despite himself, whining softly. "Guuuuys!

"What?" Nisroc smiles at him lightly. "You don't want us to kiss your cheeks?"

Titus chuckles as he leans back. "How about this then?" He digs the fingers of his free hand into his side, Abraxos shrieks in surprise, jumping away from his fingers. Their older brother hums next to him. "I think I like that." He digs his fingers into his other side and Abraxos shrieks with bright laughter.

…

They sit on either side of her, smiling as she giggles, poking her in the belly repeatedly. Abraxas curls her arms around herself as much as she can, but they manage to find cracks in her defensive measures, and continue to poke her in the belly.

"Hey, baby girl."

She smiles up at him, her eyes shining with happiness and giggles. "Hi, Grizzly Bear."

"Hey, cutie."

She turns to her other big brother. "Hi, Tus."

Nisroc smiles down at her when she manages to curl her fingers around his wrist. "We love you so much." Titus shares his smile, lifting her arm up and away, when she manages to curl her fingers around his wrist as well. "We adore you, baby girl." He wiggles the fingers of his free hand in the side of her belly, and she shrieks, jumping away from him as bubbly laughter fills the room. Their oldest brother smiles, humming under his breath. "Good idea." And wiggles the fingers of his free hand into the other side of her belly. "Nohohohoho!"

"Coochie coochie coo, baby bear."

…

Sablo squirms from side to side, shrieking with laughter, tugging desperately at the captivity of his arms curled behind his back, as fingers race over his sides playfully. Nisroc always takes his opportunities to torture him, whenever they arise, and he presses back against his other big brother in an attempt to escape the fingers. He hasn't met this one yet, this is their first meeting, but he likes him.

Titus is nice, playful, like Nis is, and really quiet.

"It's nice to meet you, little Sablo." He whispers into his ear, and then he feels him bend slightly, his breath against his neck softly, and shrieks brightly when he buries his face in.

…

Titus backs away from what had once been his partner in crime, hands held out defensively, shaking his head slowly. "Nis, no, we were in this together!"

The older Power advances slowly. "I apologize for deceiving you. Your turn was always coming. I just waited until I had no need of you anymore."

"So, I'm worthless now!"

"Oh, baby brother, you are far from worthless."

He backs into the side of a desk and holds his hands up higher.

"Your time has come." Nisroc smiles at him, evading his attempts at blocking him, and lifts him slightly by the waist, pushing him over the edge of the desk until he was laid on his back. Titus stared up at him with wide eyes as he stepped up between his legs, shaking his head slowly when he felt fingers curl into his inner thighs, and inhaled at the smile that crossed his brother's features. "I will miss you dearly."

He unashamedly squeals when the fingers dig in.

…

He was not one to take betrayal sitting down.

Though perhaps bringing _him_ into their schemes was cheating.

But as he walked into the Lounge, spotting his older brother sitting between the archangel's legs, howling with laughter as fingers assaulted his ribs, he only smirked smugly and kept walking.

Nis could talk as much as he wanted, but they all knew who the real tickle monster was in this family of theirs, and he was digging his claws into their Captain with the skill that came with experience.


	113. Unexpected Surprises

Once Hasmal and Haniel were asleep, and he was sure they were deep asleep and that they weren't going to wake up when he moved, he climbed out of the bed, tucking the blanket around them both snugly, he made his leave, there was more he had to take care of.

His next stop was right across the hall.

Pushing the door open slightly, he peeks inside, frowning lightly at the sight in the bed, the mound under the blankets on the bed, turning down the hall real quick, he makes himself up another bowl of stew and returns to the door, pushing it open with his free hand. Stepping into the room, he closes the door behind him and makes for the bed.

Sitting on the edge, he pulls the covers down lightly, and runs his fingers through those wild curls. Familiar curls, he missed doing this, he's never taking it for granted again.

The mound on the bed stirs lightly.

"Come on, baby bear, it's time to wake up."

"Mmm…." He turns, rubbing at his eyes, he sits up slightly. "Mmm….." His eyes flutter open. "….Nis?..."

He smiles at the young Power. "Hey, baby bear."

Sablo blinks at him, rubbing his eyes again, and when he opens his mouth to say something else, the Captain pushes a spoonful of stew in. The young angel's eyes go wide as he chews on his mouthful of stew, staring at the Captain in awe and alarm. He opens his mouth again, most probably to say something, but he pushes another spoon of stew into his mouth, his wide eyes narrow slightly, as he's forced to chew again.

Nisroc smiles slightly, waving the spoon at him. "You need to fill that belly."

He ducks under the next spoonful. "Am I dreaming?"

The Power chuckles lightly, reaching out, he pinches him slightly on the arm.

Sablo jolts, glaring at him as he rubs at his pinched arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"To show you you're not dreaming." He holds out another spoonful of stew. "Open up." The youth opens his mouth, taking another bite of the stew, it was delicious, he loved his oldest brother's cooking. The younger Power ducks another spoonful. "But…But I watched you _burn!_ I helped carry you! I was _there_! I watched you _die_!"

"And, I regret that you did." He sets the bowl down to rest in his lap for a moment, oh, he'd get the boy to finish it just as he had gotten Haniel to finish his. "I wouldn't want you to have to witness that, bambino, and I am sorry that you did."

"So….Are you here to stay?"

He smiles at the boy. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be by your side for some time to come." He holds up the spoon. "Have another bite."

Sablo nods, opening his mouth for another bite, and stares at him as he chews, then he swallows, and continues. "I thought you were gone, Nis, I thought I'd never see you again."

"I know, bambino, I know you did." He has him take the last bite and sets the bowl aside on the bedside table. "Come here, give me a hug."

The young, baby Power crawls out from under his blankets and into the oldest Power's lap, Nisroc curls around him, pressing him against his shoulder, tucking him under his chin. He clutches to him, as though he might disappear if he let go, and he feels his tears soak into the front of his tunic. "There, there, baby bear, it's okay. Everything's alright." He rubs the young angels back soothingly, small soothing circles, and hums under his breath. Sablo presses closer, mumbling incoherently into his chest, and clutches on tighter. "I know, I know bambino, but I'm here, I'm back, and I'm not leaving again, not for a very long time."

He looks up at him with bloodshot, teary eyes. "S—Swear?"

The Captain nods. "I swear." He turns them around in bed, he'd finished his bowl of stew, it was time to put him back to bed. "I swear I'm never leaving you again. Not for a very long time." He settles them back against the pillows. "Go back to sleep, baby bear, I'm right here."

The young angel cuddles closer, heaving a great sigh, and falls silent, his breathing evening out slowly but surely. He smiles down at the peaceful faced Baby Power, rubbing the tear tracks away with a gentle thumb, he's red faced, but he's sleeping, and that's all that matters.


	114. Puppy's First Birthday

He decided, a few days after they had taken in the small abandoned puppy, that they would have a celebration for him, something to make it official, he was a member of their family. He didn't know when the puppy's birthday was, he doubted that the puppy knew himself, and everyone needed to have a birthday to celebrate. So, he made up the date, and planned a surprise of a life time.

That poor little fluff ball needed all the love and affection he could get. He needed to be shown that a true family doesn't abandon you when it's inconvenient to have you around. Era had been down with the idea at first mention, before returning to playing with his new puppy companion, so that left him with the set up while Era played as the distraction.

Telling his brothers had been easy, they hadn't met the little puppy yet, but he knew they'd love him.

His birthday was set for the sixteenth of July, and when he woke that morning, he smiled down at the puppy stretched out on his chest, his beloved stuffed bear curled under his front legs, and he reaches up softly to scratch a finger down the back of his head. It was a Sunday, a free day, and they'd slept in well past ten that morning.

Bright blue eyes blink open, and he smiles again, reaching his finger around to scratch behind one of those tiny ears. "Good morning, puppy."

The little thing gives a big yawn, licking at the side of his bears head lightly. _'Good morning, Nis.'_

"Puppy, you've been here nearly a week and I still haven't gotten your name."

The dalmatian puppy rolls over onto it's belly. _'My old family called me Milo.'_

"I see, do you want to keep the name they gave you, or start over with a new one?"

' _I can have a new name?'_

He nods lightly, poking the puppy on the tip of the nose. "Of course, you can."

The puppy is silent for a long moment, licking at his left front paw, nipping at the man's finger when he pokes him on the nose again. _'I want a new name. From my new family.'_

"Alright," he hums as he thinks. "What about _'Spot'_?"

' _I like that name! And, I'm covered in spots!'_

The Power chuckles lightly. "Yes, you are." He rubs his hand down the puppy's back. "How about some breakfast?" Spot barks brightly, rising to his feet, tailing wagging excitedly, and he laughs softly. "I thought you'd like that suggestion." He sits up slightly, lifting the puppy off his chest with his right hand, and his bear with his left, and nudges the larger hound snoring softly between his legs. Erathaol snorts softly, flipping over, blinking quickly at his sudden call to wakefulness. "Time for breakfast, Era." The large hound barks softly and climbs to his feet, stretching first, before he turns to hop off the bed. Era knows what today is. He climbs out of bed to follow the older hound of out of room and down for the dining area, where they're bowls sat. He sets the puppy down in front of his bowl, leaning his bear up beside it for him, easy access for when he finished breakfast, the newly proclaimed _'Spot'_ took that bear everywhere.

He makes up Era's bowl first, chicken and bits, and then he moves to Spot's bowl, steak, medium rare, mixed with some gravy to keep it moist. "Steak for the special day."

He sets the bowl down, and Spot sniffs it, looking up at him curiously. _'Steak?'_ He tilts his head. _'Special day?'_

"It's your birthday, Spot!" He squats, scratching at his head softly. "It's a special day!"

' _My birthday!'_ The puppy bounces around, licking a piece of steak. _'My old family never let me have steak before!'_

"Well, you have a new family now, and we have steak on all special occasions."

He smiles as the puppy gobbles up his special breakfast, he cut the steak pieces small, easy for puppy mouths to enjoy. He fills a bowl of water for both of them and waits as they lap it down, then give themselves a small bath after a filling morning meal.

Nisroc smiles when both hounds look up at him, and he kneels, scooping the fed puppy up, and his bear, and stands. "Era, you go tell the other's we're done. We'll go take a quick bath and meet you all in the Lounge."

Era barks firmly and trots off, the others are all out, but they'll be back by the time their bath is finished.

Spot licks his snout and looks up at him, smacking his lips happily. _'Bath?'_

The Captain nods lightly. "A bath, we don't want to be dirty on our big day, do we?"

Spot barks brightly, pawing at his chest lightly, and he chuckles, scratching at the puppy's chest with a finger. He carries him down the hall for the washroom, where he has a bucket of warm water and soap already set up, a warm fluffy towel, and Spot's first present. He sets the puppy and his bear down beside the bucket, Spot sits for him when he asks, and he reaches around his neck for the clasp of his collar. "Let's get this old thing off." He undoes the latch and pulls it free, pulling it away from the puppy, he tosses it aside. "Alright, let's get you into the bath." He's thankful that he went without a tunic, sticking with just a vest, when the puppy kicks at the water and it splashes around. "Is it too warm?"

' _No, it's just right!'_

"Good." He sets about cleaning him up, it doesn't take long, he's a small puppy, and soon enough he's lifting him out of the water and setting him back on the table, rubbing him gently with the towel to dry him off, Spot licks his fingers as he dries his head gently. "Time for your first gift."

' _I am getting gifts!'_

"Of course, you are, what kind of birthday would it be without gifts?" He reaches for the small bowed box beside them and pulls the lid off, reaching in, he pulls out a new collar. Leather, dark leather, with two silver tags. Spot sniffs the new collar lightly, one of his ears flopping over as he turns to look up at the man, Nisroc smiles down at him. "This is your new collar. From your new family." He shows him one tag. "This is your name." And then the other. "And this is your family's emblem. You belong here. We are your home now."

' _New family!'_ The puppy sits, batting at one of his hands, indicating that he wants him to put the new collar on. Nisroc smiles, slipping the loose end out, he curls the collar around the puppy's neck and links it together. _'I love it!'_

'I'm happy, it's a special collar, there's magic ingrained in the leather." Spot tilts his head, so he continues. "Era is an angel hound, he has a dog form, he prefers his dog form, but he also has a humanoid form." He taps the collar lightly. "I ingrained a bit of my power into the leather when I fashioned the collar, it'll help you change forms, to keep up with Era."

' _I can be a boy too?'_ Spot huffs and tilts his head to the side. _'But I am a puppy.'_

"You can be both," he scratches at the puppy's ear lightly. "In your mind, picture yourself as a boy, what you would look like, focus on yourself being a boy, and will it to happen."

Spot nods, huffing softly, he closes his eyes as though to focus just as he was told. He almost gives up, when he warms suddenly, he feels different, lighter, and then the world's changed. Tentatively he opens an eye, peering up at the man, and he feels something in him break when he doesn't feel any different then how he usually feels. He failed. Nis had made him this special collar and he failed.

"Spot, you didn't fail." Large gentle hands curl around his wrists and pull his arms out, and he stares at his _hands_ , little tiny _fingers_. He slowly flexes his fingers, turning his hands over in the man's large ones, flexing his fingers again. "You did it! You didn't fail." He looks down even further to his _feet_ , he smiles as he wiggles his _toes,_ and he pulls his hands out of Nis's to feel himself. He presses his hands over his head and frowns. "But I did." He blinks, was that him, is that what he sounds like, he sounds really little. "I still have puppy ears."

"You do," the man chuckles, scratching at one of his ears. "But it's cute. Era had the same problem when he changed for the first time, it was usually the ears, but sometimes he still had a tail too." He reaches back into the box and pulls out a pair of shorts, knee high trousers, small enough for a fledgling. "Let's put you into these and then we can join the others for the party."

"A party?"

"A birthday party, of course."

Nis helps him into the pants, he's still getting used to having two legs, he's only had them for maybe two minutes. "Can I walk?"

"How about I carry out," he's handed his bear, and he hugs it to his side, as he's lifted off the table and settled onto the man's hip. "Walking on two legs for the first time isn't going to be very easy. We'll learn that another day, today is for fun and enjoyment, I'll carry you around for today."

He carries him out of the washroom and back down the hall, he can hear talking from where they are, the others, he hasn't met the others yet, and he ducks down into Nis's shoulder out of shyness. Nis bounces him gently and he giggles. "It's alright, we're all gentle giants, I've told the about you and they've been dying to meet you."

They step out into the open and the talking comes to a silence, the only one he recognizes is Era, he's changed, he's a boy too, older then him, obviously, he recognizes him from his eyes. And the collar around his neck. The ears on his head make him smile, feeling less bad about still having his, and he waves lightly. Era smiles back and waves in return.

"Nis, you didn't say he was this _adorable_." A man steps forward, a dark toned man with blue eyes, and he shies downwards when he reaches up towards his head. He hears Era growl and someone mutter something, and then it happens, a finger scratches behind his left ear, and he preens, leaning into the touch. "Aren't you a cutie. What's your name?"

"S—Spot."

"I can't. This, this is too much." He winks at his older brother before returning a smile to the new fledgling pup. "Happy birthday, welcome to the family, I'm Titus, but you can call me Tus."

"He has the perfect belly for tickles, I love me some chubby fledgling bellies." Another man steps forward, elbowing the other one away, tan skinned and dark curls up in a bun on the back of his head, his purple eyes sparkle down at him as he reaches out to poke him in the belly, making him giggle softly. "Hello, little guy, I'm Puriel, you can call me Puri."

Nisroc chuckles lightly and turns to the side slightly. "Oh, no, this chubby little fledgling belly is all mine."

"Won't you share with your adoring little baby brother?"

Nis turns them back around again and reaches out to poke Puri on the forehead, pushing him back slightly. "Don't forget who _your_ belly belongs to, my _'adoring little baby brother'._ "

"I wanna see the new puppy too!" Another man bounces forward, younger then the other two, shorter then them, but still massively tall too. Bright red curls bounce with him, and bright green eyes shine as they approach, pulling another along with them, this one seems calmer, dark brown curls hanging down the back of his neck, his smile is comforting. "Oh, my, God. He's adorable!" He turns to look at Era from over his shoulder. "He's cuter then you were Era."

"Shut up, Hani."

The one with the brown curls smiles, reaching out to rub a finger over his cheek. "Hello, little one, I'm Hasmal, and this one is Haniel, you can call us Mal and Hani. We're happy to have you as a part of our family."

"What he said!" The one with the red curls turns back to him, reaching out to poke him on the nose. "You're adorable! You're the baby of the family and we're going to spoil you rotten!"

"Hani, calm down, you're excitement is too much." Another man pushes him aside slightly, with grey eyes and dirty blonde hair. "I'm Abraxos, little one, you can call me Abe." He leans in, pecking him on the cheek. "Welcome home, and happy birthday."

Nisroc smiles at them all, bouncing him on his arm lightly, and he turns back around to look up at him. "Do you want cake first, or gifts?"

He stares at him for a moment, his head tilting to the side, one of his ears flopping over. Hani squeals softly at the cuteness of it. "I get _both_?"

"Well, of course, you can't have a birthday without cake and presents."

Spot smiles brightly, he likes this new family, they're so much nicer to him then his old family was. He hasn't been yelled at for as long as he's been here. "Presents, first."

"Alright, presents it is." They all part as he steps forward, making his way to the big couch is, the pile of presents resting next to it. They sit down and the others gather around, he sits in Nis's lap and Era sits at his feet, between him and the presents. "We've got a few for you."

"Mine first." Era announces before anyone can claim the first position and passes him a bag. Spot smiles as he pulls the tissue paper out, setting it aside lightly, he reaches into the bag and pulls out a different pair of shorts. Nis folds them back up and sets them down on their other side, and he reaches back into the bag, pulling out a long rope toy, and he smiles at it, shaking it around slightly, he can't wait to play with it. He reaches back in and pulls out another object, one he's not familiar with, and he looks up at Nis for help. "It's a story book. I'll read it to you before bed." He sets it aside with the shorts and rope toy.

"Do me next! Do me next!" Hani bounces in his seat, and he giggles softly, he likes Hani. "Era, do mine!"

"Okay, okay, geesh." He passes him another bag, and he pulls the paper out and reaches inside, pulling out a pair of shoes, four in total. Nis hums. "Snow shoes for winter." And sets them aside. He pulls out more story books, three in total, and a big chew bone. He already starting to amass a pile of new goodies.

He gets a bag of treats, three balls, and a plush bed from Puri.

A squeaky duck, four story books, and another pair of shorts from Mal.

Two balls, another bone, and stuffed penguin from Abe.

Three story books, a stuffed duck, and more treats from Tus.

It's all so much for the puppy boy, and his eyes tear up, reaching up to rub his right eye with a small fist, he lets out a small cry, and they all jump forward.

"Hey, no!"

"Don't cry!"

"What's wrong?"

"You're okay, Spot!"

Era tugs on his foot lightly. "What's wrong, puppy?"

He rubs at his eyes with his fists and leans back into Nis's chest, hiding behind his arms slightly. "I…I love my new family!"


	115. A Constant Companion

Haniel hums to himself as he makes his way up the stairs to the Infirmary, he has a meeting to attend, and a hound to collect. It had been a joint decision between them all, while they adored having him at their sides, there was going to arise certain instances where he couldn't be with them, and that's where their plan came in.

He steps up the final stair and makes his way through the great wooden doors, spying out the one he comes in search for, the one they had come to with their request, the one that had agreed to their plan, and had put it into play.

Akriel waves at him when their eyes meet, and he steps around a row of beds to meet him, seated at his desk, leaning back in his chair and twirling a pencil between his fingers.

He tucks his hands into his pockets and slouches forward slightly. "Hey, Ak."

"Hey, Hani, how's Mal doing?"

It had been a rough week for the youngest retired Power. "Not too good. He had a bit of an episode yesterday and accidently burnt Abe, he's locked himself in our room and refuses to come out, I've been forced to sleep in the Lounge."

The mental specialist frowns lightly. "That's no good. This is a great idea, what you're all doing for him, it'll be so much better." He tilts his head, dropping the pencil on his desk. "Is Abe alright?"

"Yea, he's fine." The young Power nods. "It was a small burn, didn't even blister, but it's eating Mal up."

"Good, well," he claps his hands and turns in his chair, waving someone over, and Haniel steps up closer to watch as a young man, around Hasmal's age, makes his way through the crowd towards them. Akriel turns back to him when the young man comes to stand at his side, gesturing up to the younger healer with a wave. "This is Hamon."

"Hello," he leans over to shake the healers hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Same." He smiles up at him. "Hey, Ak."

"Hey, Mon." Akriel smiles up at him, and then back to the Power. "This is your service hound. I trained him myself."

Haniel blinks. "Umm…."

"Oh," the Virtue smacks his palm to his forehead gently. "Right." And turns back to the healer beside him. "Amon, if you would." Hamon nods lightly, his form overcome by a familiar shimmering, and he shrinks, morphing, changing forms, and then a moment later, there stands a hound before him, in place of the young healer stands a hound. Akriel nods, gesturing to him once again, this time he was sure. "There, your hound." He turns back towards his desk, reaching for the left middle drawer, pulling out a red dog vest. "I took the liberty of getting this for you all." He turns, holding it out to the Power, Haniel leans forward to take it. "It's a service dog vest."

"Thanks, Ak, you're the best."

"Hey, I like Mal, he's a kind little guy." Akriel stands. "It's the least I could do."

…

"Mal," he knocks on the door lightly, for the second time. "Mal, can I please come in?"

_"No!"_

"Mal, it was an accident, Abe's okay, please unlock the door."

_"No!"_

"Mal, please, I have a surprise."

There's a pause. _"Is it a good surprise?"_

He smiles lightly, looking down at the large hound sitting beside him. "It's a good surprise, I promise."

There's another pause, and then the lock clicks, and the door cracks open. Soft orange eyes peek out at him, and he smiles at him, pushing at the door slightly. "Let me in, Mal?"

"What if I hurt you?"

"You could never hurt me, Mal, never." He pushes at the door again. "Abe's okay, just a slight singe, he's still up and about."

Those eyes stare at him for a moment, before he nods, and the door opens wider, allowing him inside. Him and the hound step forward, into the room, and he closes the door behind him. Hasmal stares at him, sitting on the edge of his bed, then stares down to the hound at his side. "Hani, who's that?"

Haniel looks down at the hound. "This is Hamon."

"Hamon?"

He nods. "He's your service hound."

"My…service hound?"

He nods again, stepping forward, the hound follows, he sits on the young Power's right side and the hound jumps up to sit on his left. Hasmal turns to look up at him, and Haniel smiles, stroking his hair back. "To be there when we can't be. He's here to help."

Hasmal turns to look at the hound, and it licks him on the nose, he makes a face and rubs his nose lightly. "Thanks, Hani."


	116. A Friendship Like No Other

"Nis, what are you doing?"

"Sshhh." Standing in the middle of the staircase that leads to the Pavilion above, the Captain turns slightly, waving a hand at him, pressing a finger over his lips in the indication to be silent, and he closes his mouth with a soft pop, as the Captain turns back around. "Listen." Silence overcomes them, and in that silence, he hears it. It's soft, melodious, someone tickling the ivories of a piano.

Puriel blinks lightly. "Is that…Is that Mal playing?"

Nisroc nods lightly. "He's the only one up there, well, Hamon's there, but he spends most of his time in hound form."

They listen in for a few minutes. Music fills the air without effort, like the waves filling holes in the beach sand; the sound rushing in and around every person close enough to hear. A lively tempo can lift them, elevate the spirit, or move them to dance, whilst a slow one can relax the mood. Before the notes filled the air, every person was like an island, with it they all feel the same tidal flows and the beginnings of togetherness feels warm.

There are times it feels as if music is teaching the brain how to flow, how to be so peaceful. It's as if the slowly changing tone touches different parts, a sort of auditory massage of the mind. It is an invitation for slowness and to feel the presence of one's self, the ever-patient version of you who waits to be spoken to and is content to do so. There are times light, wind and nature do the same, yet differently, each in their own way. Today is the day of music, to feel the soul within.

"Guys what are—"

They both turn, shushing the one that came up behind them, Titus tilts his head but falls silent as was requested of him, and the melody curls around him in turn. He looks down to his feet, humbled by the soft tones that over come him and wrap him in their embrace, it's a sound that had been missed in these walls for decades, and even now, it was still a rarity.

_'There comes a time, when we heed a certain call, when the world must come together as one.'_

They listen with rapt attention, a small hidden audience, he'd stop if he knew they were listening. His hearts song had left him when he'd been devoured, so it seemed, only a certain few got to hear it.

_'There are people dying, Oh, and it's time to lend a hand to life, the greatest gift of all'_

"Guys—"

The three of them glare down at him, and he raises an eyebrow, swallowing his question. It surrounds him like a blanket, pulling him in a warm embrace, a long lost voice he hadn't known was gone.

_'We can't go on, pretending day-by-day, that someone, somewhere soon make a change, we're all a part of God's great big family, and the truth, you know, love is all we need.'_

"Is that Mal?" They nod down at him, and Abraxos nods in turn, looking down to his hands, he used to play all the time, his music would echo around their living space, it had been extinguished by the Darkness. Father may have reconciled with Her, but they'd never forgive Her, not for what She had taken from them. "I missed this."

"Us too."

_'We are the world, we are the children, we are the ones who make a brighter day, so let's start giving. There's a choice we're making, we're saving our own lives, it's true we'll make a better day, just you and me.'_

The melody changes, he's changing songs, and they step up another stair to listen closer, Nisroc is high enough that he can see them sitting at the piano, their back's facing them, Hamon's tail wagging lazily.

"Hey, what are we doing here and no—"

They all turn, shushing the new arrival, and Haniel pops his mouth closes. The one nearest him, Abraxos, mimes with his fingers playing the keys of a piano, and points up the stairs. He's good at making hand signals out, and the young Power nods lightly.

He whispers this time. "Maly is playing?"

The older Power nods and jerks his chin upwards, toward the Lounge above them, and the soft sound of the notes twirl around them to their own dance, to an invisible unfelt wind.

_'Come on skinny love just last the year, pour a little salt we were never here, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my.'_

He hasn't grown rusty, not in the slightest, not like he said he thinks he has. His music is still as beautiful as ever, his voice was still just as soft and sweet, his playing still as solid and melodious.

_'I tell my love to wreck it all, cut out all the ropes and let me fall, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, right in the moment this order's tall.'_

They all listen in silence, standing on the stairs, listening to something they hadn't heard in nearly forty thousand years. The relish in it, soak it up greedily, in case this was the last time they ever heard it again.

_'And I told you to be patient, And I told you to be fine, And I told you to be balanced, And I told you to be kind, And in the morning I'll be with you, but it will be a different kind, and I'll be holding all the tickets, and you'll be owning all the fines. Come on skinny love, what happened here?~'_

_…_

Hasmal giggles softly as he turns his head from side to side, the warm tongue following him every which way, licking away at his cheeks, ears, and neck. "Mon, stop!" The hound barks softly, nuzzling it's snout over the side of his neck, and he giggles harder, pushing at the large hound weakly. "Mon, stop, that tickles!"

He turns his head to the left, trying to lean away from him, and a paw presses over his cheek, keeping him from turning back, as the warm tongue begins to lap at the side of his neck again, this time with more space and easier access. He shrieks softly when he pokes his nose over his neck, both, at the cool feeling, and the way it gets him, he curses himself for being so ticklish, and then the hound returns to licking. "Mon, please! I can't take it!" He giggles feverishly, trying to turn his head back around, the hound growls lowly, nibbling at his neck, and he shrieks softly once more. "Mon! Mon, stop! Eehehehehehehe! Not thahahat! Not that!" The hound barks softly, and returns to his licking, tilting his head to get back behind his ear, where he knows full well is particularly sensitive, and Hasmal curses Nis for telling him all about those little spots and where to find them, and then curses himself for cursing him, Nis has like, a sixth sense, when it comes to people cursing him, and he has a particular punishment he finds suitable enough for such an offence, and he does not want to face such a punishment today.

"Mon, please, I'm sorry for being so grumpy! Eehehehehehhe! I'm sorry!" The hound barks and pokes it's nose back behind his ear, that's a special spot, it gets him the worst, and Mon knows that very well, thanks to Nis. "Stop! Stop! Eeehehehehhehehe! Mon! Not theehehehere! Not there!" The hound doesn't stop though, he's undeterred, and his mercy seems to be in short supply at the moment, so Hasmal finds he can only just lay there and take it.


	117. A Little Cuddle Bug

He presses his face into his hounds soft furry neck, his eyes closed, his arm curled around the hound resting on it's side. Hamon moves slightly, leaning down to lick his fingers, and tilts his head back and around. "I'm cold, Mon." The hound barks softly, squirming slightly, rolling around, forcing him to roll over with him, and rolls around to lay over top of him. His paws rest over his shoulders, and they stare at each other for a moment, before the hound leans over and swipes a big lick over his face. "Aww, Mon, eeewwww!" Hasmal rubs at his face with his free hand, and curls his arms around the hound's neck, Hamon lays his head down, letting the retiree bury his face into his neck again. "You're warm."

They lay like that for a good twenty minutes, before their stomach's growl in unison, and Hasmal unwinds from around him. Their eyes meet again. "Let's go get breakfast." He thinks for a moment. "And steal one of Puri's sweaters on the way."

…

It was not uncommon, in the colder months, for him to work on paperwork around a body sitting in his lap, usually asleep or close to it, so he was very adept in continuing on as though he was not being interrupted. He'd rub at their back with one hand and fill out the paperwork with the other, after raising as many young ones as he has, one becomes adept in any sort of situation.

He burned just as warm as the younger angel did, he was rarely cold, unlike the other, they often joke that he's their personal space heater, the younger one is not the only one who likes cuddling up with him, he finds it all amusing, they're all lucky he's as fond of them as he is, and that he's a good spirit.

"Comfortable, firefly?"

"Mhmm." Nisroc feels him yawn against his shoulder. "Warm."

"Good, good," he presses a kiss to the side of his head. "Are you going to take a nap?"

"Mhmm."

…

"Okay, one more thing." He makes a face as a winter cap is pulled down over his head, he'd told him he was cold, it was his own fault. "There, all done." The elder steps back to admire his work, smiling to himself, it's kind of funny, in a cute sort of way, he's pouting at him from over a thick scarf. "Hey, you said you were cold."

Hasmal gives him a dull look, looking down to his mitten covered hands, over the scarf wrapped around his head, above the long sweater sleeves rolled up around his wrists, and he looks down passed his mitten covered hands to his feet, wrapped up in tight thick socks, peering out from under the large winter cap pulled over his head.

He looks back up. "Puri, this is not what I wanted."

The medic chuckles softly. "It's not?"

"No."

Puriel opens his arms, uncrossing them, and smiles at the young retiree. "Want some cuddles?"

Hasmal smiles, laughing softly at the _'manly'_ shriek the older angel lets out as he plows into him, curling his arms around him tightly, pressing his ear to his chest, and tackles him backwards onto his bed. Puriel curls his arms around him, squeezing him gently, and chuckles again. "I guess I deserved that."

…

He smiles, cuddling closer to his thigh, pressing his nose into the side of his thigh, listening to the smooth sound the strumming cords make. Abraxos plays the best soft tones, they roll right over you, sometimes, when he's having a bad night, he'll play for him until he falls asleep. Those are the best nights.

Nice and warm, cuddled against his older brother under his blanket, he sighs softly, closing his eyes.

Abe knows how to make him fall asleep, he's perfected it, it's been patented.

…

"Nice and warm?" He nods happily, rubbing his cheek against his older brothers chest, closing his eyes to the feeling fingers running through the hair on the back of his head. "Good." The fingers disappear for a moment as the blankets pulled up over his shoulders.

"You're the best, Tus."

Titus smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "And, don't you forget it."

…

Haniel joins him soon after supper, both retreating to their room where the fireplace is roaring and the room is nice and toasty, his younger brother has already slipped into one of his sweaters, him and Mon are laying backwards on the bed. Hasmal's feet rest on his pillow, Hamon is laying on his back, and the fire angel is doodling in his book.

"What kind of shenanigans are you documenting now?"

"Me and Mon moved all the things in Nis's office five inches to the right this morning when he was outside introducing himself to the newbies."

"That was you!" Haniel feels slightly betrayed. "He blamed that on me!"

"No one ever suspects the quiet ones."

"I can't believe you would betray me like this!" The Power falls over onto his side of their conjoined beds. "Just for that, you get no cuddles."

"That's fine, I'll just cuddle up with Hamon."

"What! You won't cuddle up with me?"

"You're the one who said I wasn't getting any."

"I take it back! You get all the cuddles!"


	118. Caused Such Silence

They waited anxiously outside the closed doors of the Throne Room, they'd been closed since the day Father returned, with Aunt at His side. There was rumors going around that the reason the doors were closed was because He was having Her return what She had so cruelly taken from them, but nothing could be confirmed, not until certain persons were called forth.

Then the call came for them to come, and they had dropped what they were doing, well, technically, it had been Nisroc who had been called, but they did everything as a unit, so when one was called, they considered it a call for all of them.

They waited on baited breath, to see the reason as to why they were called here, to see if the rumors were true, there was so many reasons they could have been called there, and they hoped it was for the one thing there was no evidence of.

Nisroc stood there, staring at the door, his hands curled together tightly, waiting for the guards to open them, so he could see what waited just beyond them, while the others murmured to each other, shifting uneasily.

They all come to a dead silence when the Throne Door begins to open, staring straight ahead, wanting to see what it was they were called here for. Father's back is to them, but they know He knows they're there, and they walk in when the guards gesture for them to do so and stop when they gesture for them to do so too, close, but not too close.

Father straightens, and from His other side, appears the Healer. Raphael spots them at once, and he sends them a saddened look, before returning his gaze to the one Father is standing before. He says something, it's a whisper, and none of them know how to read lips. Father stands, peering over His shoulder, and smiles at them as they stand there.

Nisroc licks his lips nervously, curling his fingers tightly together, and nods to Him. "Nisroc, thank you for coming."

"Of course, Father," he chances a step forward. "But, Father, why did you want to see me?"

"I thought it appropriate to send for you." He turns back around, looking down to whatever awaits on His other side, before returning His gaze to the Captain behind Him. "To return what was yours."

"To return what was mine?"

"Yes," He smiles at him, and steps aside, revealing what had been behind Him. "I'm sure you'll recognize him."

"Him?" His eyes widen as He steps aside, family blue eyes look up to meet his, and he falls short, it's like his entire world has come to a sudden stop. Everything just halts and he stares. "M—Maly?"

The others simply stare, that's what the younger angel does too, eyes wide and alert, staring each one of them down. He might not recognize them, they'd all went through so many changes since the last time he'd seen them, they were older, for one, and he hadn't changed a day. Still that eighteen-year-old little guy that had been their newest Elect. He'd barely been an Elect for more than two weeks.

Father watched them with sad eyes as the Healer leaned over to whisper in the Returned's ear. Hasmal stared at them as he spoke in a soft whisper, nodding his head slightly, his eyes return to whom had once been his Captain. He looked so different now. His beard was fuller, bigger, his hair was longer, there was a slight peppering of gray intermixed in there. He was bigger, taller, more filled out, then he remembered.

They all looked so different now.

Time had frozen for him, but it had kept moving for them.

"Nis?"

The Power nods lightly, smiling softly, opening his arms slightly. "It's me, Maly, it's me."

Hasmal goes back to staring at him silently, to his shining eyes and his open arms, and he slides down off the bed, stumbling as he falls to his feet, standing is something he's still getting used to again, and nods softly when Father inquires if he's alright. Those large hands let him go, and he takes a shaky step forward, the other watch as he steps forward, to meet their young Elect half way, and the younger angel finally trips over, collapsing in his open arms. He sweeps him in close, curling himself around the younger angel, cradling the back of his head, holding him as close as he can manage, feeling his warmth pressed against him. He hadn't had the chance to show him just how much he loved him when he'd been made an Elect, he'd been so busy, Father had just declared war on Aunt, he hadn't had the time, and he'd always regretted not making some, he always would, because not too long afterwards, he'd been taken from them.

"I missed you so much, Maly." He whispers above him, holding on to him tightly, the younger angel holding on equally as so. "I missed you so much."

Hasmal doesn't say anything in return, which worries him, he simply buries his face deeper into his chest, his fingers clutching at the back of his tunic as tightly as they can muster. He doesn't realize it until then, but it comes to him, that this must be so overwhelming, they're all older then he remembers, looking so different then the last time he'd seen them, everything had changed so much since he'd last stepped foot in his home. The Morningstar was back, truly himself again, him and Michael had reconciled, the Messenger had returned shortly after, the Council reunited at last. It must all be so hard to take in at once.

"I'm so happy you're home again." He presses his lips to the top of his head. "Back where you belong."

The younger angel whispers at last. "I missed you too."

"I'm never letting you go again."

"Promise?"

He nods lightly, but firmly, and turns his head, pressing his cheek to the top of the boy's head. "Promise. Never again."

Hasmal nods against him, curling closer, and he pulls him in as much as he can, he's already so close, there's nearly no more room to pull him into. "You're warm."

Nisroc frowns lightly. "You're cold?" He's made from fire, the hottest fire in the Heaven's, an exploding star, being cold was cause for concern. The younger angel nods again. Father looks over to His Healer, and Raphael nods once, turning his attention to the Power. "His core is going to run on the cold side for a while to come, being in the vacuum of the void, it left him burning himself out to stay warm. We don't know if he'll ever truly be able to continually keep himself heated anymore, only time will tell, for the meantime, make sure he bundles up to stay warm."

He nods. "We'll make sure he's nice and bundled up."

"Good." The Archangel smiles at him. "Take him home."

…

They come to find the true extent of the damage within the first week of his return, when he wakes them all in the middle of the night screaming bloody terror, they all jumps, rolling from their beds, rushing to the room on the end, throwing the door open, to see the young fire angel thrashing on the bed, kicking and struggling with the blanket wrapped around his legs. Nisroc pushes his way through the crowd at his door, entering the room silently, and steadies the younger angel with a hand pressed to his chest. "Mal, Maly, it's okay, it's just the blanket, hang on, just a moment." He pulls at the blanket, untangling it from his legs, pulling it free, he leans over to set it next to him on the bed.

Hasmal shoots up, flinging himself at the older Power, curling around him tightly, and he curls his arms around him tightly, pressing his face against his shoulder, he turns around slightly, sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulls him down into his lap. "It's alright, you're alright." He rocks him gently, listening carefully as he breathing calms down, slowly but surely. He looks up to the others in the doorway. "Haniel, light the fireplace." The youngest Power nods, stepping into the room to prepare the fire, and he turns his attention to another. "Titus, get a few candles."

They should have thought about it sooner, it should have occurred to them sooner rather then later, that perhaps having him sleep in the dark was a bad idea.

Titus scatters a few candles around the room, lighting each one as he goes, and soon a nice glow lights up the four corners of the room. The heat from the fireplace is a comforting presence, like a warm blanket being wrapped around them, and he pets his hand down the back of the youngest's head. "Maly, Maly look, can you see?"

Hasmal peeks out from over his shoulder, his wide terrified eyes scanning around the room silently, and he nods lightly, he can see, it's not so dark anymore.

"You need to get more sleep." He scratches lightly at his scalp, the younger angel shakes his head, clutching to him like a small fledgling does it's guardian. "No, no, it's alright, you're alright. I'm going to sleep with you, alright, let's lay back against those pillows, it's alright, easy does it." Turning them slightly, he leans back against the pillows, settling the younger angel over his chest, he reaches over for the blanket next to them and pulls it up over them. "There we go, see, it's alright, I've got you, you're alright."

The young angel peeks out from under his arm, spotting his brothers in the doorway, they smile at him and wave softly. He hears the inhale and exhale that's made with every breath under his ear rumbling in Nisroc's chest. He hears it all.

"Nis, I have an idea." Hasmal watches Abraxos step through the crowd of bodies in his doorway, his old worn guitar in hand, and turns his desk chair around to sit, resting the bottom edge against his thigh, he strums the cords softly. "Close your eyes, Maly, just relax and listen."

Hasmal nods lightly, closing his eyes gently, resting his ear against the Captain's chest, listening to beat of his heart and strum of the guitar, they mix together in a perfect sort of harmony. His breathing slowly evens out, and Nisroc feels it when he falls back to sleep, still, he continues to rub at his head lightly and Abraxos strumming at his guitar, they'll continue on for another couple of minutes, just to make sure he stays asleep.

They combined his and Haniel's rooms the next day.

…

"Alright, all bundled up and warm?" The Captain places his hands on his hips lightly as he looks over their Returned youngster, decked out in one of his sweaters, much too big on his slight frame, a cap and some mittens, fall was fast approaching, and they weren't taking any chances.

Hasmal nods, his mitten covered hands curled up in front of his chest, and he smiles at him gently. "Good, let's go get some breakfast." He holds his hand out to the youth, and he curls his mitten covered hand around his fingers, stepping forward with him as he guides him from the room.

"Nis?" he hums at the call of his name, sitting the younger angel down at the table, he prepares a bowl of oats for him. Nothing better for a cool autumns morning. "Why am I still here?"

He turns, setting the bowl down before him, with a spoon, and turns back to pour him a glass of milk. He'll settle on an apple himself. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Why am I still up here?" Hasmal takes a bite of his oatmeal and hums in delight, apples and cinnamon, his favorite, Nisroc remembered. "I can't be a regular warrior, let alone a _Power_ , why am I still here?"

"Because, Maly," he takes his apple, washes it in some water, and takes a bit as he sits across from him at the table, tapping the rim of the bowl, indicating for him to take another bite. "Once you're one of us, you're _always_ one of us, it makes do difference on the ' _technicalities'_. You're a part of our family, and you'll always be a part of our family, nothing will change that." He smiles at him softly. "You're still our baby boy."

"But I'm useless. I'm a burden now. I don't have a place of my own anymore." Hasmal looks down to his bowl of oats. "I can't even _sleep_ by myself."

"Hey now," Nisroc lifts his head back up with a finger under his chin. "I happen to know Hani _loves_ cuddling up with you at night. You're no burden, we don't mind taking care of you, not one bit. We all love you just as much as we did the day we met, if not more, you mean the world to us, Maly, never doubt that." He retracts his finger, after stroking it down his nose lightly, and takes another bite of his apple. "Your place is right here with us, where it's always been, there's no other place you belong then with your family." He nods to the bowl and the youth takes another bite as he's silently instructed. "You're still our little firefly, still our little musician, we've missed hearing you play, it's been far too quiet around here. You're still Hani's best friend. Puri's favorite little play thing. Tus's reading companion. Abe's cuddle buddy. And, my Baby Power. Nothing will ever change that, nothing will ever change your place in our hearts, no matter what."

"You mean it?" He takes another bite, this time without prompting, he has a knew sense of belonging and it brings him enough courage to eat his own meal. "You're not just saying that?"

"No, you know I've never been one to say meaningless things, everything I say has meaning, I didn't before you were taken, and it hasn't changed since." He takes another bite of his apple. "I mean every word. You belong here, and you always will, no matter what you can or can't do, you don't need to have a use for us to love you, you just have to be yourself."

Hasmal smiles at him, swallowing another bite of his oatmeal. "Thanks, Nis." He takes another bite. "I'm really happy to be home. It was…..I didn't like it there…It was…I'm just really happy to be back."

"We're overjoyed that we have you back with us again, Maly." The Power smiles at him, taking a final bite from his apple, and tosses the core over into the waste basket. He'd put it in the compost pile later, Titus had a green thumb, he used it for his garden. "Overjoyed is an understatement. I can't think of a word to use to express appropriately just how happy we are." He crosses his arms over the edge of the table and leans forward, nodding to the bowl again, he'd get him to eat the entire thing before they left this table, he had always been much too thin, it was still his personal mission to get some meat on those bones. Hasmal takes another big bite, scooping up a small piece of apple this time, and munches on it silently and happily. "Maly, I don't want to push you into anything, but if you ever need, or want, to talk about it, we're all here for you. We do things together in this family, and you're not alone, you don't have to deal with this on your own. We're here to help you, if you allow us to, when you need us. You just have to come and ask, we're always available for you, no matter what we may be doing. We will always put you first, above all else, always and forever."

He takes the last bite of his oatmeal, and reaches for his glass of milk, gulping it down quickly. "I know." He sets his glass down and looks down to his mitten covered hands. "Thanks, Nis."

"Always, baby Maly, you just have to let us in when you need us." Nisroc takes his empty bowl and glass, standing from his chair, and walks around to put them both in the sink, pouring a bit of water into the bowl to let it soak. "You ready to go?"

Hasmal nods, standing from his own seat, he steps around behind it, and pushes it in. "Ready."

"Good." Nisroc raises his hand again, and he curls his mitten covered fingers around his hand, the Power pulls him in close, as he walks them from the kitchen towards the stares. "It's just a normal lesson today, I could use an assistant."

"Nis." Hasmal stops on the fourth step down, and tugs him to a halt, he looks up at him inquiringly. Hasmal takes a moment to find his words. "What if…What if they start whispering….What if they start talking about _that_ …..What if they start asking questions?"

"Then, I'll shut them down. No one will talk about _that,_ if they know what's good for them, if you hear anything you just tell me." He squeezes his fingers comfortingly. "And, if you get uncomfortable or overwhelmed, Titus is working on paperwork in his office, you can always join him, he'd be glad to have your company."

"Okay, Nis." He nods, and they continue on their way down the stairs, and turn around the corner down the hall that housed the barracks. "Nis?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you play the piano for me later?"

He smiles down at him, squeezing his fingers again. "Only if you play with me."

Hasmal gives him a small smile and nods. "Okay."

Nisroc knocks on the door to his trainees barrack, and gives a moment, sparing his youngest brother an amused glance. "Give them a moment to get to their correct places." Hasmal smiles slightly, nodding in turn, his nerves are too much for anything else. This is his first excursion out in the public, for others to see, the entire last week had been just him and his older brothers and no one else. He squeezes his fingers again, and the younger angel looks up at him, he smiles down at him comfortingly. "It'll be alright. You stay with me. I'll keep you safe."

He nods, watching as the older angel reaches out to twist the door handle, and push the door open. They step inside, and he hides slightly behind his shoulder, clutching his hand tighter. The trainees stare at him, he can feel it, and whispering picks up between them. Nisroc squeezes his hand firmly, comfortingly, and glares them all into silence. Guiding the younger angel to the desk up front, the one that he uses himself during lessons, he gently guides him down to sit in the desk chair, pushing it up against the desk.

He curls his fingers over the young angel's shoulders. "I want you all to pull out your study books and complete lesson five." Some of them groan but they all do as they're told, pulling out their work books, they flip to the aforementioned chapter, and being their work silently.

Hasmal looks up at him, and he smiles down at him, stroking a hand down the back of his head, speaking softly for only him to hear. "Like I told you, if you get overwhelmed, you just tell me, and I'll take you down to stay with Tus."

"Okay, Nis." He nods up at the Captain. "Am I still allowed to doodle?"

Nisroc smiles. "Of course you are, papers in the top right drawer, and the pens are in the middle drawer."

…

"Puri?" The medic looks up from the book he was reading, reclined in his bed, and smiles at the one in the doorway. Despite wearing one of Nisroc's sweaters and a pair of mittens, Hasmal still has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he's nice and toasty now. "Can I talk to you?"

Puriel had been the one to Elect him as a Power, he'd taken the time out of his busy week to watch him through training, and decided he was good enough for the open position. In a way, he feels as though he's let him down, being too weak to fend off Aunt's attack.

Just thinking about Her send a chill down his spine, and he shivers softly, curling his fingers tighter in his blanket.

Puriel smiles, nodding his head, closing his book, he turns to set it on the bedside table, and turns back, patting the spot next to him on the bed. Treading forward, Hasmal slowly makes his way from the doorway to the side of the bed, and sidles up against the Power's medic, ducking under his arm when he lifts it form him, smooshing against his side warmly and safely. "Sure you can, Maly, what are we going to talk about?"

"I…I wanted to talk about…..Talk about _that_."

It had been a subject they all wanted him to talk about, so they could deal with this all together, but they hadn't wanted to push it, wanting him to talk about it in his own time. "Are you sure? We don't have to if you're not ready."

"No, no…." He nods lightly. "I'm ready. I—I…I want to talk about _it_."

"Okay, take your time, there's no rush." He rubs at his arm lightly. "We move at your own pace."

"Okay…" The younger angel nods lightly, looking down to his mitten covered hands, he was always so cold now, he was always bundled up, the mitten's were Haniel's and they were too big for him, but they were soft and warm, and when he held his hands up to his nose, they smelled like his older brother, and when things became overwhelming, it was a comforting thing. "It was really dark in _there_. Really, really, _dark."_ Puriel nods quietly, rubbing his arm again, squeezing him close for a moment in comfort. "And…. And, it was _really_ cold. I spent most of my time on fire, trying to stay warm, until…... Until I couldn't light up anymore…. It was like…. It was like something was taken from me….. Something that made me whole… And when I couldn't light up anymore, it got even more cold, it started to hurt, like little daggers poking into my skin…." As though to ensure he was warm now, Puriel pulls the blanket around him even more snug, pulling his own up over them, holding him closer. "It was….. _Nothing_ but _darkness,_ Puri, it was so _dark_. I was suspended in the void of darkness and couldn't even see my own _hand_ right in front of my face." He pulls him in close again, squeezing him against his side, as he leans over to press his lips to the side of his head comfortingly. "Sometimes….. Sometimes She would let in specks of light, forms would appear, I could barely see them, and they'd call my name. They sounded like you guys. They'd call for me, telling me to come to them, and I'd run. I'd run as hard as I could, thinking it was you guys, thinking you'd found a way to free me, and I'd run, I'd _run_ as fast as I could." He leans over, wiping away cool tears as they drip from his eyes, rubbing his cheeks clear with his fingers. "And, when I'd get there, it looked like you guys, it sounded like you guys, but the eyes, the _eyes_ , they were nothing but _darkness_. It was a trick, every time, and I fell for it again and again. _Again and again._ " Hasmal falls silent, choking on a breath, as more tears fall from his burnt orange eyes, they fall faster then the medic can clean them up, so he gives up, waiting for him to get it all off his chest so he can comfort him properly. "And, She'd laugh, She'd laugh so _hard_ , like it was amusing to Her, to watch me suffer and breakdown. She'd _laugh_ as I screamed for help, as I screamed for you guys to come get me, as I just _screamed_ myself hoarse, begging for someone to come, and then She'd laugh as I cried, as I sobbed so hard I nearly made myself sick, when no one came, when the only sound I could hear was my own, and Her cruel laughter, and then it would all fall _silent_. So suddenly. Just _silence_." He looks up at him with tear filled eyes, utter hopelessness shining in his eyes, devastation, deep gut wrenching hurt. "I—I-I…I begged Father to let me die….I couldn't take it anymore….It was suffocating….I begged Her to _kill_ me and She'd only laugh some more…..I _begged_ Puri….I _begged_ for it…..I wanted to _die_ …..I—I-I…..I wanted to _die_ and be reborn….I didn't care what happened to me after….I just wanted it to _end_ …..It was wrong of me, I _know_ , it was wrong, and I let you _down_ ….But I _couldn't_ take it anymore….I just wanted out…..I—I just wanted out of the darkness….."

His heart breaks when his words dissolve into sobs. "Oh, Maly, little baby Maly." He carefully secures his grip around him, and pulls him around, pulling him up over top of him, laying him down over his chest, wrapping one arm around his lower back and curling the fingers of his free hand through the hair on the back of his head, rubbing comfortingly at his scalp as he cried into his chest. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for all you've suffered, if we could take it from you, all of it, any of it, we would. We'd bare it a thousand times over if it meant keeping you safe from it's harm." He rubs his thumb over the skin just under his ear. "You haven't let me down, I understand, you could never let me down. I stand by my choice, even now, I would never take back electing you, I stood by it then and I stand by it now. You haven't ever let me down. I've never second guessed the decision I made about you, I never have, and I never will, never ever. You're still my Elect. Our Baby Power. That's still only for you." He pets his hand down the back of his head gently, cooing down at him softly, urging his tears to a stopping point, assuring him that everything was okay.

Slowly, his tears calm down, calming down into soft hiccups, wheezing through his nose softly. He reaches for the hankie cloth on his bedside table and curls it around the youth's nose gently. "Give a nice blow, Maly." Hasmal blows his nose, and he wipes it clean, folding the hankie over, he wipes his face clean. "Come on, Maly, let's go join the others in the Lounge, we'll all curl up together and sleep there for the night, I'll make some of my special hot chocolate, with the whipped cream topping and tiny marshmallows, just like how I know you like it, and we'll get Nis to play the piano for us, he'd play for you anytime you want, and we'll all stay there together, curled up next to the fire, with dozens of candles lighting the room around us in their soft light, for the whole night, and watch the snow fall out the windows and tell stories, until you fall asleep, nice and surrounded, all warm and toasty, with your family all around you."

Hasmal sniffles softly, nodding his head, sitting up slightly. "I…I want that."

Puriel smiles up at him, poking him on the nose lightly, drawing a small smile from him, it's a bit wobbly, but they can build from there. "Then, let's go."

"Will you carry me?"

He nods lightly, patting his cheek gently. "If you let me get up." Hasmal climbs off of him. "Do you want a pair of my wool socks?"

"Yes, please."

The medic nods, sitting up, turning over the edge of the bed, and stands. He makes his way around the bed for his wardrobe, reaching into the bottom drawer, and tosses him a pair of woolen socks. Hasmal sits on the edge of the bed to pull them on his feet, they're big, and fluffy, perfect for his small feet.

Puriel closes the drawer and crosses back to his side, pulling him up to his feet, he tugs the blanket around him firmly, and curls his fingers around his higher ribs, just under his armpits. "Hop up." He nods, hopping up from the floor, and the medic grunts slightly as he lifts him up, pulling him close, he wraps his legs around the Power's waist and his arms around his neck, resting his chin on his arm, their cheeks pressed together, Puriel rubs at his back gently and turns them around towards the door. "Let's go."

In the Lounge, with all the others already gathered around talking jovially, he's settled down on the cushions between Titus and Abraxos, they don't pause in their conversation with Nisroc and Haniel, but they scoot closer to him, pulling another blanket up over him, smooshing him slightly between them, curling their arms around his lower back.

He smiles as Puriel pets his hair back gently and stands, heading for the kitchen, to prepare his special hot chocolate, like he knows he likes, with the tiny marshmallows and whipped cream topping and everything, and he leans over, resting his head against Abraxos' shoulder. He pauses for a moment, letting Titus reply this time, turning slightly to press a firm kiss to the side of his forehead, squeezing his right hip lightly, before responding in turn.

Hasmal smiles slightly at the feeling of his quick, but firm, fond kiss. Warm and safe between two of his older brothers, blankets wrapped around him, soft wool socks on his feet, soft fluffy mittens on his hands, and the crackling of the fire under the soft conversation taking place above his head. He looks over to their Christmas tree, lights twinkling and ornaments shimmering in the candles fire light, boxes wrapped in silver and gold paper under the tree, waiting to be opened come morning. His first Christmas back with his family, that's the only gift he'd ever want, in his entire life time, he eyes the boxes silently, there's more then he remembers there usually being, he thinks most of them are probably for him, they've been showering him since he got back.

Hani had told him, a couple days ago, curled up together in their large king sized bed, two candles flickering beside them, one on both bedside tables, that his favorite gift this year, his most favorite, was finally having him back again, and it had filled him with such warmth, like nothing he had felt before, and had made him cry softly, knowing that he'd been missed that much.

His attention is pulled away from the boxes and his thoughts when the medic returns, a tray of large mugs in his hands, he stops first at Nisroc's side, offering him one, the Captain thanks him softly and picks one out from the cluster. He holds his tray out to Haniel, the younger Power's eyes widen and he licks his lips excitedly, thanking him quickly and scoops up his own mug. He moves over to them, holding the tray out between the three of them, both Titus and Abraxos thank him softly, taking up their own mugs, and Hasmal smiles, his eyes shining with excitement, it would be a sad sight, to see him so brightened by something as simple as hot chocolate, but they're trying not to focus on the sadness, it's there, but they rather focus on the happiness.

Tis the season for happiness and family.

He takes his mug, thanking him softly in turn, and takes a quick sip. The others watch him, their conversation having fallen silent to see him take his first sip, his first sip of his favorite hot chocolate after nearly forty thousand years. Hasmal hums softly in pleasure, it burns his tongue softly, it's still fresh out of the kettle, but he can deal with the burn for the taste, it's rick and thick and warm. He pulls his mug away, cradling it in his hands, and looks up when he hears them chuckle softly. Going cross eyed, he watches Titus reach over from his right side to swipe up the whipped cream topping from over his upper lip with his thumb. He licks it off his thumb quietly and squeezes his left hip lightly.

Puriel takes a seat on Nisroc's other side, scooping up a bit of the high piled whipped cream topping and licks it off his finger, smiling at him as he takes another sip, and licks the whipped cream topping from his upper lips this time. "Like it?"

He nods lightly, smiling at him in return, the small isn't too big, none of his smiles have been since he got back, they're still working on it, it's an adjustment period right now, but it's bigger then all his previous smiles, and they count that as progress. "It's really yummy, thanks, Puri."

The medic smiles at him warmly. "You're most welcome, Maly." He turns to his Captain next to him. "Nis, would you give us the honor of playing the piano for us, Maly would much appreciate it."

Nisroc hums softly, mid sip of his own mug of hot chocolate, wiping the whipped cream topping off his upper lip and sticking his finger in his mouth to suck it off. "Are you using baby Maly as a method to persuade me?"

"Please, big brother?" Hasmal cuts in softly before Puriel can respond, and they both look over at him, smiling in unison at his little pout, it's adorable, they missed it, his lower lips stuck out slightly, knowingly leaving the white mustache of fluffy whipped topping on his upper lip. Abraxos and Titus snort at his sides. Haniel nods in approval, he's taught the youngest of them all he knows, but Hasmal brought some of his own tricks to the table, the pout was something of his own crafting. "For me?"

Nisroc chuckles softly, shaking his head at them, taking another sip from his mug, and then he leans forward, setting his mug down, it'll stay nice and warm endlessly, and pushes himself to his feet. "Now, how can I say _'no'_ to that?"

Hasmal smiles in triumph, a new kind of smile they haven't seen since he got back, and they all exchange looks of accomplishment over his head.

Their Captain sits at the piano and cracks his fingers. "I'll play for a little bit, because baby Maly asked so nicely, and then we can watch a movie."

They didn't indulge in modern technologies often, but it was the holiday season, and a special one at that, having their Maly back with them, so they'd indulge a little bit.


	119. Keeping Things Lighthearted

Hasmal knew it was going to be a rough day from the very start of it, right from the moment he woke up, he knew it wasn't going to be a good day, not even Hamon's company made him feel better, it did nothing to alleviate the feeling of impending doom. It was like he was stuck in a thick dark storm cloud and boy did he hate storms, too dark for his taste, he doesn't like the dark, it sends a shiver down his spine just thinking about it.

He dresses slowly, taking his time, he's in no rush, as is usually the case with the retired life. Brushing his hair back over his shoulders, clipping his bangs back behind his ear, he turns to his hound, Hamon tilts his head as though waiting for him to speak his mind. "Ready?"

The hound barks, rising, and jumps off his bed. The young Returned turns towards the door, curls his fingers around the handle, and pulls it open. The hall is quite, the others are already gone for the day, and he sighs as him and his hound make their way down the hall. He didn't mind the life he lived, he still had his older brothers, he was home again, right where he belonged, but sometimes it got lonely being the only one with nothing to do.

Nisroc is still sitting at the table, his lessons aren't until later that day, Puriel is teaching them all basic medical knowledge; how to bind wounds correctly and splint broken bones and the such, leaving him with nothing to do until it was his turn with his trainees, there was no better time to catch up on paperwork then scheduled down time. Taking over for Michael seemed to double the amount of paperwork he had to do, the only pro out of this new arrangement was the bigger office, more room was always nice and it had a great view of the training field, he could see practically the entire field from his vantage point.

He sighs dejectedly as he makes up Hamon's breakfast first, sets his bowl down on the other side of Spot's, and makes himself up some toast to munch on. Sighing again, he turns towards the table, pulling the chair next to his oldest brother out, he sets his plate down, and sighs once more.

"Alright," the Captain (and Commander) sets his pen down and turns to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Hasmal takes a bite of his toast and leans forward, resting his elbows against the table, staring down at his breakfast.

"I don't believe that, tell me what I can do to help," he turns his head around with a fingers curled around his chin. "What's with the look of impending doom in those bright eyes?"

"I don't know, Nis," he shrugs lightly. "It just…Something feels off. I don't know. It just doesn't feel like the start of a good day."

"How, it's just started, how isn't it a good day already?"

"I don't know, Nis, it just isn't."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Hasmal yelps as he snatching him up by the arm, tugging him over, scooting back slightly as he tumbles over into his lap. "It should be a good day."

"Nis, what are you doing!"

"I'm going to wave away those clouds hanging over you." He looks down with wide eyes, watching his older brother bury his fingers into his belly, and he shrieks softly, squirming in the older Power's lap. "And, I know just how to accomplish that goal."

"Nis! Nihihis! NO!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that." He wiggles his fingers over to the young angels left side and Hasmal shrieks again, pressing closer to him, batting weakly at his hand. "How are those clouds doing?"

"Nihihihis!"

Nisroc smiles to himself, he'd missed this, the lighthearted times, and now he took them as much as he could manage. He wasn't going to miss out on them anymore, not if he had anything to say about it, and he has a lot to say. He can feel his skin heating up, and it makes him chuckle, Mal had always been rather ticklish, and it never took much to make him lose control. "You can steam, but if you light up, I'll give you a true reason to light up."

"I cahahahhaan't heehehehehelp ihihihihiit!"

"I know you can't," he returns his wiggling fingers to his belly. "That's what makes it so much fun for me."

He smiles when Hasmal takes a deep breath, trying to settle himself down, trying to control himself, so he moves back over to his side again, and the younger angel jumps away from his fingers. He feels heat emanating from his hand, smacking against his own, and he looks around to see what it is. "Is that a flame I see?"

"NO! Noho! It's nohohot! It's nohohot!"

"Let me see that hand."

"Nohoho!"

"Let me see it." He pulls his fingers away from his side to snatch up his hand, and he chuckles softly, blowing out a little bobbing flame over the tip of his index finger. "It is a flame. You lit up."

"Nohoho I dihihihihidn't!"

"I saw it, Mal, I _saw_ it."

"Yohohohou sahahhaaw nohohohothing!"

"Alright," Nisroc curls an arm under his knees and stands, lifting the younger angel up with him, leaving his paperwork on the table, he steps around the side, and makes his way for the hall. "Let me give you a reason to light up."

"Nis, no, I don't need a reason!" He squirms, trying to get out of his embrace, he'll allow himself to tumble to the floor if it meant getting away from him. "Put me down! Let me go!"

"I don't think so," he pulls him closer, pulling him in tighter. "I won't drop you, so you can stop squirming, you're not going anywhere."

Hasmal figures, if he can't get free by squirming, he's going to be a dead weight, and falls completely limp. Nisroc grunts lightly, but he's true to his word, he doesn't drop him, he adjusts his grip and kicks his door open gently. Hamon trots in behind him, before he can close the door, he waits for him, him and Mal aren't ever far from each other. The angel hound takes a place on Erathaol's bed, watching them have their time, Hamon was more a hound of action then of words, unless Mal was having an episode, then he'd talk him down when actions didn't get the job done.

He drops the young angel down on his bed, Hasmal yelps, bouncing on the mattress, and immediately tries to crawl away. A hand snatches him by the ankle. "Hey, not so fast." And tugs him back down. "We're not done here."

"Nis, please, I didn't do it, I swear!" He tugs at his ankle firmly. "I don't know what you saw but it wasn't a flame!"

"I know what I saw, you know how this works, you need a reason to light up and I'll give you one." He collapses down on the bed, over top of him, in his horizontal position, Hasmal grunts softly, pushing against his older brother's chest. "Come here, you." He curls his arms around his chest, under his arms, and leans in close. "We haven't gotten to spend much quality time together as of late. It's time to catch up." He buries himself in the side of his neck, and the younger angel shrieks softly, curling his fingers in the front of the Captain's tunic, pushing lightly, desperately, this is the worst, Nis is the worst when he really gets his claws into you.

He shakes his head, blowing light raspberries into his neck, and it drives him crazy, he pushes at him and cackles softly. When he begins to nibble, the young angel squeals softly, smacking his hands against his chest, trying to get him away, out from his burrow in his neck. "Nihihihihis! Gehehehehet ohohhohohohout! Gehehehet ohohohout!"

"I can't hear you; can you repeat that?"

Hasmal goes to repeat himself, and the older angel blows a vicious raspberry, and he squeals loudly, banging against his chest again. Nisroc smiles, he can feel the skin under him starting to heat up again, it truly wasn't all too hard to get him to loose his control, it wouldn't be too long now. He blows another raspberry, and steam begins to roll off his skin, he can smell the sweet scent in his position, truly, not too long now. One more long raspberry and it happens, his focus and control is out the window, and his hands go up in flames.

"There we go, we've got some flames, those are nice." He pulls away from his neck, catching his hands gently, and presses them over his cheeks. "Nice and warm."

"Nohohot as warm as you ahahare."

"It still mystifies me how you're always cold when you're made of fire."

The younger angel giggles softly. "I can't help it. I don't get it either."

He chuckles, shaking his head lightly. "Do you want to join me in my lessons today?"

"Can I wear one of your sweaters?"

Sighing exasperatedly, he smiles, nodding lightly. "Yes, you can wear one of me sweaters."


	120. Night Time Terror

He wakes up to the sound of whimpering, soft whimpering, and he sits up, turning to see what the problem was, and barks softly, his charge whimpering and mumbling to himself, his brow is furrowed, and he knows what's wrong immediately. Barking softly again, he nudges him with his snout, trying to wake him from his tumultuous dreams, but he doesn't budge, he merely whines softly, recoiling away from him and his cold nose.

Huffing softly, he stands, shaking himself out gently, and jumps off the edge of the bed. Trotting across the threshold of the room, he paws the door open, and makes his way down the hall. He can hear the others in the Lounge, they had yet to turn in, his charge had been having a bad day and turned in early, and it made his mission of alerting someone who could do something easier with them being awake, rather then having to wake someone up.

Their conversation doesn't fall silent at his entrance, most of them don't realize he's joined them, but one of them does, the biggest one, leaning back against one of the couches, his arm resting over his bent knee, their eyes meet. He trots up between them, snatching up the man's sleeve, and tugs firmly, jerking his head around towards the hall.

"Is it Mal, Hamon?" He barks, the hound jerking his head around again, and the conversation falls silent at the question. Nodding, the oldest of them pushes himself up to his feet, the others watch them as they leave the room, disappearing down the hall, they'll follow, he knows they will. Nisroc pushes the door open slightly, peering into the room, the light from the hall flooding in, casting over the occupant of the bed. He frowns when the sound of soft whimpering hits his ears. "Oh, Maly."

He steps into the room, pushing the door open even more, casting in more light, and the hound follows, sitting at his side, on the floor, as the oldest Power sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over his charge, and brushes his fingers over his cheek lightly. "Maly, Maly wake up. It's just a dream. Wake up, Maly." The angel of fire whimpers again, curling in on himself slightly, and the Power pats his cheek lightly. "Maly, wake up for me, come on, wake up, it's alright, it's just a bad dream."

Hamon whines softly, he doesn't like seeing his charge so distressed, and nudges the Power's knee lightly. Nisroc looks down at him and smiles, rubbing a hand over his head comfortingly. "It's alright, Mon, I'll take care of him."

He turns back around to the retired Power, patting him on the cheek again, just a bit firmer. "Come to me, Maly, wake up for me, it's just a dream, wake up."

The younger's eyes move under his eyelids, he's close to waking, right on the edge, and Nisroc pats his cheek again. That's when his eyes fly open, flashing brightly, like they do before he bursts into flames, and Nisroc pats his cheek again, to gain his attention. "Maly, Maly, it's okay, look at me, can you see me?"

Hasmal's eyes flit up to him, staring at him for a long minute, before he nods.

"Good, good boy," he strokes his cheek gently with a finger. "Do you see the candle?" He points to the burning candle on the bedside table, and his eyes follow, staring at the dancing flame of the candle next to him for a long minute before nodding again. "Very good. Look back at me, now." His eyes flit back, meeting those of the Captain's, and he smiles down at him. "Tell me what happened."

He licks his lips. "Dark. Too dark."

"It was too dark, okay, what else?"

"Laugh, she was laughing, all I heard."

"Okay, laughter, did you feel anything else?"

He nods lightly. "Cold. Really cold. Too cold."

"Are you still cold?" Hasmal nods quickly, and he smiles down at him, rubbing his cheek again. "Do you want to wear one of my sweaters?" Hasmal nods again, and Nisroc smiles once more, pulling his blankets down slightly. "Come on, let's go get my sweater." Hasmal nods, crawling out from under his blankets, and turns over the edge of the bed, his fingers curling in the Power's sleeve, following him from his room, Hamon on his heels, they were never far from each other.

"Nis," he looks up at the sound of his name, Puriel smiles at him, looking to their young friend, their baby firefly, Hasmal smiles back at him silently. "Bring him down to the Lounge when you're done."

"Alright." He nods, guiding the young retiree forward as the medic makes his leave, heading back down the hall back for the Lounge, and he turns into his room, guiding the young angel over to his wardrobe, pulls open the door, and pulls out one of his sweaters, maroon in color and rather fluffy in materiel, and holds it out to the younger angel.

Hasmal lets go of his sleeve just long enough to pull the his tunic off and the sweater on in it's place, then his fingers curl back into his sleeve again, and he smiles down at him comfortingly, curling his arm around him instead, and the fingers move from his sleeve to the side of his tunic, and he guides him around towards the door, making their way back out into the hall again, making their way down towards the Lounge just as was requested of them.

They've done it up nicely, the curtains over the windows pulled open, letting the bright moonlight flood in, the stars shining brightly in the sky above. Candles are light around the room, over the coffee table and side tables, over the windowsills, on almost every surface a candle could be held rests a candle. They've fluffed up the pillows and laid them out in a certain way, creating a fluffed-up mattress of sorts, a pile of blankets rests on Haniel's other side. They smile up at him, and he smiles back, hiding slightly in his oldest brother's side. Abraxos is tuning up his guitar silently, the smooth sound of the vibrating strings the only sound in the room, and Nisroc squeezes him against his side gently.

"Why don't you go claim your spot."

He looks up at him, shaking his head. "You come too?"

"Of course, I'm coming, come on, let's go claim our spots." The oldest Power intones softly, comfortingly, and guides him forward, sitting on Puriel's left side, and Hasmal settles in between him and Haniel, and they both scoot in closer, nearly smooshing him between them. Haniel pulls a blanket up over him, they all know how much he detests the cold. Hamon crawls up to lay between his legs, a close presence, physical reassurance that he was here, and everything was fine.

Puriel leans around their Captain, reaching over to tuck the blanket up under his chin, and he stares at him as he smiles down at him comfortingly. "You go back to sleep, you need as much sleep as you can get, it's healthy for you."

He shakes his head silently, he doesn't want to go back to sleep, he doesn't want the laughter to come back. "No. Laughing. I hear the laughing." Behind him comes the smooth sound of Abraxos strumming the cords of his guitar, filling the empty space around them with their soft music, a tune, appropriate for the season, a Christmas tune. It's soothing, soft, and it calms his nerves, and he unconsciously relaxes between the two solid bodies he's slightly smooshed between.

"Do you hear Abe?" He nods lightly. "Just focus on the sound of his music. Focus on the strum of the cords. Focus on only that. Let it drown out the laughter." He nods again, it's easier said then done, but he's willing to try. He reaches down, curling his fingers in the scruff of Hamon's neck, the hound crawls upwards, resting it's head on his belly, letting him clutch at the scruff of fur on the back of it's neck. "Good, now close your eyes." He nods, closing his eyes gently, and lays there, warm, comforted by the solid presence of his brothers, his hound pressed so close, and Abraxos playing softly behind him. "Good, very good, now just let go. Listen to the music, bask in the warmth, and just let go."

Hasmal nods again, falling into the soft sound of the guitar music, the soft fur under his fingers, and the warmth of his sweater and blanket, and the presence of his older brothers all around him.

He's asleep within minutes.


	121. Sick As A Dog

He knows something is wrong the moment he wakes up. His head hurts, his nose is stuffy, his throat is sore, his belly aches, and he's _really_ cold. He groans, sitting up miserably, Hani is already gone, probably to get breakfast, just the thought of food makes him want to barf. He leans forward, tugging on Hamon's ear, he wants his big brother, he'd make him feel better. "Mon, I want Puri."

Hamon licks his cheek lightly and stands, jumping off the bed and trotting across the room, turning out the door. He groans softly, curling his hands around his face, he falls back against his pillows.

When he had been a new Elect, he'd gotten the chicken pox, he'd been as sick as a dog, but his mentor had made it all better, Puri, his mentor, had been so nice. He'd laid with him when he couldn't sleep, rubbed his belly when it ached, gave him medicine for his head, and rubbed a cool cloth over his forehead because he was so hot.

He wanted his big brother to make him feel better again.

"Hey, little dragon." He knows that voice, that's his big brother, that's the one who always makes him feel better again, he's the only one who calls him _'little dragon',_ it's their thing, only theirs. He pulls his hands away, spreading his fingers, looking up at him. His mentor smiles down at him, sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning over to set his medicine bag on the bedside table. "I heard you were feeling pretty lousy."

"Big brother, I don't feel good."

"You don't look to hot, either." Puriel snorts lightly. "Pun intended." He leans over, pressing the back of his hand over his forehead lightly, Hasmal was different then most, seeing as he was made from fire, he was always running on the warm side, his version of a fever was a chill, he cooled down, much lower then he should, that was his version of a fever. "You're pretty cool there." He presses the backs of his fingers over his cheeks gently. "You've got a bit of a chilly fever, little guy." He pulls his hand away, resting on his knee lightly. "Tell big brother what hurts so he can make it feel better."

Hasmal nods pitifully. "My head hurts."

"Mhm, a hurting head." The medic reaches for his medicine bag, unclasping the latches, and pulls the flaps open to search inside. "What else?"

"My tummy hurts."

"Upset tummy, I got just the thing, and?"

He rubs at his throat lightly. "My throat hurts."

"Sore throats are the worst, anything else?"

Hasmal shivers slightly, curling his arms around himself tightly. "And, I'm _really_ cold."

"Oohhh, sick and freezing, that's no fun." He digs into his bag, pulling out a blue vial, reading the label, he nods and sets it on the bedside table. He reaches back in, riffling around, making a funny face at the sick angel in the bed as he did, Hasmal giggles softly at his expression, and he looks down to read the label on a small red bottle, reaching up to set it next to the blue one, and reaches back in, and makes a frustrated noise. "Where the heck is it! I know it's in here!" He pulls the flaps open wider and looks in, digging around, Hasmal giggles again as he hears the soft clangs of different vials and bottles, Puri's bag was an organized mess. "There it is!" The medic pulls out a small yellow bottle and reads that label too, nodding in triumph, and leans forward to set the bottle next to the others. "And, last, but certainly not least," he pulls a thick fluffy blanket out of his bag, and the fire bender's eyes widen, as his mentor shakes out the blanket and tucks it around him. "Puri, how do you fit all of that stuff in your bag?"

Puriel reaches for the blue vial and turns to look at him as he pulls the cork free, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. "Magic."

He giggles again, drinking the potion in the blue vial when he holds it to his lips. "It is not magic. How do you really do it?" He makes a face at the aftertaste. "Eeww, that's gross."

"Sorry, I'm still working on the taste, that's for the headache." He holds the red bottle to his lips. "This is for the upset tummy." Hasmal makes another face at the taste. "And, I told you, it's magic." He unscrews the cap off the yellow bottle. "This one is for your sore throat." He downs that one too, makes another face, and nods down against his pillow.

Puriel closes his bag and leans around, brushing his hair back behind his ear. "It'll kick in, in a couple minutes."

"Puri, big brother, will you lay with me?"

"Sure, little dragon, scoot over for me." He scoots away for a moment, watching as the older Power climbs under his blankets, settling back against his pillows, and raises his arm. Hasmal scoots closer, ducking under his arm, cuddling up against his side. "Comfy?"

"Mhmm, you're warm, really, really warm."

"Good," he rubs his shoulder lightly. "Do you want me to rub your tummy?"

The younger angel nods lightly. "Yes, please."

"Okie dokie." A warm hand presses over his belly and rubs a soothing circle. "Feeling a bit better?"

"M'sleepy now." He nods against his big brother's chest. "M'really sleepy."

Puriel rubs his tummy softly. "I thought you might be. It's a side affect of the medicine I gave you. Don't fight it. You need all the sleep you can get."

"Mmm…Where's Mon?"

"He's eating breakfast, he'll join us when he's finished, I'm sure you'll be asleep by then." He hums softly, rubbing soothing circles over his little dragon's belly, and gives it a few minutes. He looks down to check on him and smiles, leaning over to press his lips to his forehead. "Sleep well, little dragon."


	122. Tis The Season

He stands out on the deck silently, head tilted back, watching the flakes of white drift lazily from the sky. The big flakes, that stick to your clothes and the grass, that stick to your eyelashes and hair. His hound sits next to him, staring up at the sky with him, peaceful in the silence of slowly flowing snowflakes. The wind blows softly, a gentle breeze, and the flakes swirl around in a twirling winter dance. He likes this season, it's his favorite season, the music, the snow, the food, being together with your family uninterrupted, it was the only season that the warriors didn't train all day, only between noon and three in the afternoon, when it was warmest, meaning before and after, they were all together. Cookies were baked and iced, gifts were wrapped and hidden, they all curled up together to listen to the piano, or on those rare occasions watch a seasonal movie. Warm sweaters, he borrowed his from his older brothers and they never minded, warm hot chocolate, he loved everything about the season.

A door opens behind him. "Hey, you eskimo!"

He turns slightly to peer over his shoulder, snow flakes fall from his hair as he turns, and the older Power jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "Inside mister, you've been out here for thirty minutes-are you _barefoot_!"

"No."

"I can see that you are!"

"Then why'd you ask?"

The older angel waves him forward. "Come on, mister, you two need to warm up. Inside, let's go, you aren't even dressed appropriately for this chill. I can't believe you. It's like your some overgrown fledgling, no coat, no boots, no hat or mittens, inside, I'm catching a chill just looking at you!"

Rolling his eyes slightly, he looks down to his hound next to him, it looks back up at him. "You better not have just rolled your eyes at me!" Smirking slightly, he jerks his chin around, and the hound barks. "Come on, Mon, before Puri has a fit."

"Oh, I'll show you a fit!" Puriel snags him by the sleeve when he's close enough and tugs him inside, shivering slightly as he pushes the door closed behind him, and practically drags him into the Lounge. "You're lucky you didn't get frost bitten feet, or trench foot, that's reckless, even for you, and that in itself is saying something."

"I'm not reckless."

The older Power shoots him a dull look from over his shoulder. "Oh, yes, you are." He pulls him around in front of one of the couches, and pushes him down, between Titus and Nisroc, and they quickly bundle him up in a blanket. "Guys, I'm fine."

"You will be." Nisroc assures him softly, tucking the blanket around him securely, and curls his arm around his lower back, pulling him close against his side, and he smiles, leaning over to rest his head against his shoulder. "All snug?"

"Mhmm." Hasmal looks down when he feels a cool nose rub against his hand, and he nods, watching as Hamon trots off to stretch out by the fire. "It's snowing, Nis."

"I saw," he hears his older brothers amused rumble under his ear. "You're cold enough as it is, you need to bundle up when you go out in the snow, you know better, Hasmal."

"I know, Nis," he looks down to his hands. "I was just so excited, you know, I love it when it snows."

"I know you do." His Captain rubs his fingers over his hip lightly. "Bundle up next time, alright?"

"Okay, Nis."

Puriel returns, with a small tub of water, and sets it down at his feet. "Alright, feet in, mister, soak them for at least ten minutes." He nods, lifting his feet up as the basin is slid under him, and lowers them into the warm water, sighing in content, he truly was a cold person now. "I guess this means it's time to start making my cookie dough."

Hasmal smiles lightly. "Big brother, will you make me some hot chocolate?"

"With little marshmallows and whipped cream topping?"

He nods lightly, tilting his head, trying to look as adorable as possible, it's not too hard to accomplish in their opinion. "Please?"

The medic chuckles softly, reaching out, pinching his nose lightly, and the younger angel makes a scrunched-up face. "How can I say no to that face?" He stands up straighter, and turns, leaving them for the kitchen, to make a mug of his famous hot chocolate.

Nisroc squeezes him gently to his side. "Why don't you take a nap?"

He looks up at him. "What about my hot chocolate, though, Nis?"

"You know it'll stay warm while you're sleeping." He squeezes him close again. "And, besides, if it does _happen_ to cool down, I'll just heat it back up for you."

Hasmal smiles up at him. "You're the best big brother." And leans in closer, curling up slightly against his side, Nisroc pulls the blanket around him just a bit more snug like and rubs at his arm lightly. Titus begins reading aloud from his book, and if it happens to make him sleepier, then no one says a thing about it, and if he wakes up to his feet in thick wool socks, he just sips on his hot chocolate and wiggles his toes.

…

"Alright, is this a good place?" He's moved their tree four times already, but he doesn't mind, if it makes their firefly happy, then that's all that matters to him, he'll move it as many times as he needs to. "This is where we had it last year."

"That's good!" Hasmal nods as he sits on one of the couches, leaning over to pull ornaments out of a large box, looking them over one by one, smiling as the memories all come back to him for their origins, and sets them aside as he looks them over, he reaches back into the box and pulls out a scarf, stuffed in last year during the clean up, and he smiles, leaning over to wrap it around Hamon's neck. The hound barks and nips at his fingers but lets him curl it around his neck all the while, and he smiles at him. "You look good, Mon." The hound barks again and licks his fingers, settling back down to chew on his bone, and Hasmal returns to sifting through the box again.

He pulls out the string lights first, and stands from his place on the couch, making his way over to the tree, he carefully winds them around and around, and plugs the plug in, smiling as he steps back a step, admiring his work thus far.

"Okie dokie, I've got cookies, be careful, they're still fresh out of the oven."

Puriel sets a plate of sugar cookies on the coffee table, and comes to stand behind him, munching quietly on a cookie. "Looks good already, Mal."

"You think so?" Hasmal looks over at him, and makes a face, smacking him in the belly lightly. The older angel grunts softly but takes another bite of his cookie without interruption. "Puri, you can't have the first _and_ second cookie."

"Why not?" The medic chuckles softly, finishing off his cookie, and pats his belly lightly. "I love me some cookies."

Abraxos snorts as he joins them, swiping a cookie up for himself, and takes a bite, humming in delight, as good as they always were, he expected nothing less. "We all know how much _you_ like cookies."

"Hey, I don't hear you complaining when you decide you want to take a nap on me."

"I'm not complaining, I like your squishy belly," he pokes his fingers into the medic's belly, as though he was fluffing a pillow, and the medic squeaks, jumping away from him. "Makes for a good pillow."

"Would you stop that!"

"Why?" Abraxos reaches out to do it again. "Is your belly just a wee bit sensitive?"

Puriel smacks his hand away. "Quit it!"

"Abe," Nisroc admonishes lightly, hanging a red bulb on the tree, sparing them a glance over his shoulder. "Don't torment him."

"Thank you, Nis."

"Wait until later."

"I hate you all."

Hasmal looks up at him, taking a small bite from his own cookie. "Except me, right?"

"Yea, pal, except you. I love you. You're my favorite."

"Aw, thanks Puri, you're my favorite too." The youngest of them hugs their medic around the middle, Puriel smiles, curling his arms around him. "You make me cookies and hot chocolate."

"Is that why I'm your favorite?" He chuckles softly. "Because I make you goodies?"

"No, but it does most certainly help."

"Ah, I see, well, you're welcome."

Nisroc turns, leaning around them to grab his own cookie, he wants to get one before Haniel joins them and eats them all, little piggy that he is. "I thought I was you're favorite, Maly."

"You're my favorite too, Nis, don't worry."

Abraxos smiles down at him. "Am I your favorite too, firefly?"

"You're all my favorites."

"Aww, Maly." They come together, trapping him in a group hug, Hasmal shrieks softly when he feels fingers wiggle into his sides and belly, squirming around in between the three of them. "Group hug."

"Wahahait! Wahahait! Nohoho!"

…

They stalk him as he makes his way around, hanging lights around the rafters, minding his own business, humming to himself as he worked, and they smile, turning to the elder next to them, elbowing them lightly in the side, nodding, gesturing to the youth heading their way, and their companion smiles, nodding along, silently closing their book and setting it aside on the table next to them.

Waiting until he was in position, they turn slightly, reaching over the back of the couch, and capture the back of his short-sleeved shirt, tugging him back sharply. He yelps, shrieking brightly as he tumbles back over the back of the couch, dropping the string of lights as he throws his arms out to catch himself. Grunting lightly as he lands between them, his feet hanging over the back of the couch, they smile down at him.

"Hey, Maly." Abraxos pokes him on the nose, shifting his position, his legs still outstretched, feet resting on the ottoman, ankles crossed lightly. "It's coming together quite nicely."

"It would be nicer if you didn't interrupt me." He glares at him heatedly, squirming around to flip himself over, he was agile like that. Someone pokes him in the belly and he squeaks, jolting lightly, and falls limp as he turns to the other. Puriel smiles down at him. "Where are you going, little guy?"

"Puri, I'm not in the mood, I was in the middle of something."

"What better time to pull you over, then."

Hasmal glares at him too, and squeaks again, jolting closer to his brother on the other side, when the medic pokes him again. "Hey, you know you're not allowed to glare at us."

"Puri, I think he's forgotten what happens when he glares at us."

"I agree, Abe, I think he has too."

"As his older brothers, it's our job to remind him."

"I concur."

"Guys! Guys, this is so not cool!" He throws his head back, covering his face with his hands, and whines dramatically. "I was _dooooing_ something!"

"And, you can return to it once we're done with you." Puriel pokes him in the side and he jolts over against Abraxos on his other side. "Let's get him all squirmy, Abe."

"Why, of course, Puri." He pokes him back, and Hasmal jumps over against the medic, he bounces from side to side, giggling high pitched fledgling-like giggles, for what feels like an eternity. "Look at him, he can't hold still, he's all bouncy and giggly."

The medic nods thoughtfully, smiling down at their giggling baby brother, he stares up at him, as though he knows he's up to something. "I want to poke around just a little," he reaches over for his right hand, curling his fingers around his wrist, and slowly lifts his arm up above his head. "Right here." He leans forward just a bit, dipping his finger under the cuff of his t-shirt. "Just under here." And digs his finger into the younger angel's armpit, Hasmal shrieks softly, curling up as much as he can, laughter erupting from him. "I knew this would be a good idea. My little giggle button."

"Oh, Puri, I have my own giggle button."

"Do share, Abe, do share."

Abraxos smiles at him, basking in his soft uproarious laughter, and reaches his hand back, under the younger angel's shirt. He squeals softly when he wiggles his finger in his belly button, kicking his legs wildly over the back of the couch, squirming harder then ever.

They laugh softly at his suffering for a few minutes. "Abe, do you feel as though he's had enough?"

"I'm not sure yet, maybe a few more minutes."

"Understood."

They carry on for a few more minutes. "Okay, I think he's had enough, Abe."

"I concur, Puri, I concur."

They pull away, reclining back, Puriel lifts his legs up to rest on the ottoman himself, crossing his ankles lightly. Hasmal giggles breathlessly, flipping over on the couch, resting his feet in the medic's lap, and his head in the others. Abraxos smiles down at him, running his fingers through his hair, and he returns his smile, turning into his stomach slightly, hiding his face. "Aww, someone still gets all blushy when you push his giggle buttons, that's so cute."

Puriel chuckles softly, rubbing at his feet gently, nodding along. "Yea, he's still our cute little guy, nothing's changed."

…

One of his favorite things about the cold winter season was eating Nisroc's famous stew, he smiles to himself, at the thought of the taste of it, as he chops the potatoes up. Looking up, he smirks slightly, it's always a good sight to see when _he_ gets a taste of his own medicine. Abraxos has him pinned on his back, holding him down by the waist, and is blowing vicious raspberry after vicious raspberry into his bare belly, his sweater pushed up over his chest. Puriel's laughter had since fallen silent, after the third raspberry, and it was only a disfavor to him that his belly was just so sensitive. Sitting on the couch behind the second oldest Power, Haniel is laughing at him and his predicament, leaning forward to get a better view.

Titus is napping in his room with Sora.

He looks up when he feels someone rub against his back, laying his knife down as arms circle around his shoulders, Nisroc leans over, resting his chin on his shoulder, his beard rubbing against his cheek lightly, and he smiles, rubbing their cheeks together, he feels their Captain smile at the feeling, rubbing their cheeks together again. "Abe, don't kill him, why don't you and Puri give Hani a real reason to crack up like that."

"Hey! Wait! Nohoho!"

Haniel fumbles in his attempt at a quick escape, as both older Powers lunge for him, and Abe tugs him down over the medic, and Puriel wraps his arms around him to keep him in place. He moves his arms up to curl around his chest and digs his fingers under his arms, the younger Power shrieks with laughter, kicking out at the other Power when Abraxos tries to push his sweater up, so he adjusts his position, straddling his legs, he manages to push the sweater up and bury his face in the younger Power's belly and blows a long vicious raspberry, Haniel squeals brightly, kicking his legs under the older Power and trying to pry the medic's fingers out from under his arms.

Their Captain chuckles softly, looking down at the chopped potatoes, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "Those are perfect, Maly." He reaches around him to scoop the potatoes up in his hands, and steps away from him, the youngest of them, turns to watch him, setting his knife in the sink, since he helped cook, he doesn't have to wash it. He returns to his oldest brother's side, ducking under his arm to curl around his side, watching as he stirs his stew, it's runny right now, but it'll thicken up as it simmers. "Now we just let it set, thicken up as it simmers." Nisroc rubs his arm lightly. "Why don't you go save Hani from our vicious brothers."

"And be their next victim?" He shakes his head lightly. "I think I'll pass."

His Captain sets the large wooden spoon down on the counter next to him, and turns, wrapping him in his arms. "Who said you _weren't_ going to be their newest victim?"

He barely has time to process the implications of that question, when he's lifted off his feet, arms curled around him tightly, and his oldest brother is moving him across the room. Haniel's squeals fall silent, he can hear his panting breathless giggles, and a short grunt as he's tossed aside, thumping against the floor next to the medic.

Nisroc bends slightly. "I have another plaything for you two."

"No!" He squirms as arms curl around him from behind. "Betrayal from my own blood!"

"I've always been a traitor, Maly, I thought you remembered that."

Hasmal squirms as arms curl around him from underneath, his head resting in the crook of the medic's shoulder, Nisroc chuckles deviously as he leaves him there to a fate worse then death, and he kicks out at his older brother when he tries to lean over him, he's not going down without a fight, even if his downfall is inevitable, he'll go out fighting the whole way.

Abraxos grunts when he catches him in the jaw, leaning back to rub at his lower jaw, he glares down at him, and he smiles up at him, stretching out to poke him in the cheek with his big toe. "You _little_ shit." His eyes widen when he snatches up his foot, the right one, the one that caught him in the jaw. "Now you're _really_ going to get it."

"You have fifteen minutes." The Captain calls from the kitchen. "Make it count."

"Hey, Abe," the medic's voice rumbles in his head, and the aforementioned Power looks over his head to meet the medic's eyes, he knows he's smiling, he can't see it, but he can feel it. "Remember the toes?"

"Oh," he nods. "I remember the toes."

Hasmal squeals with laughter as he starts to nibble gently on his toes, kicking out with his free foot, Abe had done this all the time before he was taken, usually with Puri holding onto his other foot, Nisroc had been too busy for such frivolous things, but they hadn't been, they'd had a grand old time. "Stopstopstopstop! Bahahahahhahahaeieiaiaiaiahahahhahaha stohohhoohop! Nohohohot theheheheheh tohohohohohoes! Nohohohoho! Ahahahahahhabbehehehehehe!" He pushes his chest with his other foot, but he's like a boulder, unmovable, and he tilts his head to nibble on his baby toe, and he squeals again, tugging desperately at his captured foot. "Whyhyhyyhy mehehehehe!"

"Because," Puri's voice purrs in his ear. "We need to make up for lost time."

"Guys…" Titus joins them, coming to stand at the front of the hall, rubbing at his eyes lightly, rubbing the grains of sleep away. "What's with all the noise?" He turns to look at them curiously. "Sora's napping."

Puriel smiles at him, chuckling over their baby brother's squealing laughter, turning to look at him as he adjusts his grip around their youngest's stomach. "Sorry, he asked for it, kicked Abe in the jaw and everything."

"He did?"

"Mhmm, Abe's just punishing him now, you remember the toes, don't you?"

"Ooohhh I remember me those toes." He smiles at the younger angel when he turns reaching out for him, hoping he was there to aid him, and not them. Never let it be said that that Titus doesn't have a devious side. "Making up for lost time, too?"

"Mhmm, have to catch up on that lost time, he has forty thousand years' worth of tickle tortures to live through."

"Well said, has anyone called dibs on those other toes?"

"No, no, they're open for the taking."

"Cool, I want in on those toes, too." He crosses over to them, claiming the spot next to his older brother, and reaches out for his kicking foot. "Give me that foot."

"Nohoho! Tuhuhuhus! Nohohoho!" He squeals when the older angel catches his foot. "Eeeeeeehehehehhe nohohohoho!"

…

It's Christmas morning, and he wakes up before the sun even rises, smiling to himself, it's his favorite holiday, not for the gifts, though those are nice too, but for the time he gets to spend with his family, more time, less interrupted time.

He turns out of his bed, setting his feet on the cool floor under him, and looks over to his hound. Mon yawns, sitting up at his getting out of bed, and follows him, jumping off the bed, when he stands and makes his way across the room.

Gently opening the door, he steps out into the warm hall, closing the door behind him once more, him and his hound make their way silently down the hall, towards the Lounge, and stop just at the entrance, and he smiles, taking in all the boxes wrapped in silver and gold paper, he's so happy and excited, he can't wait to see what his older brothers have gotten him this year, his second year back, the first Christmas had been bitter sweet, but this one, this one was just sweet, no bitterness to be found.

He turns, creeping his way down the hall again, to the bedroom at the end, and pushes the cracked door open slightly, peering inside. There's a mound under the blankets, soft snoring fills the silent spaces in the room, he sleeps curled up on his side, he always had, it's perfect for cuddling up with him. Pushing the door open just a bit more, he steps in, Mon steps in behind him, and he pushes the door back to it's original state. Era sits up from his fluffy dog bed, his beloved bunny laying over his front paws, looking at them in interest, to see what they're doing here, and he smiles at him, knowing that he can see him in the dark, after being surrounded by darkness for as long as they had, they've become quite adept in seeing in the darkness of night.

Creeping across the floor, he leans over, shaking the oldest Power's shoulder lightly. "Nis?" He whispers. "Nis?"

Nisroc snorts awake, he's always ready to wake if he's needed, so it only takes two shakes to his shoulder. He squints in the darkness, the fire in the fireplace has died down, the embers glowing a bright orange, it's not casting very much light out into the rest of the room. "Mmm, Maly?" He pushes himself up slightly. "Are you alright?" And rubs at his eyes lightly. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Hasmal shakes his head. "No, I didn't have a bad dream. It's Christmas morning, Nis, can we go open gifts?"

A soft warm chuckle reverberates around the room. "How about a bit later, the sun hasn't even risen yet, you should get some more sleep."

"I'm so excited, Nis, I don't think I can go back to sleep."

"No?" He yelps as he's tugged down swiftly, fingers curled in the front of his long sleeved night shirt, and quickly tugged around under the blankets, pulled back firmly against his oldest brother's chest, arms wrapped around his waist, spooning in a platonic sense of the word. A bearded chin rubs against his ear as a tender kiss is pressed over his cheek, before the Captain nods back down against his pillow, the youngest brother tucked under his chin lightly. "How about now?"

Hasmal's so nice and warm, he's cozy, and his big brother makes him relax in his embrace, sleepiness washes over him, they do this all the time when he's too excited and wakes up before the sun has risen, and comes to ask his Captain if they can do whatever's got him so excited, Nisroc pulls him down into his bed with him, and it always makes him sleepy, in his big brothers protective embrace, wrapped in his arms, him as a warm presence behind him, tucking him under his chin lightly, the blankets pulled up over top of him, up under his chin, warm and cozy and protected, it always makes him sleepy. "M'sleepy." Hamon hops up on the bed and curls up at his feet, he always sleeps with him, so he can lick his cheeks if he has a nightmare to wake him up, no matter where he's sleeping.

The chest behind him rumbles as his older brother chuckles softly. "I thought you would be. Go back to sleep. We'll open gifts in a few hours, after the sun has risen."

He yawns softly, nodding down in his big brother's pillow, pulling one of his arms up to curl around his chest, so he can wrap his arms around it, his fingers scratch lightly over the other side of his ribs and fall still. "Mmm, okay, biggest brother."


	123. Two Broken Souls

He twitches two fingers over the two piano keys, a listless tune playing around them in the empty Lounge, his brothers were all out doing their duties, he has none, he's too broken, he can't even handle the simplest of pressures, he's not strong enough to be a Power anymore, his one dream had been snatched from him in one cruel twist of fate, his entire world was taken and shaken up, turned upside down, and shattered. Forty thousand years locked in a space of no time, his brothers were so much older now, they had moved on, even though they pretended they hadn't, his mentor has a new protégé, he can't be upset, he knew it was bound to happen, but he can't help but feel a tad replaced. He knew his older brother would have to find someone else, especially since he couldn't do it anymore, but for him to do it so _soon_ , his mind couldn't comprehend it, his heart couldn't take it, he wasn't his little angel anymore, he'd been replaced, replaced by someone who could do the job he wasn't physically able to do anymore, another one who was taking his place, his dream, he knew he still had a family, but he was an outsider, he didn't know them anymore, so much had changed, too much, there wasn't enough time in the world to catch up on all the things he missed.

He looks down when he feels a warm tongue lick over his cheek lightly, he reaches up to rub at his cheek, pulling his hand away when his fingers meet warm water, tears, he hadn't even realized he was crying, as tears slipping from his eyes. Hamon licks his fingers, whining softly, rubbing his snout over his cheek lightly, nuzzling his cheek gently. "I'm okay, Mon." He rubs at his hounds head lightly, and it whines again, nudging his cheek again, licking away more warm tears. "I don't think I'm okay, Mon. Not like I tell everyone." He lets his hand drop, turning back to the piano, playing with those two keys again. "Everything's so different now. I'm from another time. I don't belong here. Sometimes I wish I could just fade and be done with it." He sighs softly. "I guess I should be grateful, they didn't give my room to someone else, it was just the same, just as I had left it. They cleaned it while I was gone. There wasn't any dust." He rubs at his eyes. "I'm a shell of who I used to be. I'm a character written into a story of another time. I'm not meant to be here anymore."

Hamon sets his paw on his thigh, barking softly, but firmly, and licks his cheek, as though to tell him he belonged no where else but right where he was.

Hasmal smiles slightly. "I guess." He didn't believe him. He turns towards the grand piano, resting his fingers over the keys, and he begins to play, tickling the ivories, his hands gliding over each smooth key. Hamon tilts his head as he listens, his charge always plays from his heart, his broken heart.

"I don't believe it though."

He looks over when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, the angel hound, the other one, the one that stayed with the Captain, Erathaol, he's turned into the kitchen, reaching for a glass, and he freezes when he hears the piano, turning to watch them, he forgoes his glass and crosses into the Lounge. The service hound hops off the bench as the other Returned slides in next to his charge, his voice just as soft as the others, a he joins in, they're two lost souls, not fit for duty, with a home they didn't really belong in, surrounded by a family they didn't really know anymore.

_'Tears on my face I can't take it, If lonely's a taste, then it's all I'm tasting, Do you hear my cry?, I cry, oh'_

Hamon huffs softly, turning towards the stairs, it wasn't him who should be the one with them, not on his own, this was somewhat about his pay grade alone, this was a vulnerable moment that _they_ should be present for. He trots down the stairs, the pianos melody fading as he crosses over the last step. The Captain isn't too far off, standing with his back facing him, his hand resting on his hips as he instructed his trainees in their motions, he trots between pairs of combatants, nudging the Captain's leg with his snout, he looks up at the same time Nisroc looks down.

He frowns, his eyebrows constricting, it was a rarity to see the hound but not the charge, they hardly separated from each other. "Is Maly alright, Mon?"

The service hound barks softly and jerks it's head towards their home above them, Nisroc tilts his head. "Can it wait? Is it important, I've just started my lessons." He barks firmly, tugging on his pant leg with his teeth, and Nisroc nods, gesturing for an Elder to take over, following after the adamant hound. They pause, and Hamon throws his head to the left, Nisroc follows his gesture and frowns again, not quite understanding, but he waves the medic over, Tatrasiel watches her mentor leave her, falling in with his squadron to continue training. Puriel tilts his head at the sight of their Maly's hound there without him, and Hamon barks, trotting forward, clearly wanting the two of them to follow him.

The two Powers follow the service hound to the bottom of the stairs, following him as he begins his ascent upwards, and they fall short when the sound of the piano finally hits them, there's two voices, Puriel's instantly recognizes the first, and it takes a moment, but Nisroc places the other.

_'Can you hold me? Can you hold me? Can you hold me in your arms?'_

Hamon turns to look at them, jerking towards the top, and they continue their ascent behind the service hound, cresting the top stair, they keep quiet, not wanting to disturb the moment. Hamon returns to his spot beside his charge, laying down beside him, resting his head on his front paws.

Erathaol curls inwards and Hasmal reaches over for one of the farther keys. _'Just wrap me in your arms, in your arms. I don't wanna be nowhere else. Take me from the dark, from the dark, I ain't gonna make it myself'_ His fingers stumble, the melody breaks, and he slams his hands down harshly, clearly rather upset. _"Damn it!"_

"Your hands are shaking." The humanoid angel hound plays his fingers over two keys. "I'm surprised you even made it as far as you did."

" _I'm_ surprised to see you're still _alive_."

Erathaol jerks around, tension forming between the two of them. "I could say the _same_ to you."

Hasmal tilts his head downwards, burying his face in his hands. "I wish He'd say _'yes'._ I don't know why He won't let me let go."

"Puri would miss you."

"Puri has Tatra. What would he want with a broken shell, anyway? I can't learn from him. I can't be what he had chosen me to be. He's found my replacement, he doesn't need me anymore, I'm just dead weight."

"Fading now would be the cowards way out."

" _Coming from you?"_ The young retired Power turns to glare at him. "You've asked _just_ as much as I have."

They fall silent, Hasmal's face buried back in his hands, Erathaol playing with the two piano keys. "I'm tired, Mal."

"Me too, Era." He pulls his hands down, setting them to rest on his lap, staring down at the piano keys. "We don't belong here. We're whispers of the past. We stick out like a sore thumb. The worlds changed while we stayed the same."

The angel hound seated next to him on the piano bench hums softly. "You're right. Our place has come and gone. Nis…Nis has gray hairs now, his hair's longer, his beards longer, he's changed, he's….. He's not the one I remember."

Hasmal snorts softly. "At least you weren't replaced…" Puriel shifts slightly, and Nisroc send him a sad glance, they'd all known the medic would have had to take on a new Elect eventually, he could only skip his turn so many times. "I can't really blame him though. He needs someone who can replace him when he's done. A broken shell can't do that. I can barely learn to control what I was created with, I can't learn what he'd need to teach me, I can't do anything, the only reason they keep me here is because they feel bad, and because they don't want me to hurt anyone else if I lose control and they aren't there to contain it."

Erathaol doesn't respond, he just nods, his companion is right, at least he hadn't watched himself be replaced. "I asked Father to let me fade too."

"He keeps telling me no."

"That's what He said to me too."

They sit there in silence, and the fire bender rubs the back of his hand over his nose. "They can never know. They'd only blame themselves."

"Another secret?"

"The darkness holds nothing but secrets."


	124. Breathe (2am)

When he can't sleep, he plays, he plays softly, trying not to wake his older brothers, his one person audience sitting at his side, listening intently to each and every word, there's a message in every tune he plays, and one has to listen carefully if they want to hear it. Hamon could listen to it carefully, he could pick out the message that was attempting to be heard, he was trained by the best of the best, he knows how to find these things. He doesn't care how tired he is, he'd sit there from sun down to sun rise if his charge needed him to, yawning widely and laying on his lap, moving with the motions of his arms as his fingers stroked over the keys, he'll listen, he'll stay awake with him until he turns in to sleep himself, even if it means sleeping at the piano, or crashing in the Lounge to be found and moved in the morning, he'll stay with him no matter how long or how late.

_'Theres a light at each end of this tunnel, you should_

_But you're just as far in as you'll ever be out_

_These mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again_

_If you only try turning around'_

Hasmal's voice is beautiful, it's soft, it's deep, but not too deep, he sounds young, because he is young, and there's so much emotion in it, it drowns in emotion. He pours his heart out into every word, he can hear it, sometimes he wonders of the others can, if they can hear how much their youngest member is hurting sometimes, he knows the medic can, he's been trained to sense such things, but he never broaches the subject, perhaps he's afraid that the boy will pull away if he does, despite how close the two of them are.

He's not afraid though. He'll broach the subject if it's needed and he'll urge the medic to do so as well, in these things, there's no room for being uncertain, you just need to act.

Hamon turns, the boy doesn't even notice him leaving, hoping down from the piano bench, the melody doesn't even falter, there's no pause, no sudden hiccup, it keeps playing out as he trots down the hall. Yawning, he paws the door open, trotting into the dark room, he comes to stand a the end of the bed, licking at the hand that dangles over the edge, the medic's away at the moment, but this one is the second best, he knows almost as much as the medic does, from living and learning through his years.

Fingers curl slightly, and there's a soft quick inhale, a soft snore cut off mid throw. Silver eyes blink down at him, a head of messy dirty blond hair coming into view. Abraxos yawns widely, rubbing at his eyes with his other hand, and turns slightly, he knows why Hamon would be coming to get him, they all know what it means when the service hound wakes them in the middle of the night.

"What's the matter, Mon?"

He barks softly, jerking his head around in the direction of the door, and the Power nods, turning to bend his legs over the edge of the bed, pressing his feet to the smooth stone under them, and pushes himself up to stand.

Hamon turns, trotting ahead, and he follows dutifully behind him, rubbing at his eyes again, he frowns when he turns out of his room and the smooth melody and soft voice hits him.

_'Two AM and I'm still awake, writing this song_

_If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer_

_Inside of me, threatening the life it belongs to'_

"Is he playing at this hour?" Hamon spares him a glance as the hound leads him down the hall, and they pause in at the entrance, listening to their boy play his heart out for them. "Let's wait a moment."

The service hound nods, coming to a halt, sitting down at his side, they stand in the hall just listening. Hasmal doesn't play just to play, not all the time, most of the time, he's trying to say something that he can't get out in simple words, you just had to listen carefully, and you'd hear what he was trying to say.

Next to the medic, this one was the best option, and he wasn't afraid to broach sensitive subjects.

_'And I feel like I'm naked in front of a crowd_

_Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud_

_And I know that you'll use them, however you want to'_

Abraxos leans against the wall, crossing his arms lightly, and looks down at the hound. "Hamon, is he having trouble talking to you again?" The hound nods lightly, looking up at him, and leans down to rub at his snout. "Having trouble opening up?" The hound nods again, setting his paw back down, and the Power nods, turning back to watch their youngest, lost in his own little world.

_'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,_

_And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table_

_No one can find the rewind button now_

_Sing it if you understand.'_

"Hamon," the hound looks back up at him. "Has he been turning inwards again?"

The hound nods lightly.

"Caught in the little picture?"

Hamon barks softly, soft enough that it doesn't interrupt the playing, and Abraxos nods again.

_'And breathe, just breathe_

_Whoa breathe, just breathe'_

The playing comes to a pause, the boy has finally noticed his companions absence, and he looks around for him, turning on the bench to look over his shoulder. "Mon?"

His hound barks loudly, not loud enough to wake the others, thankfully, but loud enough to gain his attention. Hasmal's ember colored eyes widen when his eyes travel from his hound companion to the one standing at his side, Abraxos waves a few fingers at him, smiling slightly. "Everything okay?"

"Sorry if Mon woke you."

"That's not what I asked."

Hasmal looks down to the pearl colored piano keys. "I'm fine."

"That's not what I just heard." He pushes away from the wall, tucking his hands into the pockets of his flannel pajama pants, slouching slightly as he makes his way over to the piano. He turns around the edge, standing at the side of the piano bench, pulling his right hand out of his pocket, he holds it out to him, flexing his fingers lightly. "Come on, little fire breather." Hasmal nods, reaching up to curl his fingers around his hand, standing when he's gently pulled from his seat, and carefully steps around the piano bench. Abraxos squeezes his fingers lightly, gesturing for the boy's hound to follow them, and guides them out of the Lounge, the lights fading softly as they leave the room, making their way back down the hall to his room.

Squeezing his fingers again, he pulls him into his room softly, waiting for Hamon to trot in before cracking the door behind them. He pulls the boy over to his bed, pulling him around to stand in front of him, gesturing to the bed. "Climb in, little fire breather."

Hasmal nods, letting go of his hand, climbing up over his grand mentor's bed (it was an inside joke between him, the older Power, and his mentor—he may not be an Elect anymore, but Puri will always be his mentor) and climbs under the blankets. Abraxos climbs in after him, Hamon hopping up to curl up at the foot of the bed, and he raises his arm for the younger angel. "Come here, little fire breather." Hasmal scoots closer, tucking himself under his arm, curling around his side, resting his cheek against his breast, sighing softly as fingers scratch at the side of his head lightly. "Talk to Abby, little fire breather, tell Abby what's on your mind."

He shrugs softly, scratching a finger over the Power's chest under his head, staring at the spot. "I dunno."

"Thinking about all the changes again?" Abraxos was just as observant as Hamon was, and he wasn't scared to broach the subject of such hindrances, just as the angel hound wasn't. "Talk to me, little fire breather, I'm not going to stop bugging you until you do." He reaches around to poke him in the cheek, repeatedly, over and over again. "I'm not going to stop poking you until you talk to me, even if it takes all night."

Hasmal giggles softly, reaching up to catch his fingers. "Okay, okay…" He nods lightly, curling his fingers between the fingers of the older Power's left hand, and nods lightly once more. "I just…. Everything's changed…. It's all so new…...And I'm…" He tucks the Power's hand under his chin. "I'm still the same."

"There's nothing wrong with that, we wouldn't want you any other way then how you are, just because we've grown a bit older doesn't mean we've changed all that much, we just look a bit different is all." He squeezes him close for a moment. "Have you _seen_ Nis's gray hairs?"

The younger angel giggles softly, and he counts it as a victory, but it turns just as quickly, when those giggles fade out. "But, that's what I mean, I'm still…..I'm still just out of my youngling years, and you guys are….you guys are…"

"Old?"

He nods lightly. "Old. And, and soon you'll fade, be recycled or put to rest, and I'll be all alone again!"

"Hey," Abraxos looks down at him, squeezing his fingers firmly. "Hey, look at me." Hasmal looks up to his grand mentor as he's told to. "That's not going to happen for a long, _long_ time. We're not going anywhere anytime soon. And, don't think, not even for a moment, that we'd up and leave you all on your own. Others will replace us before that time comes, and we'll make sure those others are kind to you, treat you as their family, and we won't accept anything less, we would never leave you knowing that you're not going to be taken care of. And, you'll have Hamon of course, he's going to be around for a long while, he's only a few years older than you, just as we had planned it, so even when we do fade, he'll still be here with you." He flicks his chin with his thumb lightly. "Lord knows, Puri would go fighting tooth and nail if he even had an inkling there was something other then love between you and the others, he loves you _that_ much." He rubs the pad of his thumb over the youth's lower lip. "Don't think about that time, think about now, about the time you're living in, not the time you are _going_ to be living in. Be here in the present. Not in the future. Stay here with us."

Hasmal averts his eyes. "I can't help but to think of the times to come. It's all that comes to my mind, all that my mind can focus on, it's all I can think about."

"Well, think about something else, then."

He nods against his breast, settling down, now that his chest was clear of the weight of the world. "Like what?"

The older Power rubs his thumb over the back of his hand. "Hmm. Think about how much Puri is going to spoil you when he gets back."

He smiles at the thought of it. "Really?"

"Oh, yea, he's going to spoil you rotten, he's been away for nearly two weeks, you're going to be all he thinks about when he gets back." He smiles as the subject changes to something more lighthearted; he can hear the smile in the youth's voice and counts that as another victory. "He could just be cresting the last stair, and you run up all hugs and smiles, and ask him to bake you a dozen of your favorite white chocolate chip cookies, and he'd do it right then, forgoing everything else, no matter how exhausted he is, he'd do it just to make you happy."

"He would?"

"Oh, you know he would, in a heartbeat. That guy adores you to pieces. He'd move the moon for you if you asked, or, at least, he'd try his hardest."

His mind whirls around the idea of cookies, his favorite cookies, warm white chocolate chip cookies, fresh out of the oven, a glass of cool milk to dip them in. "I think I'd like that."

"Then, give it a try, make sure you give him a big bear hug and tell him how much you missed him, melt him a little, bat those little eyes at him all cutely, and he'll bend over backwards to do it."

"You swear?"

Abraxos smiles, closing his eyes lightly, for he knows the youth has closed his, even without looking down to see. He's just that good. "I know him like I know the back of my hand." He rubs his shoulder lightly. "I guarantee it."


	125. Deep Conversation

He rubs his hands together, he'd known, since Hamon had forced them to come listen to their two Returned members, that the subject would have to be broached eventually, but he hadn't known how to do so, so he'd left it be, for the most part. Watching him interact with the others, if he hadn't heard quite the contrary himself, he'd have assumed everything was fine. The little guy was inexplicably well versed in hiding his emotions, a great cause of concern and sadness for him, he used to be able to read the little guy like an open book. But now, now we was as open as a dam, all his emotions locked behind an inescapable wall, it was a fortress, that no one was allowed into, he hopes those barricaded iron doors will open for him.

He waits for him in the doorway, standing in the shadows, he doesn't want to be seen and have his query turn the other way. He waits until he's in place, and snaps out, curling his fingers around his thin shoulder. "Maly, can I have a word with you?"

Hasmal turns to look up at him, smiling slightly, and nods. "Sure, Puri, is everything okay?" Puriel steps aside, and the younger angel steps passed him, into the medic's room, and comes to stand in the middle of the room as he watches his exmentor close the door and turn to face him, Hasmal tilts his head slightly. "Did something bad happen?"

"Maly," he rubs a hand down his face, trying to think of a way to gently broach the subject, and sighs when he finds none, better to just dive head in then to keep floundering. "Why didn't you tell me you felt replaced?"

The young angel stares at him silently, eyes slightly widened, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. "W—What?"

"Maly, why didn't you tell me?"

Hasmal looks to his feet for a moment, fingers curling in the hem of his shirt, and sighs deeply. "Hamon told you?"

"I heard it from _you_." He specifies when the younger angel looks up at him curiously. "The other day, while you and Era were sitting at the piano, Mon came and got us."

"You weren't supposed to hear that."

"I'm glad I did." He steps forward, curling his fingers around the youth's shoulders, and Hasmal looks up at him at his approach. "Why didn't you tell me you felt that way?"

The younger angel sighs. "I didn't want you to feel bad." He shrugs. "Besides, it wasn't all that important."

"Of course, it is important, Maly, anything that involves you is important to me." Puriel moves his hands up, curling his fingers around his cheeks. "It's very important to me."

"Why?" Hasmal looks between his eyes, staring up at the older Power, his own fingers coming up to curl around his wrists. "It's not like it matters. I'm just the tag along now." He averts his eyes. "I can't be your Elect anymore. I can't be what you wanted me to be. I'm useless."

"You replacing me wasn't the only reason I chose you, Maly." He strokes his thumbs over his cheeks. "I chose you because I liked you, and then I grew to love you, you're right, you can't be my Elect any more, but you'll always be my little dragon, my little angel, you don't have to be able to fulfill some duty for me to love you, you just have to be yourself." He smiles down at him as his eyes start to water. "You don't have to be useful to me for me to love you. You'll always be my first. No one can ever take that away from you."

"Y—You're _not_ replacing me?"

The medic shakes his head. "Not in the way you're thinking, yes, I need someone to replace me when my time is done, but I could never find a new little dragon. That'll always be you."

Hasmal stares up at him with wide eyes, as though searching for any dishonesty, and when he finds none, he sniffles softly, reaching up to rub at his nose, reaching out to curl his fingers in the front of the Power's tunic, tugging softly until the medic pulls him in close, wrapping him in his arms, and he was able to bury his face in the older angel's chest. His arms are warm and secure around him, one arm curls around his lower back, and the fingers of the other hand curls around the back of his head, holding him close and secure. He curls his fingers tightly into the back of his tunic tightly, his fingers shaking from the intensity of his grip, and he presses in close, taking in the medic's scent, one that had been lost to him for so long, one that had been robbed from him, one that meant he was home.

Fingers scratch at the back of his head lightly. "You're always going to be my little dragon, Maly, no one will ever take that place in my heart from you."

The boy pulls back, resting his chin over his belly, and tear stained cheeks turn up to him. "Y—You promise, Puri?"

He slides his hands around, cradling his cheeks gently, curling his fingers down around the back of his neck, under his ears. "I'd never lie to you, little dragon. No amount of time will change how I feel about you. And, no other persons will ever take that place you hold in my heart. I haven't replaced you. I could never. Tatra may be my new Elect, but you're still my little angel, my baby dragon. She can't take that from you. I love her, yes, but I loved _you_ first." He curls his fingers around the boy's upper ribs. "Hop up." Hasmal hops upwards, and he bends at the knees slightly, grunting softly as he lifts the boy up off his feet. The younger angel instinctively curls his legs around his waist, and he curls his arms under his bottom. "How's about you and me spend the rest of the day together."

Hasmal leans forward against him, curling his arms around his neck loosely. "What about your medic training, you were supposed to teach them all today."

"That's nothing, wrap a few bandages around it and it's as good as new, I have something more important to tend to."

"I'm more important?"

"You're _always_ more important." He presses their foreheads together. "I can think of a _few_ things we can do." He smiles when the younger angel giggles lightly. "Is that cute little belly feeling lucky today?"

Hasmal giggles again. "Puri, I'm sleepy, can we take a nap before we do that?"

"For you?" The medic rubs their noses together. "Anything." He carries the younger angel over to his bed, staring up at him, Hasmal stares right back down at him, and he smiles, his feet carrying him from muscle memory, he knows the layout of his room perfectly well, he could walk around it just fine blindfolded. "Do you want me to nap with you?" He smiles at his little dragon, rubbing their noses together again, and Hasmal giggles softly. "I have some important lesson plans to go over."

"I want you to nap with me, Puri." He scrunches up his nose when the Power kisses the tip of his nose. "I think I can change my plans for you." He squeezes his thighs gently. "Slide on down and climb in."

The younger angel nods, uncurling his legs from around his waist, he slides down off of him. Kicking his boots off, he turns, climbing up over the bottom edge of the medic's bed. Puriel smiles at him as he snuggles under the blankets, a little bunny burrowing down for a long winter's nap and shakes his head as he steps up to the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket's back slightly, and slides in next to him.

Hasmal immediately scoots closer, practically climbing up over him, and nods against his belly. He chuckles softly, reaching under the blanket to scratch at his head. "Is my belly comfortable enough for you?"

"It's like a big pillow."

He shakes his head slightly, smiling in amusement. "That comfortable, huh?"

"It's like a marshmallow, and I love marshmallows."

"I know you do; I know very well." Puriel scratches at the top of his head lightly. "Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate when we wake up?"

He feels him nod over his tummy. "Yes, please."


	126. Protect At All Times

They'd retreated together, a small trio, to a shadowed corner in the Lounge when the yelling started. It wasn't often that they argued like this, sure, they had their disagreements, but they never lasted this long, they never escalated like this had, they never lasted more than a few hours, let alone days, there was never any yelling, not like there was this time.

Erathaol sat curled up in a ball, his hands clamped over his ears, and Hasmal wondered silently, as he stared at him, if it was because of his sensitive hearing or because of the fighting itself, he looks to his hound, Hamon isn't covering his ears, he's laying in front of him, and he seems to be glaring at the older Powers. He leans into the humanoid angel hound next to him, trying to give a sense of comfort by presence, there was little else he could do, he didn't want to say anything, lest it turn their attention over to him, he didn't want to be yelled at for nothing.

They don't know what caused this massive eruption between the closest set of brothers they know, it must have been serious though, for them to be at each other's throats like this.

He flinches at the sharpness in his mentor's tone, as he shouts something at their Captain, and Nisroc yells back, Abraxos yells as Nisroc for yelling at his Elect, and Titus yells at Puriel for yelling at his mentor. They don't even notice them, even though Era is mumbling, he can hear it, Hamon can hear it, his ear twitches back towards them, he hears Era's soft mumbling **_(stopstopstopstopstopstop!)_** and he hears his visible flinch, and he tenses, like a hound does before they pounce.

Hasmal curls his own hands over his own ears, curling up slightly, bending forward on himself. _"Please stop fighting."_ He whispers softly. He sees Hamon's ear twitch back again, he's heard him and his soft cry, and he looks up when he hears a deep dangerous growl, threatening, and at first he turns to look at Erathaol, thinking it was him, but he's still curled up, mumbling for them to stop under his breath, eyes clenched shut tightly.

They'd seen this before, it had been _Her_ favorite trick, and it _always_ ended in _one_ way, blood would be spilled and lives would be lost, and they'd be here to witness it all.

He looks back around he when hears that same threatening growl a second time, staring at Hamon with wide eyes, his hound is so docile, he didn't think he had a threatening bone in his body. But there he was, glaring daggers at the older Powers, growling deep threatening growls, ears pressed flat against his head, as tense as a spring right before it popped.

_"Mon, make them stop."_ He calls softly, and his hound growls again, deeper, even more dangerous, as though he'd heard his request over the pitch of the yells and the reverberations of his dark growls rumbling in his chest.

Hamon jumps, a spring let loose, darting forward, barking loudly, teeth bared, snapping and growling and barking as he jumps at the older Powers. He sinks his teeth into the flesh of the one that caused his charge the most grief, jerking his head with his grip around their calf, he hears a yell of pain, and he tugs again, he wants him to feel just as bad as he made his charge feel, he wants them to feel just as much pain as his charge felt watching his beloved older brothers have at each other's throats like a pack of rabid wolves. The leg follows him, he tugs so hard, he tastes blood on his tongue, and he resists the urge to gag, strengthening his resolve, he tugs again, jerking back, and he hears a heavy body hit the floor with another yell of pain, hands push at him and he growls, letting go of the calf to snap at the fingers.

He jumps around when fingers curl into the scruff of his neck, bending agilely around, and sinks his teeth into their wrist, they shout, immediately pulling away, and he jumps around, blood staining his canines, barking and growling dangerously at the lot of them. Two of them hold up their hands placatingly, defensively, backing away a step.

"Hamon!"

The hound jumps around, forward, teeth bared, at the one kneeling beside him, and they jump backwards as he lunges forward, throwing their arms up when it appears, he's going to get their face.

The fighting's stopped, their all too focused on the docile service hounds sudden attack, Hamon growls at them all, daring them to start their yelling again, and stalks away, first to his water bowl, to clear the taste from his mouth, it's disgusting, it nearly makes him gag, and stalks around the one sitting on the floor, clutching their profusely bleeding calf, and growls at them again as he returns to his charges side. He nudges his charge's left hand away with his snout, and licks his cheek, nuzzling it with his snout, licking at his cheek and hand until his breathing calms down, and moves over to the younger angel hound, sitting there in his tight ball, licking his cheek too, he crosses around to lay in front of them, baring his teeth again, taking note of the elders stares, and growls lowly, daring them to make things worse.

The fighting doesn't return, as one clutches at their bleeding wrist, another clutches desperately at his torn calf, and the ones he hadn't gotten to rush in to help them.

"Haniel." Nisroc's tone is firm, he's still stunned by Hamon's violent outburst, his eyes glued to the hound, the two behind him still unseen to his eyes, it was an unfortunate oversite. "Go get the Healer and Akriel."

Hamon raises his head defiantly, if he thinks he's going to turn into a remorseful puppy at the mention of retrieving his master, he has another thing coming, he'd bite him too if he hurt his charge as much as they had.

It doesn't take long for the Healer and his Virtue to arrive, the Healer is immediately drawn to the worse of the two, Puriel grits his teeth, gripping his torn calf tightly as the Healer kneels, pulling blood-soaked hands away. "What happened!"

Titus answers for him, as the medic can't ungrit his teeth, lest he shout in pain. "Hamon attacked."

Akriel's the first one in the whole mess to notice the two huddled in the corner, and he makes his way to them quickly, kneeling in front of the one who's worse for the wear, Erathaol doesn't respond to his soft calls, still tightly wound, muttering under his breath, as though it hadn't registered for him that the fighting had stopped.

The mental specialist doesn't do it often, especially after what his sister had done with that particular gift, but sometimes desperate measures called for such desperate actions. He curls his hands around the humanoid angel hound's head and whispers softly, Hasmal watches from between his fingers as a warm soft glow emanates around his fingers, and Erathaol slowly stops rocking, slowly stops muttering, and his eyes slowly open, the tension slowly leaving him, and Akriel helps guide him back as he falls limp.

He's startled at first, jerking his head around to watch him lay his friend down, and as though he feels the eyes on him, the mental specialist turns to look at him. "I just calmed him down, think of it as a slight drugging, he's going to be pretty lethargic, but he'll be okay, his panic attack was too consuming."

Hasmal nods, as though he understands, and the mental specialist turns to him, curling his fingers around his as gently as he can, pulling his hands away. "It's alright, you're alright, take a deep breath for me, take a deep breath." Hasmal nods, inhaling softly and deeply, watching the Virtue as he instructs him softly to let his breath go. "It's alright, there you go, focus on your breathing." He nods again, in through the nose and out through the mouth, until he feels himself calm down. Akriel pushes him back lightly, laying him on his back, and turns to the hound, snapping his fingers at him, he waits until he garners his attention, and waves a finger over the fire bender's prone form. Hamon barks softly, standing from his position, and climbs up over the young angel, laying down over his belly, a warm comforting presence.

He rubs a hand over the hounds head. "Good boy."

"You're going to _praise_ him!"

He turns to glare at the Captain from over his shoulder. "Yes, yes I am. He was protecting his charge, had you all not been so caught up in your petty argument, you'd have seen what you were doing to the two of them." Akriel gestures to the hound. "His charge asked him to make the fighting stop and he did as he was asked." He pats the hounds head again. "He did good."

Raphael nods in agreement, wrapping the medic's leg firmly. "I agree."

"Maly?" The guilt is evident in the medic's tone as the inclination that he had harmed his little dragon sunk in. "Maly?" Puriel struggles to stand, hissing when it pulls on his leg wound, the pain was a physical reminder of his harming his beloved baby dragon. "Maly?" He hisses and drops back down, reaching up for the Healer's hand, tugging on it desperately, he had to get to his little guy's side, to make sure he was okay.

Raphael looks down at him when he feels the tugging on his hand, and purses his lips, but he has an understanding heart, the medic felt guilty for his wrong doing and wanted to make amends. "Easy on that leg." He orders softly as he pulls the younger Power to his feet, Puriel hisses again and nearly falls over, but he's on a mission, and a little flesh wound isn't going to keep him from his baby dragon's side.

With the Healer's help, he hobbles over to Hasmal's side, slowly eased down into sitting beside him, and he turns to look down at him immediately. He brushes his fingers through his hair, brushing his hair back, smiling down at him softly. "I'm so sorry, baby dragon, can you ever forgive me?"

Hasmal blinks up at him. "I don't like it when you guys get mad at each other."

"I know, we're sorry, we know you don't like it."

The youth tilts his head lightly. "What were you even fighting about?"

Puriel bites his lip lightly. "You know, I can't even remember, it must not have been that important."

"Promise not to fight ever again?"

"I can't promise that, baby dragon." He taps him on the nose. "We're brothers, and sometimes brothers fight, but we'll try and make sure it doesn't get this out of hand again."

They look over as Nisroc kneels on Erathaol's other side, sliding one arm under his knees and the other around his shoulders, he lifts him up as he stand, cradling him in his arms, and he smiles down at him apologetically, turning to carry his hound back down to his room, where he could rest more comfortably on his bed.

Abraxos kneels on his other side, reaching out to scratch his cheek lightly with his finger. "I'm sorry, little fire breather, we should have known better."

"I'm sorry Mon bit you," he looks over to his mentor. "You too, Puri."

"Don't be, baby dragon."

"He's right," the older Power assures. "We deserved it."

Hasmal looks between them both, yawning softly, his fingers curling in the fur on the back of Hamon's neck. "Abe, Puri, can we take a nap together?"

They smile down at him. "Sure we can little guy."


	127. Protective Papa Bear

"Nis, how dare you not tell me we were supposed to meet in the Throne Room!" The medic shouts as his Captain appears, behind the others, cresting the top of the stairs. "What was it for! Why were you called there! How could you not include me! We do everything together when it comes to something so obscure as to be called to the Throne Room." He steps away from his mentor as Abraxos tries to reach out for him, the medic is upset, his voice is raised, and that's the last thing they need right now, there was no telling as to what would startle their recently Returned member. "Well, what was it!"

Nisroc looks up at him. "Pu—"

"Puri?"

He knows that voice, the last time he heard that voice it was screaming his name, hands reaching out to him, begging him to save him, he'd struggled against his Captain's restraint to jump at him, reaching out for him in return, and then he was gone. That voice was gone. Silenced, muffled, like a candles flame blown out. He never thought he'd hear that voice again, he'd thought it was lost to him, lost forever, haunting his nightmares.

The medic steps forward, searching out the source of that voice, as though to prove to himself it wasn't a foul joke. Titus steps aside slightly, and those achingly familiar burnt orange eyes peek around the younger Power's arm, and he feels the ground fall out from under him, it feels like he's floating, this doesn't feel real.

Puriel takes another step forward. "Maly…Baby dragon…" He takes another small step. "Is it…It is really you?"

"Puri!" The boy runs forward, darting away from both Power's standing with him, out from under Nisroc's arm, the Captain's jacket falling from his shoulders. "Puri!"

He barely has time to open his arms before he's being rammed into, arms curling around him tightly, a face pressing into his upper belly, and he curls his arms around him in return, curling his right hand around the back of his head. "Maly, my little Maly." He bends slightly, pressing his lips to the top of the youth's head, squeezing him closer. "I thought I'd never see you again, my Maly, my baby dragon."

"Puri! Puri, I missed you!" He presses his face into the medic's upper belly, curling his fingers in the back of his tunic, holding on as though his life depended on it. "I was so scared, Puri, it was so dark, there was so much silence, it was so scary! Everything's so different now, Nis looks different, Abe too, it's all changed!"

"Sshhh, sshhh, you're alright." Puriel strokes his hand down the back of his head, scratching lightly at his scalp, pulling him in closer, if any closer was a remote possibility at this point. "I think you'll find the only changes we've gone through are in appearance only. We're all still quite the same." He reaches his hands down, curling his fingers around his middle. "Hop up." Hasmal hops up obediently, and the Power lifts him off his feet, pulling him up into his arms. The younger angel wraps his legs around his waist instinctively, curling his arms around his neck as he hugs in close again, burying his face in the side of his neck. "I really, really missed you, Puri!"

"I missed you too, Maly, I missed you so much." He leans over, pressing his cheek against his little Elect's ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, pressing in firmly. "I'm never letting you go again; can you ever forgive me, can you ever forgive me for letting you go?"

"I was never upset," Hasmal pulls away from the side of his neck, tears streaming down his face. He coos softly, kissing away the tear tracks, rubbing his nose over his cheek lightly. "Your hand slipped. I was never upset, Puri, I promise, I never was."

"Don't cry, baby dragon, don't shed any tears, its's okay."

"I can't help it!" The little fire bending Elect cries softly. "I'm just so happy!"

"I'll say," Nisroc's amused voice cuts in softly. "That's the most emotion, and the most words, I've heard from him in the hours he was returned to us."

"Well, of course, it's to be expected." Titus interjects quietly. "He loves us all dearly, but he adores Puri, of course he'd be the one to the get the tears and speech."

"How about me, little fire breather?" Abraxos touches his arm lightly, and his ember colored eyes turn to look at the older Power, he smiles up at him softly, reaching up to rub his cheek fondly, of course, with him being the boy's mentor's mentor, it was to be expected for them to be rather close as well. "Did you miss me, too?"

Hasmal giggles a soft wet little giggle. "I missed you too, Abby."

"I'm never setting you down, never." Puriel draws his attention away from the older Power and back to him. "Never, ever."

"What if you have to use the restroom?"

"Okay, you cheeky little thing, I'll set you down for one thing, but then I'll scoop you right back up." He brushes their noses together. "But, other than that one thing, I'm never letting you go."

Hasmal leans in closer, pressing their foreheads together, staring at him deep in the eye. "You promise?"

"I swear." He brushes their noses together. "I'm not letting you out of my sight." He brushes their noses together again. "I'm giving you all the things I couldn't give you for the last forty thousand years; I'll bake you any sweet you want, any, you just ask, I'll make you all the hot chocolate your little heart desires, with all the marshmallows and whipped topping you can dream of, you get everything, I'm going to pamper you, absolutely pamper you, and, oh, the tickles you're going to get."

The young Returned giggles just at the thought of it, leaning in to brush their noses together again. "I really missed you Puri."

Puriel smiles at him, leaning in closer to peck his nose. "I really missed you too, baby dragon." He pecks him on the nose again. "What do you want, I'll make you anything, from steak to cake, you just ask."

"Puri, wait, there's a few things you need to know before you whisk him off."

The medic looks over his boy's shoulder to his Captain. "What?"

"He's going to be a bit chilled for a while, so he needs to be bundled up."

"Got it, I'll get him bundled up, and then I'll cater to him."

"He can't be on his own for right now."

"Um, did you not hear me just say I'm not letting him out of my sight?"

Nisroc chuckles, nodding lightly. "Touche, go pamper him, he needs it."

"Oh, you bet." The medic turns away from them, carrying his little angel away, and they disappear down the hall. He smiles up at his little baby dragon. "First things first, a nice hot bubble bath," he carries him down the hall towards the washroom in the back. "Then, we'll get you all bundled up, I'm talking nice warm flannel pajamas, but wooly socks, a scarf and cap, no mittens though, so you can eat." He carries him into the washroom. "Then it's supper, I'm thinking this particular situation calls for a nice juicy steak, some potatoes, and broccoli, of course, I'm a medic, there has to be something healthy. And, for dessert, your favorite, hot fudge lava cake." He squeezes his thighs lightly in the indication that he's going to set him down, and Hasmal uncurls his legs from around his waist, settling on his feet once he's set down. "And, then I'm thinking a movie as we settle down for bed, a Christmas movie, one of your favorite kinds, while I rub your shoulders, just as I know you like."

The younger angel smiles up at him, surging forward, hugging around him again, presses his ear to his upper belly. "I really missed you, Puri, really, really, missed you! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Hey," he curls his arms around him. "Don't think about that any more, you're back, I've got you, and that's all that matters." He scratches his fingers through the hair on the back of his head. "Now, you focus on taking a nice hot bath, don't forget to add bubbles, and I'll set out your warm pajamas out and stoke up the fire in my room, so it's nice and warm when we retreat there after supper."

"But, Puri, what if you get too warm?" Hasmal rubs a finger over his chest just before his eyes. "I don't want to inconvenience you."

"You could never." The Power pokes him on the nose lightly. "I run a bit on the cooler side too, that's why I'm always wearing long sleeved shirts, so don't even worry about it." He pinches the youths nose lightly. "Now, you take your bath, take your time, I'll have your pajamas set out on my bed when you're finished, and I'll be down in the kitchen preparing your supper."

"Okay, Puri." Hasmal smiles softly. "Can I have a lot of bubbles?"

"You have as many bubbles as your little fiery heart desires."

"Okay!"


	128. Two Sides Of The Same Coin

**Rahatiel speaking**

**_Sablo speaking_ **

**_…_ **

**'You should tell him.'**

**_'Right, and have him think I'm crazy, or I'm unfit to be his Elect, or have him get mad at me. He wouldn't believe me, anyway.'_ **

**'Abe is a lot more openminded then you give him credit for. He'd believe you. Does he even think you know me?'**

**_'He has never brought you up before. It's probably too painful for him to talk about.'_ **

**'You need to tell him. I want him to know I'm okay. Please, little brother, I want him to know I'm okay.'**

Sablo sighs, rubbing at his head lightly, and nods, pushing himself up from the couch he'd been reclining on. He owed it to Rahatiel to let him get his message across to their mentor, he'd helped him get to where he is now, he'd been his guiding voice for all his life, he owed him this one thing.

He walks through the Lounge slowly, sticking his hands in his pockets and slouches forward, crossing over to the hall, he walks down to the door of his query, and he stares at it for a long moment.

**'Please, little brother, please. He needs to know.'**

He nods again, raising his fist, he knocks on the door. He hears movement inside, the creaking of a bed as someone rises from it, movement as someone crosses the floor, and the door swings open. His mentor smiles down at him, and he feels something inside of him shift, Rahatiel's paying attention. "What can I do for you, Sab?"

Sablo rubs at his head again and nods to himself, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Abe, can I talk to you, in private?"

The second oldest Power raises an eyebrow lightly, and nods, stepping to the side to allow him entrance, and gestures for him to come in. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, everything's fine, I just, I don't want the others to hear."

Abraxos hums softly, closing his door behind his little Elect, and turns to face him once he has. Sablo stands in the middle of his room, in the way the light hits him, he swears he sees gold speckles in his brown eyes, he's never noticed that before, perhaps he just wasn't paying all that much attention to it, they make his eyes shimmer in the way the light hits them. "What's going on?"

Sablo rubs at the back of his head lightly, taking a deep breath, he's never told anyone, mainly because he was sure they'd never believe him. He can feel Rahatiel shifting, it's almost like he's poking him, urging him on, to tell their mentor everything.

He takes a deep breath and looks up at his mentor. "Ummm…..Okay…..I've never told anyone….But he says you need to know…." The second oldest Power tilts his head as if to ask _'who?'_ and he continues on. "Raha wants you to know he's okay."

Abraxos inhales sharply, staring at him with wide eyes, and he stares back, not sure what to say now that he's said it. "Where did you hear that name?" He's never told the young Elect about his second Elect, it was too painful, he'd been lost in the war, another casualty, one that he missed dearly and couldn't speak about. "How do you know that name?"

"He um…He told me?"

He stares at the boy with scrutiny. "He couldn't have. He's dead. Do you think this is some sort of amusing joke?"

**'You have to tell him. Tell him everything. He'll believe you. Trust me.'**

Sablo nods again and heaves another sigh, this is so awkward, because it was so unbelievable. "Maybe…Maybe we should sit down."

He stares at the boy, into his speckled eyes, and when he sees no signs of deceit, he nods, stepping around him to sit on the edge of his bed, gesturing for his young Elect to follow him, to sit next to him. Sablo nods once again and follows, sitting next to him on the bed, and fiddles with his fingers. "I…um…..I never told anyone because I didn't think they'd believe me." He looks up at the Power beside him. "We were…He was reborn….I'm him and he's me….We've always been together, he was my only companion growing up, the only one my brothers couldn't take from me…." Abraxos nods, as if to indicate he's still following along. "He was the one that asked if I wanted to be a Power, he told me, about what happened to him and how he died and all about you….He _really_ loves you….He helped me train, telling me how to do certain things, things that would gain one of you guys attention….I _hoped_ I got your attention so he could be with you again because he deserves to be happy, even if you didn't know it."

"So…. So, you're both in there?" He pokes him in the forehead lightly.

He nods. "We share. I'm in control most of the time, but sometimes, in training, he'll take control. He was the one who helped me escape from the other side when they found out I was a spy."

Abraxos looks him in the eyes, staring, looking for any signs of falsehood to be had. He finds none. "So…So he's here now?" Sablo nods. "He can…He can hear us?" He nods again. "Can he…Can he see me?"

**'Tell him that I missed him. Tell him I missed him.'**

"Mhmm." Sablo tilts his head. "He says he missed you."

Their mentor turns to him, reaching up to caress his cheeks, and looks between his eyes. "Can….Can I talk to him.

**'Oh, please, please let me talk to him. Please, little brother, please, can I talk to him?'**

**_'Yea, you can talk to him.'_ **

The boy nods, as best he can with the hands caressing his cheeks, and he watches his eyes fade, gold consumes them where the brown had before, and instead of the gold speckles in brown eyes, there's brown speckles in gold eyes.

**"Woah! Wow, this is what it feels like to be in charge?"** He looks down at his hand the best he can, flexing his fingers. **"This is so cool."**

"Raha?" Abraxos calls softly, a slight pitch to his tone, and the hand drops, golden speckled eyes turn to look up at him, and the boy smiles, tears making his eyes glisten. "It is really you, Raha?"

**"Abe? Abe, I missed you so much!"** The boy jumps forward, between his arms, and hugs himself as close as he can. **"It's me, Abe, it's me! I'm okay! I've always been okay! I tried to get Sab to tell you sooner, but he was scared you wouldn't believe him!"**

"Raha…" He curls his arms around the young Elect, curling the fingers of his right hand through the curls on the back of his head, curling around him as much as he can. "Raha, I am so sorry…I am so sorry I couldn't save you…I tried so hard..I would have given my life for you."

**"No, no, papa, no. I wouldn't want you to do that. There's many others you could have saved, like you saved me, you gave me the chance of a lifetime, I wouldn't have wanted you to die. I was okay, you held me, you held me until I went, I was okay."** He curls around him, curling his fingers in the back of the Power's shirt, pressing himself closer. **"I've been here with you. I was so happy when you chose Sab, he needed you, you make him so happy. He's too shy to call you 'papa' but that's what he calls you when we talk about you."**

The second oldest Power smiles lightly. "He does?"

**"Yea, he really loves you, and he secretly loves it when you give him tickles."** He can hear the slyness in his tone, and it makes him chuckle softly, he can tell he's rather fond of his companion. **"I'm the one who wakes him up in the morning, you'd never know it, but if you don't wake him up, he won't wake up. You should see him. You'd think I was killing him he squirms so much."**

**_'Don't tell him that! What are you doing, Raha! Now he's going to be extra mean!'_ **

**"He says he needs all the tickles you can give him because it makes him so happy and he loves spending time with you."**

**_'I do love spending time with him, but I never said that! Are you betraying me? You are! I let you talk to him and this is how you thank me!'_ **

**'I could have forced you, but I didn't, because I'm nice.'**

**_'You are not! You're just as bad as he is!'_ **

**'Can I help it that I like making my little brother laugh?'**

**_'You are just as bad as he is!'_ **

**'What can I say? I learned from a true master.'**

"Are you guys talking?" He's pulled from his thoughts at the sound of his mentor's voice, Abraxos smiles lightly, holding him as close as he can. "You fell pretty quiet."

**"Yea, we talk a lot, he keeps me company and I keep him company. I love him, he's my best friend, my little brother."**

"I love you both _so_ much." The Power pulls him back slightly, meeting his eyes once more, and leans in to kiss him on the forehead. "Thank you, for telling me."

He watches those eyes fade again, gold fading to brown, and the brown speckles fade to gold, he assumes that means Rahatiel has stepped back and Sablo has returned to him, he looks between his eyes carefully. "Sab?"

"It's me, you're welcome." The young Elect hugs his mentor tightly. "Sorry for not telling you sooner. I just didn't think you'd believe me."

"Thank you, Sab, thank you so much." He hugs the boy tightly, curling around him as much as he can, curling his fingers back through his curls. "Thank you, for letting me talk to him."

"He would have pestered me until I let him."

**'Oh, I would have been brutal, your wings and belly wouldn't have known what hit them.'** He hears his companion laugh softly in his head and he stiffens, when he feels invisible fingers flutter over his belly, and quickly curls an arm around himself, as though that could stop him. **'That won't stop me, and you know it, I'm the only one who can get you and not have to fight to get you too.'**

**_'You are an asshole.'_ **

**'Careful, little brother, I know about that ONE spot, that not even Abe's found yet. You don't want me to have to punish you for being disrespectful, do you?'**

"What's he saying?" Abraxos is starting to realize that the color of their eyes seem to fade a bit when they're communicating, and he guesses they're talking, when he sees them fade slightly. "Is he being nice?"

Sablo smiles softly, nodding his head, rubbing his cheek against the Power's chest. "I called him an asshole and he's threatening to punish me for it."

"Mmm, that's not nice."

"He was being one!" He squeezes the Power's arm lightly. "Don't take his side!"

"I'm not taking anyone's side." The mentor squeezes him in return. "But, if he thinks he must punish you for being disrespectful, then I agree, you're lucky it wasn't me you called an _'asshole'_."

Sablo closes his eyes as he hears his constant companion laugh again. **'He's given me permission!'**

**_'Big brother, don't you dare!'_ **

**'You must be punished for such language.'**

**_'Don't you dare, Raha!'_ **

**'Oh, I dare, you don't scare me, little brother.'**

"Get him good, Raha."


	129. Returning What Was Lost

"Father, you asked to see me?"

"Yes," the tall Man turns at the sound of his voice, gesturing for him to come forward, and Abraxos steps into the Throne Room, draping the extra cloak over his arm, having brought it just like he was told to, he didn't understand, he'd understood bringing his own, it was pouring, and no one wanted to get caught in that chilly rain unawares. He couldn't wait to get back to his room, with his warm mug of tea waiting, his fireplace blazing warmly, and the extra blankets pulled back waiting for him to slide in, and his favorite book resting on the nightstand waiting to be read again. "Come in, Abraxos, just a moment longer, you brought the extra cloak, good, very good, you're going to need it."

"Father, I don't understand."

"All in due time, son, all in due time, just another minute, if you please."

"Of course, Father, there's no rush."

"I appreciate your patience, son, these things take delicate care."

"Dad?" A soft voice interrupts the silence that had fallen over them, and his eyes widen, he knows that voice, it had been so _long_ since he last heard that voice. "Dad, is that Abe? Is Abe here?" He steps forward as his Father chuckles, he needs to see for himself, to make sure this wasn't some cruel trick of the mind, his Father has a great sense of humor, but he doesn't think He could be that cruel. "I really miss him, Dad."

"He really misses you too, son." Father leans over to kiss someone on the head. "I think you'll be happy with who I've asked to join us, then." He steps aside, and that's when he sees them, those honey colored eyes stare back at him, and he stares right back at them in turn, he's not sure of which words to use, and, as it seems, neither does the other. Father steps out of the way, to give them their privacy, and he steps forward, tossing the extra cloak down to rest on the table next to them younger angel. "Chayyliel?"

"Abe?" Those honey colored eyes still stare up at him, wide and unsure. "Abe, is it really you?"

"It's me, Chayy, it's really me," he reaches out for the boy, he can't hold himself back any longer, he needs to know he's real, that this isn't some trick, that he's really back, like Puri had Maly back. "Is it you, is it really my littlest Elect?"

"Abe!" Chayyliel throws himself forward, and he catches the younger angel as he falls off the table, curling him tightly in his arms, spinning him around gently. "I've missed you, little chameleon, I've missed you so much."

The young Returned curls around him tightly. "I thought I'd never see you again, Abe, I thought…..I thought….It was so dark and scary! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I'm never letting you go again, Chayy, never." He hugs himself around the boy as much as he can, clutching to him just as tightly as the boy clutches onto him. "I've missed you so much." He pulls back slightly, cradling his cheeks with his fingers, looking back into those honey colored eyes. "I've missed you _so_ much, my little chameleon, with all my heart."

"Abe, you look so different now, everything is so different!"

"In appearance only, I'm sure you'll come to find I'm still as you remember me, just like the others are." He leans in, pressing their foreheads together. "The only change is our appearance."

Chayyliel looks him in the eyes, staring, smiling brightly, and he smiles back, rubbing their noses together. "Abe, am I coming back with you?"

They both turn to their Father, and He chuckles, nodding His head. "I planned on you taking him back. Make sure to bundle him up securely. The last thing we want is him catching a cold on his way back home."

Abraxos nods, smiling at his Father, and then turns back to smile at his young Returned elect. "You're coming back with me. You'll sleep with me tonight, for the next nights, until you're ready to go back to your own room."

"I—I don't know, Abe, I don't want to be alone."

"You can stay with me for as long as you need to, I would never turn you away, my bed is your bed too. You sleep with me for as long as you need." He cradles his cheeks again. "If that means you sleep with me for the next year, then I'll take the left side of the bed, and you can cuddle up on the right." Abraxos reaches for the extra cloak he's tossed next to the younger angel on the bed, shakes it out, and curls it around his shoulders, fastening it at the neck. "I've got the fire going, and extra blankets, my rooms nice and warm, I'll make you a mug of warm apple cider, your favorite, and we cuddle on down together, just you and me." He pulls the hood up over his curls. "I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again."

Chayyliel smiles up at him from under the hood, the cloak is one of his own, meaning it dwarfs the boy in size, it's nearly below his knees.

He pulls his hood back up, returning the boy's smile, and reaches down, curling his fingers around the boy's ribs. "Hop up." Chayyliel hops slightly, and he grunts softly as he lifts him up, off his feet, and into his arms. The younger angel curls his legs around his waist, and he curls his arms under his bottom, as the youth curls his arms around his neck, and rests his head on his shoulder.

Father smiles at them as he turns to face Him, His eyes twinkling, He loves watching His children reunite again. It always makes His heart swell with joy. "Thank you, Father."

"No thanks is necessary; I'm only doing what is deserved."

He smiles at his Father, and turns, his boots thumping against the soft granite gently. Chayyliel presses into the side of his neck, his chin resting on his shoulder, and he steps out from under the awning, rain pelting their heads as he makes his way down the steps. The boy's legs would be soaked by the time they got back, but at least it wasn't all of him, their cloaks were water proof and warm, he'd be dry, for the most part.

Chayyliel lifts his head slightly to look around at their darkened home. Candles flicker in windows of different homes, cottages, and cabins. In some, he can see the roaring fireplaces heating the inside, the smoke coming out of the chimney on the roof. He looks up to the left, seeing the entrance to the Infirmary, he catches a glimpse of emerald green and he smiles, reaching up to wave slightly, it's too dark to see if anyone waves back, but the emerald green winks at him and disappears. He looks to the right, as they pass the Choir Pantheon, the great lanterns that hang under the awning glow in the darkness, candles are in the windows.

His feet are cold by the time they make it to the training field, Abraxos' boots squelch into the muddy path as they step into puddles and thick cakes of thick mud, the rain stops pelting at his hood when they step up under the awning, and he looks up again as they start the incline up the stairs to the Pavilion. He's home, he's finally home, back with his mentor and brothers. He's home. He's back. He's with Abe. Right where he belongs.

The Lounge is empty when they finally crest the last stair, and so is the kitchen, but he can hear activity in the hall. They're all in their rooms, he doesn't know if he's ready to see them all just yet, he'd a bit overwhelmed still, and he knows that Abe knows that.

They turn into the third door on the right side, and Abraxos closes the door softly with his heel, and steps into the room.

It's nice and warm, the rain pelts against the window panes heavily, and the fire crackles as it burns. He carries him over to set him down on the edge of the bed, and kneels, reaching for his feet. "Your feet are freezing, Chameleon, absolutely frozen." He curls each foot inside his cloak, drying them off, and stands, reaching out to unclasp the cloak from around his neck, turning to hang both his and his own on the hooks next to the wardrobe, before the fireplace, to dry, and reaches into his wardrobe for a pair of thick socks.

He returns to his side and kneels. "Here we go, put your feet in these."

Chayyliel slips his feet into the thick wool socks, and Abraxos turns, leaning over to untie his boots, kicking them off next to his wardrobe.

"Abe?"

"I'm coming, Chayy, I'm coming." The Power turns back towards him, gesturing to the blankets, and he smiles, taking that as his order to climb under them, and he does, crawling up to the head of the big bed and crawls under the blankets, peeking out from under them as he watches his mentor mop up the muddy boot prints on the floor, so they don't slip on them if they were to get up in the middle of the night for the restroom or to get a drink.

Then he returns to his side, climbing in under the blankets next to him, and he turns onto his side for a moment, reaching out for the younger angel. Chayyliel slides up between his arms and presses himself close, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the warmth of his person, taking in the scent that he'd missed for so long. Fingers thread between the curls on the back of his head as arms curl around him, rubbing in gently, and he curls his fingers into the front of his night shift.

"I missed you so much, Chayy, so very much." He presses a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so happy to have you back, so happy, I can't even begin to express it with words."

"I missed you too, Abe, I missed you with everything I had." Chayyliel burrows into his chest. "You're all I thought about. You're what kept me going. I knew someday I'd be back. I knew Father wouldn't abandon us there. I knew it." He pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead to his mentor's, staring him in the eyes. "I knew it, Abe."

Abraxos smiles at him softly. "I never gave out on hope either, Chameleon, never, I knew I'd see you again. I never lost hope of that." He rubs their noses together. "Are you sleepy?"

The young Returned elect nods slightly. "Yes, but I don't want to go to sleep yet."

"I understand," the Power turns around slightly, resting back against the pillows lightly, the younger angel laying over his belly gently. "I'm going to read a bit, I'll read to you, and if you happen to fall asleep then, you'll fall asleep in my arms, alright?"

He smiles, letting his eyes close gently. "Okay, Abe."


	130. The Birthday Of All Birthdays

**Rahatiel speaking**

**_Sablo speaking_ **

…

**'Little brother, I think the idea is marvelous, I truly do, but what if it harms you? Abe would never forgive himself if he knew you gave your life so easily just to make him happy, your plan would backfire, he'd be broken. He can't lose both of us.'**

**_'I think it'll be okay. Father wouldn't do it if it meant one of us would have to die. Just think of how happy it would make papa, to have you back, and it really be you.'_ **

**'He's happy with us being together too. Why put yourself in unnecessary danger?'**

**_'I think it'll be fine. You just worry too much.'_ **

**'With good reason. I've known you all your life. I know how you can be when you set your mind to something.'**

**_'Just trust me, will you, I know what I'm doing.'_ **

He can hear the other sigh deeply. **'Fine, but the first moment I smell trouble, I'm taking over.'**

Sablo decides that the closest he's going to get from the older being as his agreement, and hums to himself, staring up at the open doors of the Throne Room, he takes the first step up, follows with the second, and before he knows it, he's half way up. He pauses once he crests the top, the guards look at him, and he smiles slightly in greeting, he's not sure how this will work, it had just come to him in the spur of the moment, he wanted to give Abe something special for his birthday, and this was what his mind had thought of.

"I was wondering when you'd come." Father sounds amused, and he looks into His rainbow-colored eyes as he enters the Throne Room, He looks down at him from His Throne, smiling down at him fondly. "You've been standing out there for nearly an hour." He rests His hands in His lap and nods down at him. "Go ahead, ask what you came here to ask."

Sablo rubs at the back of his head. "Well, today's Abe's birthday, you know?"

"I do."

He nods. "I want to give him something special. Something he'll love."

"Go on."

The Power Elect takes a deep breath. "And, I want to give him Rahatiel."

He smiles down at him, and nods lightly, rubbing at His chin lightly, stroking His beard. "I was wondering when you'd ask. You and Rahatiel are very rare, even among our kind, when an angel is reborn, they are reborn in the barest sense of the word, there should be no remembrance of their past life." He ponders His next words. "When Ratahiel chose to be reborn, I merged his grace with another's, yours, they're meant to become one, you being him and him being you, but it seems, your graces didn't merge, not in the way they should have. You are you and he is himself, but at the same time, you are both one. You cannot live without him and he cannot live without you. You are connected, where it counts, twins if you will."

He licks his lips cautiously. "So…. So, you can't separate us?"

"I never said I couldn't, I can do anything I please." He hums thoughtfully, stroking His beard again, nodding lightly to whatever was going through His mind. "I could separate you, if you both want that, but there would be a cost, nothing in this universe is free of consequence. You would be two separate people, but still connected, your graces are merged, you would still be one, in a different sense of the word. You would feel what he feels, and vise versa, you cannot live without the other, forbid it come to pass, but if one of you were to die, so would the other, you are two sides of the same coin, separate but connected." He leans forward in His Throne, looking down at the little angel firmly. "The risks would be greater if you two were to separate, and it will have to be a decision made by both of you, does Rahatiel agree to this?"

**'If I agree, I want you to promise to never leave my side, that is the only way I'll agree to this.'**

**_'I promise never to leave your side.'_ **

**'I agree.'**

"He agrees."

"I know." God winks down at him, and stands from His Throne, shrinking in size. He's still taller then him, but not as large now, he's no giant. "I can hear him." He comes to stand before him, and nods, reaching up to touch His fingers to his forehead. "You might feel a bit lightheaded at first, if you need to sit, then sit."

Sablo nods, going cross eyed as he stares at his Father's fingers, watching as they begin to glow, and he was overcome, he felt lightheaded, just as Father had warned he might. It felt like something was being torn away, something was being taken, he felt cold, as if half of him was missing, like he wasn't whole. He must have nearly passed out, because for a moment, everything went fuzzy, and when he opened his eyes he was sitting on the floor.

There was a man sitting next to him, not as old as Abe was, not as young as him, a nice mix, maybe around Saba's age, perhaps just a tad bit younger. Golden brown curls, slightly paled skin, and piercing gold eyes. He knew who it was, instinctively, and he blinks the fuzziness from his vision as Father works on the young man sitting next to him. There something between them, like a line of light, it fades and ripples with different colors, like the barrier did beyond the gates, it connects them together, it glows and fades, like a heartbeat, or a breath of air, he stares at it for a moment.

"My son, how do you feel?" Sablo looks up when he knows he's being addressed. "Are you alright?"

"I..I feel like a part of me is missing…"

"How can I be missing if I'm sitting next to you?"

Their Father smiles, turning His attention to the boy at his side, he turns to look at him, he meets golden eyes, he smiles at him, and he returns the smile in kind. "Raha?"

"Hey, little brother." He holds a hand out to him. "It's nice to finally meet you."

…

They walk across the empty snowy training field together, in silence, it's weird being apart, they're so used to being together, sharing one mind, one body. The snow crunches under their boots, and Rahatiel steps to the side at the foot of the stairs, they both agreed that the younger would go first, and Sablo steps up, a nervousness taking over, what if Abe _didn't_ like their gift.

He crests the top of the stairs first, Rahatiel stops behind him as he draws to a stop, his eyes meet Puriel's from across the room, the medic makes a face, it's an unhappy face, they're upset that he seemingly skipped out on his mentor's birthday.

"Where were you?" The medic calls, and it turns all the eyes in his direction, there's a flicker of hurt in his mentor's eyes, that he missed most of the celebration, he hadn't realized he'd been in the Throne Room for as long as he had until he stepped out and saw that the sun had set. "You missed Abe's birthday dinner."

He squirms under their combined gazes, most of them are hard, the only hurt on is his mentor's, and he feels bad. A hand touches his lower back from behind him, and he nods, stepping forward a step. "I was….I was doing something…"

"What's more important then your _mentor's_ birthday, the one who _elected_ you, the one who gave you a _chance_?" Puriel's not letting this one go. "What's _more_ important than that?"

"Puri," Abraxos's soft voice cuts him off, and they both turn to look at him, he's looking down at the piece of cake that has been set in front of him. "Let it be."

"No! He should have been here! He—"

"He was getting _me_." Eyes turn from the second oldest of the Powers at the sound of his voice, one they hadn't heard since the onslaught of the Great War, and he steps up behind the younger Elect. "We're sorry for being late to the festivities."

They stare at him, Puriel's gone blank, staring with wide eyes, mouth hanging open slightly, and he drops the cake, it lands on the table with a splat, staying in one piece, by some miracle, this entire thing must be amusing Father greatly, there was no other reason for the cake to not be ruined by the fall it took.

Haniel and Titus stare at him, eyes wide and surprised, mouths open as if to say something, but no words managed to come forth.

Nisroc stares at him as though he's seen a ghost. "R—Raha?"

"In the flesh." He smiles, looking down at himself, pressing his hands to his chest. "It feels weird being in my own body."

A chair squeaks as it's pushed back suddenly, and they all turn at the noise, Abraxos ignores them, crossing out from behind the table, jogging the length of the Lounge, and curls around him as tightly as he can. Rahatiel smiles, curling his own arms around his mentor in return, he'd forced back a step, to the edge of the last stair, at the impact from the older angel. "We should move before we fall down the stairs."

The Power backs up, refusing to let go of him, and they shuffle back away from the stairs.

" _How?"_ He finally pulls away, hands curled around his cheeks, his cheeks glisten from tears. " _How_ are you here?" He looks to his other boy, his younger boy, and Sablo smiles slightly. "Last I knew…Last I knew you both were _one_ being…How are you _two_?"

"It was little brother's idea." They turn to look at the younger angel, and Abraxos smiles at him, reaching out to tug him into his embrace too. "He said he wanted to give you something special."

The Power squeezes his youngest Elect. "Thank you, starfish."

**'Call him papa, bet it'll make him cry again.'**

**_'He is already crying, Raha, that's mean.'_ **

**'Do it.'**

"You're welcome, papa." Rahatiel elbows his forever companion in the side lightly when the Power inhales deeply and curls around them again. **'Told you.'**

**_'It's his birthday and you're being mean to him.'_ **

**'He never cries! This is great!'**

**_'You are the biggest jerk I know!'_ **

**'Careful, little brother, Father said we still share one grace, I could take you down in front of everyone.'**

**_'You wouldn't dare!'_ **

**'Wouldn't I?'**

Sablo shrieks suddenly, startling everyone in the room, and jumps back, reaching back towards his shoulders, bouncing lightly on his feet, cackling madly. Rahatiel smiles and turns to look at him knowingly.

Abraxos looks between them both, after gazing at his youngest with concern, and smacks the older in the chest. "Leave your brother alone." The younger angel laughs softly, but nods, and Sablo settles down, glaring at his older brother as he wheezes for a breath. "You're a jerk."

"You dared me."

"Guys…?" The three of them turn to look at the others, seemingly having forgotten they weren't alone, and Sablo smiles slightly, rubbing the back of his head. "Surprise?"

"I don't understand…." Titus taps his lips with a finger. "What does Sab have to do with Raha?"

Abraxos turns back to the two boys, gesturing for them to follow, and makes his way back to his seat. Rahatiel takes the chair next to him and Sablo frowns, noting the lack of seats, and yelps, when the older angel tugs him around and situates him in his lap. He smiles, leaning back against his chest, and Rahatiel curls his arms around his waist, resting his chin on the boy's shoulder. "I can explain."

The others nod.

"When I died, I went to Father and Death, I was given the option of resting with Void or being reborn, and I chose to be reborn. I was reborn in Sablo."

Sablo nods. "When Father combined our graces, they didn't mix in the way they should have, but He didn't realize it until He'd given me to my guardian. We share one core, but Raha is his own person and I am mine; we're connected."

Abraxos smiles at them, this is most certainly the best birthday gift he's even been given, and reaches out to take one of the older boy's hands, he just wants to hold onto him, to know he's real, he's there, he's solid. "Is this temporary?"

"So long as we're both alive it's seemingly permanent, since we share one grace, separated into two forms, if one of us perishes, so does the other." Rahatiel squeezes Sablo with his other arm, Abe's holding onto the one hand, but he makes do. "So, we have to make sure young Sab here doesn't kick the bucket."

"Hey! We have to make sure you don't either!"

"Oh, little brother, I've already done my fair share of dying, I don't plan on doing it again."

"History has a tendency to repeat itself!"

"Boys." They both look over to their mentor, Abraxos is rubbing his forehead, as though he feels a headache coming on, with their bickering, it wouldn't be a surprise. "Neither of you are dying, for the first time, or the second time. Enough talking like that."

"Sorry, papa." Rahatiel has no problem saying it in front of everyone, Sablo mumbles though, he's still too shy, and he huff softly, nudging him with the side of his head. "Sorry, papa."

"It's alright." He smiles at them and squeezes the elder boy's hand. "Let's have some of Puri's delectable cake."

"Cake! Yes! I haven't had cake since before I—" Sablo stomps his heel into his foot and he yelps, cut off midsentence. **_'Raha, don't make papa upset on his birthday. No making death jokes, or puns, or ironies.'_**

**'You're right, I was being insensitive, I'm sorry.'**

"—for as long as I can remember."

**_'Good save, big brother.'_ **

**'Why, thank you, little brother.'**

**_'Are we sleeping in my room tonight?'_ **

**'Um, no, I haven't gotten to cuddle up with papa since I was on my deathbed, I plan on taking full advantage to catch up on lost time.'**

**_'And, I have to join you, right?'_ **

**'Aww, are you shy about cuddling up with papa too?'**

**_'I am not!'_ **

**'Then, ask papa if we can sleep with him tonight.'**

**_'You ask!'_ **

**'Still shy.'**

Both boys turn to look at the second oldest Power in unison. "Papa, can we sleep with you tonight?"

"I wasn't letting you sleep anywhere else."


	131. Morning Routine

He wakes early that morning when the bed shifts, and he blinks his eyes open, squinting in the lamp light, watching the older angel run his fingers through his short blonde hair, stretching as he stands from the bed. He crosses the room and pulls the door of the wardrobe open, reaching in for a clean tunic, he slowly pulls it on, he reaches into one of the shelves, pulling on a pair of trousers, and wraps a leather belt around his waist. Grabbing a pair of socks, he turns, and smiles when their eyes meet.

"Good morning, Raha." He whispers, as to not disturb the sleeping youth resting on top of the elder. "What are you doing up so early?"

Rahatiel shrugs lightly. "Old habits die hard."

Abraxos purses his lips. "No death jokes."

"Sorry, I honestly hadn't intended for that." The younger Power shrugs again. "I guess I'm just used to it."

"That's understandable." He runs his fingers through his curls lightly. "Try and get some more sleep, you don't have to be awake this early, not anymore." He gestures to the sleeping youth resting on top of him. "Besides, it doesn't appear your little brother is going to be waking up for a while."

"Yea, he's not an early riser." Rahatiel looks down at his little brother, sleeping peacefully on top of him, his stuffed starfish pressed under his nose, Sablo had never been a morning person. He never been so open with Abe either, he was still rather shy, and often claimed that the only reason he slept with the elder Power was being Rahatiel did, but they weren't fooled, he fell asleep between them, curled around the older Power's arm, he was shy, and Abe had an abundance of patience. "I'll wake him up in a little bit. We slept until _noon_ yesterday."

Abraxos chuckles softly. "Let him get his sleep. It's rare for him to sleep so much."

"I know," Rahatiel frowns lightly. "He has nightmares sometimes and he never says anything." He pets the younger angel's curls back. "He's too shy to, shy little thing."

"Yes, but he's our shy little thing." The older Power rubs a finger over the youth's cheek. "And we're working on it, he called me _'papa'_ yesterday at breakfast, well, lunch, but all the same."

"I bet you were over the moon."

"It made me happy, I'll admit it."

Rahatiel smiles slightly, petting a hand down the back of his little brother's head, but doesn't look up to see the Power above him. "It made you _'happy',_ sure, I'll believe you were just _'happy'_."

"Watch yourself, Raha, you're pushing a fine line." The Power warns playfully, wagging a finger at the younger angel, though his smiles alleviates any heat behind it. "If he weren't sleeping on you, I'd show you just how _'happy'_ I was."

"I'm shaking in my pajamas, I really am."

Abraxos chuckles softly, pinching his nose lightly. "Have you always been this cheeky, or has time simply made my heart grow fonder?"

"You know you _love_ me."

"I do." The Power admits with hesitation. "With all my heart." He rubs a knuckle under his chin lightly. "Get some more sleep. It's still early."

"I don't think I can. I'll probably just read a book or something until Sablo wakes up."

"Oh, no you won't mister." Abraxos curls his fingers around the older boy's forehead. "You're going to get some sleep." It may be cheating, but he uses a bit of his grace, urging him to sleep gently.

Rahatiel blinks widely, his eyelids drooping, and he frowns softly. "Cheater."

"I'm not a cheater." He smiles, stroking his curls back gently, watching as his eyes slowly close. "I'm resourceful."

The younger Power licks his lips lightly. "Mmmm…..G'night, papa."

"Goodnight, little rabbit."

He watches the youth's eyes flutter closed and smiles, leaning over to turn down the lamp, and turns, making his way to the door. Puriel would be awake by the time those two awoke and he'd make them both some breakfast.

"Hey, Abe." He turns to see who's greeted him, and this early, with that young of a voice. "Good morning, Chayy." He pauses, tilting his head as he gazes back down at the boy. "I thought you said you were sleeping with me last night?"

Chayyliel nods lightly, looking down to his fingers. "I was….But I didn't want to come between you and Raha."

"This phase has not passed yet?" He frowns in concern. "You know Raha would have let you sleep between us."

"I know…I guess." The boy fiddles with his fingers. "I just didn't want to come between your guys. You've had me back longer then you've had him back."

He purses his lips. "That's nonsense and you know it. You'd asked if you could sleep with me last night and I said you could, I wouldn't have given you my confirmation if I hadn't meant it."

"I'm sorry, papa."

"No use being sorry, no harm done, you'll just come sleep with me the next _two_ nights." He smiles down at the youth, ruffling his hair lightly, nudging him towards his room. "It's much too early for you to be up, you go on in and curl up with Raha and Sab, and get some more sleep."

Chayyliel smiles up at him. "Okay, papa." He bounces forward, and he watches him push the door to his room open and bounce in, cracking the door behind him. Shaking his head, the older Power steps forward, down the hall for the kitchen, and makes himself a bowl of warm oats. Training until four today, between noon and four was when it was warmest, and he was counting down the minutes until he could return and cuddle up with his boys, perhaps he'd drag Puri (and subsequently Tus) in with them, their own little family back together again, they all needed some quality time together.

He'd guilt the medic into it, he still felt bad for being so cross with Sablo last week, he'd do anything to make it up to their baby Power.

"What phase is the chameleon going through?"

He turns at the sound of his Captain's voice, smiling to him in greeting, taking a bite of his oats. "He seems to think Raha's taking his place and shies away."

"Raha would never do that."

"We know that, but he doesn't think so, I'd thought it had passed through, but apparently not."

"Ahh." Nisroc chooses an apple for his breakfast. "What are you going to do about this?"

He takes another bite of his oats. "We're going to spend time together, the four of us."

"Four?"

"Raha won't let Sab leave his side. He's a tad on the protective side."

"A tad?"

"Hey, someone needs to give Sab that sort of protection, don't forget, Raha has been with him since the day he was born. He's been through all the good _and_ the bad."

"Touche, I meet your point." Nisroc nods lightly, taking the final bite of his apple, and tosses the core into the waste basket. "What are you going to do with them, your bed isn't big enough to house all of them."

"I thought we'd move to the Lounge, more room that way."

"Makes sense to me."

Abraxos nods, setting his bowl down in the sink and pouring some water inside to let it soak, turning back to look at his older brother, he nods again, gesturing to the stairs down to the training field below. "Shall we?"


	132. Papa's Request

“Sab,” he hums when he hears his papa’s voice call out to him, they’re resting on the older Power’s bed, leaned up against the pillows, he’s situated between the older Power’s legs, his arms wrapped around him, rubbing gentle patterns over the bandages wrapped around his wrist. Rahatiel isn’t with them this time, he’s getting his first examination from the Healer, it’s going to be a while, and he’s holding onto the little Power for when the needle pricks stick into his arms. “Can you do something for papa?”

“Mhmm.”

“Baby starfish, the others are going to come to you to ask for your forgiveness, and I don’t want you to give it to them.”

Sablo turns slightly, to look up at him, and Abraxos smiles down at him, pecking him on the nose lightly. “Why, papa?”

“Because, baby starfish, they really did you wrong, and I want them to earn it.”

“Forgive them for what, papa?” He flinches, and the older Power knows what it is, he reaches up to rub at his upper right arm lightly, the prick of a needle. “What did they do wrong?”

“Oh, my poor little starfish.” Abraxos presses a kiss to his forehead lightly. “They did something very wrong. They turned their backs on you when you needed them most. That was very wrong.”

“But that’s okay, papa. I hurt them badly.” Sablo turns back around and settles back down. “Now that you’re back, they’ll remember me again.”

“They shouldn’t have forgotten you in the first place, baby starfish, you did nothing to deserve it. They did something very wrong. It was my decision to jump in front of you, and mine alone, I’ve lost more then enough, I am not going to lose you too.” The older Power rubs at his belly lightly. “You mean a lot to me, baby starfish, and they hurt you, not only mentally, but physically as well. They neglected you, and neglect is not okay, no matter what circumstance or situation, it’s never okay.” He looks over his shoulder, slowly pulling his top up. “So, I know it’s against your forgiving and kind nature, but I want you to be stubborn and unforgiving, I want you to call Nis _‘Captain’_ and Puri _‘Medic’,_ can you do that for papa?”

“I’d do anything for you, papa.”

“I know you would, papa loves you very much, now, something much better then all that sadness, how about we give your big brother a bit of a hard time.” He dips a finger into the young angel’s belly button. “You both share a few spots.” He wiggles his finger around lightly and the youth giggles brightly, batting at his hand, squirming slightly. “I really love this bond between you two.”


	133. Some Much Needed Love

He lifts his head from his pillow when he hears a soft knock on his bedroom door and calls out softly. “Come in.” The door opens, and his mentor steps in, turning to close the door behind him. “Is something wrong, papa?”

Abraxos turns to look at him, and crosses over to stand at the foot of his bed, placing his hands on his hips lightly. “You tell me, you were supposed to help me today.”

“I was?” He tilts his head slightly, mulling it over, thinking it through carefully. “Oh….I was….Sorry, papa.”

“It’s alright, it wasn’t too busy.” He taps his fingers lightly. “What happened, platypus, it’s not like you to miss out on assisting me with my duties.”

Puriel lets his head drop back against his pillow, pressing his hands to his bare belly, he pushes it in slightly. “He said I was a cow.”

“Someone made fun of my little tickle tummy?”

He giggles softly at the teasing and silly pet name, Abe always knows what to say to make him feel better, even if it’s silly. “He said my tummy was big and blubbery. Big like a cow’s.”

“Nonsense.” He giggles as his mentor leans over, climbing up over the end of his bed, crawling up over his legs, he settles down, reaching out to pull his hands away. “It’s adorable and tickly, the best kind of tummy to have, nothing better.” He sets his hands on the bed, just a bit a way’s out, and presses them down firmly. “Those stay there, or I call Nis, and tell him you need lots of extra love.” He giggles harder at the thought of it, having to go through both of them one right after another, and possibly together, when they gang up on him is the worst, they can be so mean to him, but he loves them with all his heart, just as much as they love him.

He giggles when his mentor pinches the roll over his lower belly together. “Tummy, did that mean bully hurt your feelings?” Abraxos turns, pressing his ear to his belly, and nods, as though he’s being spoken to. “They did, tummy, that’s not good. Do you want me to cheer you up again?” He nods again. “Oh, my little tummy, I’d be happy to.” The older Power pulls away from his belly for a moment, smacks his lips lightly, and bends back down.

The youth squeals when he begins to nibble on the little roll in his fingers, drilling his heels into the bed under him, he curls his fingers into the blanket, he doesn’t want to move them, he loves playing with both of his big brothers, but they’re mean when they get together, it’s a fun kind of mean though, so he doesn’t usually mind. He shakes his head feverishly, kicking his legs, tugging at the blanket, as he nibbles on and on and on. “Aahahahahahahahhaa! Paahahahahhahaapppaahahahahahahahaa! Ieieieieieahahahahahahahaa nohohohoho! Stohohohhohoop!”

His mentor is a big tickle monster, he gets him nearly every day, he says its to make sure he doesn’t forget to smile, even when those big jerks start saying mean things to him. Abe gets Tus too, because he thinks he’s amusing, so small and yet so mighty, there’s a number of individual’s down on the training field who have grown quite fearful of the youngest Elect after he’d heard them saying nasty things to his big brother.

Abraxos pulls away from his belly, letting go of the small belly roll, he rests on his elbows, wiggling his fingers over the top sides of his belly, and the youth shrieks softly, bubbly laughter flowing from him freely. “I can’t stop, platypus, your tummy asked me to help cheer it up, and I would be no better then your bullies if I didn’t do as I was asked.” He circles his fingers around. “I can’t have my tickle tummy feeling bad, that’s just not right, it needs lots of tickles, now more than ever.”

“Ihihihihihit dohohhohoesn’t! Ihihihihiit’s hahahahahaapppyyyyy! Aahahahahhahaha paahahahhahaappaahahahahaha!”

“Not yet, it’s not.” He wiggles his fingers down to his lower belly, and begins poking around lightly, Puriel giggles brightly squirming side to side slightly. “But papa’s going to make it nice and happy again, don’t you worry.”

“Papa! Nohoho!”

“Oh, papa yes.” The older angel wiggles his index fingers on either side of his belly button and the youth shrieks softly, arching his back, kicking his legs lightly. “Papa’s going to give his tickle tummy a lot of love, all the tickles, all of them.” He circles his left index finger around his belly button. “Where’s it going to go?”

The young Elect giggles harder, not so much at the feeling of him circling his finger around over his belly, but more so at what he knows is going to come. “Papa! Nohoho!”


	134. A Small Reprieve

He sighs, staring up at the ceiling, patting his belly lightly as he just lays there. He’s read all the books he can read, it’s gaining closer and closer to his new bedtime, and he wants to make sure he’s not out of bed when that time comes because he doesn’t want another day to be added to his punishment. He hasn’t been truly outside of his room for over a month, he’s almost sure he’s forgotten what the outside world looks like, he hasn’t had a sweet all that time either, he really wanted a sweet, but he didn’t think he deserved one, he’d hurt his baby brother, he’d hurt him badly, he’d been calling him _‘medic’_ when they crossed paths, and it hurt, he wasn’t _‘Puri’_ anymore, he wasn’t family, he was just _‘medic’_ and he missed being _‘big brother’_ more then he missed any kind of sweet.

“Puri?” His breath catches, he knows that voice, that voice hadn’t called him that in _over_ a month. He sits himself up, staring at the sight in his doorway, his little baby brother, the baby starfish, their baby Power, stands there, looking at him with guarded eyes, cautious, as though he’s afraid he’ll turn away from him, and it makes guilt settle in the pit of his belly. Sablo stares at him, holding a plate of cookies in his hands, standing there nervously. “I wanted you to know that I forgive you.”

He inhales sharply, pushing himself forward, climbing off the foot of his bed, rushing forward to meet the younger angel. Sablo squeaks as he curls around him, moving his arms to keep the plate of cookies from tumbling to their feet. “I am so sorry, baby brother, so, _so_ sorry.”

“It’s okay, big brother.”

Puriel shakes his head, reaching up to cradle the back of his head, holding him as close and tight as he can. “It’s not, baby brother, it’s not okay, I was really wrong, really, _really_ wrong. I am so sorry.”

Sablo rests his chin against the medic’s shoulder. “I forgive you, big brother.” He falls silent for a moment. “Papa and I made cookies, he said I could give you some, he said you’d been doing really good and earned a reward.”

The medic smiles lightly. “You can have the cookies, knowing you forgive me is better than any sweet.”

“I want you to have these cookies. I already had seven. Papa says I don’t need anymore.”

“You’ve had _seven_ cookies?” He exclaims softly. “Sab, you’re a little piggy.”

The youth giggles lightly. “They were really yummy.”

“It’s almost time for me to be in bed.”

He shakes his head. “Papa said we can stay up together.”

“I’d love to have your cookies.” Puriel reaches out for the plate of cookies and sets it on the table next to the door. “But there’s another treat I’ve missed just as much as I’ve missed sweets.” He squats slightly and curls his arms under his bottom, lifting him off his feet as he stands, Sablo squeaks as he’s lifted, and buries his fingers in the medic’s curls. “Do you know what it is?”

The youth giggles softly, shaking his head. “No!”

“I’ve missed my belly.”

“Puri, no!”

He turns them around towards his bed, carrying him forward, he knows the layout of his room like he knows the back of his head, he doesn’t need to see where he’s going, he knows he wont run into anything or trip. “Puri _needs_ his belly.”

“No, you don’t! Puri!”

“Yes, he does.” He sings softly, and drops them down onto his bed, Sablo shrieks softly as he bounces, and he secures himself over his legs, making himself comfortable. “Tickly torture time.”

“Puhuhuri! Nohoho!”

He hums softly, pushing the youngest Power’s shift up. “Let me see my belly.” He looks the belly over carefully. “My belly!” He turns, pressing the side of his head to the belly, as though he’s hugging it. “I missed my belly!” He pulls back, leaning in to press kisses over the shaking belly surface, Sablo giggles furiously, trying to cover his belly with his hands.

“Puhuhuhuri!”

That voice is _not_ his baby brother, at least, not the one he has with him. He turns to investigate, and sees his mentor standing in the doorway, holding his _other_ baby brother over his shoulder. The both of them are still giggling softly, and Abraxos smiles at him. “Hello, my little tickle monster.”

“Hi, papa.”

“Let’s say we have a bit of a competition?”

Puriel tilts his head, wiggling a finger in his baby brother’s side, he giggles harder, curving away from him, Rahatiel giggles harder too, squirming over the older Power’s shoulder. “A competition?”

“Yes, a competition, to see who can make them laugh the hardest.”

“That sounds promising,” he smiles cheekily, glad to be back in his papa’s good graces, and wiggles a finger in his baby brother’s other side. “Don’t be upset when you lose.”

“Me? Lose?” Abraxos steps into his room. “I don’t think so, I taught you everything you know. I made you into the little tickle monster you are today.” He comes up beside him, leaning forward to drop his cargo on the bed, Rahatiel giggles up at him as he climbs up over his legs. “Don’t _you_ be upset when _you_ lose. I beat you here and take you as my prize.”

The medic makes a face. “What do I get if I win?” He looks over at his mentor and Abraxos turns to look at him. “This seems a bit unfair.”

“I’ll let you get me without the expected consequences.”

Puriel smiles. “Deal.”

His mentor returns his smile and turns back to look down at his victim, Rahatiel giggles up at him lightly, reaching down to push at his hands as he slowly pushes his tunic up. “You stop struggling or I forgo this entire competition and simply torture you to simply torture you.” His hands fall away, dropping back to his sides, simply sticking to giggling up at him. “A few rules, one really, no berries.” He bumps his shoulder against the medic’s playfully. “Not yet, those can be the prize for the winner.”

Puriel smiles, leaning against the older Power’s shoulder lightly, smiling wider when he feels him shift and lips press lightly to the side of his head, he loves his papa, he loves him very much. “Anything else goes?”

“Anything else goes.”

He pokes a finger into the youngest Power’s belly, and he’s not disappointed when both of them begin to giggle squeaky little giggles, squirming slightly from side to side. “I agree to those terms. Who goes first?”

Abraxos bumps his shoulder lightly again. “Do you want to go first; you’ve been rather on your own for over the last month.”

“I’ll go first, thank you, papa.”

“Any time, little platypus, you should have your fun.”

The medic smiles, pulling the baby Power’s arms out slightly. “These stay here, or I go down and nibble on those toes for an hour.” Sablo giggles at the thought of it, he’d only followed through on that threat once, it had been the most torturous hour of his life, he thought he was going to die, death from laughter, what a way to go. He nods, curling his fingers into the blankets, giggling harder when the older Power leans over to the left, and he curls slightly to the right, looking down to watch him closely. He chuckles softly, wiggling a finger in his other side, and he giggles harder, scooting back over. “You’re not getting away from me, come back here.”

Puriel looks back down to his side, and the youth giggles harder in anticipation, he knows it’s coming, his older brother is such a tease. He leans in close, Sablo giggles harder, Rahatiel bites his lip, and he buries his face in the younger Power’s side, nibbling lightly on the slight roll of fat down around his waist. Sablo squeals brightly and his brother shrieks, both squirming from side to side, the youngest kicks his feet and the older presses his hands to his side, as though to block an invisible attack.

“EEIEIIEIAIAIAAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHO PUHUHUHUHURRIIHIHIHII NOHOHOHOHOO! NOHOHO EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAAHAHHAHAAHAAAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHO NIHIHIHIBBLES!”

“Ieeiieieieieieiiaaiaiaiahahhahahahahhaa nohohohoo! Nohohohot thahahahhaat! Nohhohohohoho fahahahaaair! Nohohohoho fahhahahahahhaaair! Puhuhuhuhurriiii! Plehehehehheeease! Eeeiieieieiieaiiaiaiaiiaaaahahahahahahahhaa!”

Puriel chuckles, and pulls away, turning to look at the older Power, Abraxos smiles at him. “Beat that, papa.”

“Oh, I can beat that easily.” The older Power looks down at his captive victim, Rahatiel giggles harder, begging him not to, with all this going on, he can’t focus enough to close out their bond so he doesn’t feel what his baby brother feels. Abraxos curls his fingers in the waist of his trousers and pulls them down slightly, licks his lips playfully, and buries his face in his lower waist, nibbling on the sensitive skin playfully.

Rahatiel squeals and Sablo shrieks loudly, both shimmying from side to side, Rahatiel curls his fingers tightly in the blankets under him, throwing his head back as he cackles madly.

“EEIEIEIIEAIIAIAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA PAHAHAHAHAPAPAAHAHAHAHAHA! IEIEIEIEIEIEIAIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHA NOHHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEEHEEREEREHEHEHEHHEHE! AHAHAHHAHAAIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA PLEHHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! PLEHEHEHEHEEEASE! NOHOHOOHOT NIHIHIHIHIBBLES NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE! AAHEHHEEIEIEIIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA!”

Sablo squeals with him, drilling his heels into the bed, shaking his head. “EIEIEEIAIIAAIAIAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO PAAHAHAHAHAHAPAPAAHAHAHAHHAHA! NOHOHHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEERRRRREEEHEHEEHHEE! PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! EEEIIEIEIAIAIAAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHHEHEEASE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEERE! EIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! NOHOHOHOHOT MOHOHOHORE NIHIHIHIHIBBLES!”

Abraxos chuckles as he pulls away, turning to look at his other boy, Puriel glowers at him and he chuckles again, leaning over to kiss him on the nose. “I win.”

“That’s just not fair!”

“I’m the big bad tickle monster around here, little baby tickle monster, I know my stuff.” He wiggles a finger in Rahatiel’s belly button, and both brothers squeak, shrieking with laughter. “I know all my little potential victims really well.”

“I shouldn’t have ever taken your challenge!” Puriel drops his face down over Sablo’s belly, and the youngest Power giggles madly, just at the thought of the off chance of him blowing his cruel berries while he’s laying there. “I feel like such a chump.”

“Don’t feel like a chump, baby platypus, Thaddy’s challenged me too, and he loses every time.” He leans over to press a kiss to the medic’s cheek, rubbing his nose over his ear. “I just know what I’m doing all too well.” He tugs at his ear lightly with his teeth and pulls back. “I think this means I get to claim my prize.”

Puriel huffs and looks over at the older Power. “Can we do berries first?”

“Together?”

He nods.

“Sure, platypus.”

Sablo and Rahatiel’s eyes widen when they take simultaneous deep breaths and bury their faces into their bellies, screeching loudly when they blow out at the same time, finally letting go of the blankets to push at their heads, screaming with laughter when they blow another long nasty raspberry. They carry on until they’re breathless, squeals having fallen silently, and then they pulls away for good.

Abraxos hums, petting Sablo’s hair lightly, the young baby Power stretched out between his legs, his head resting on his belly, Rahatiel curled around his left arm, and Puriel curled around his right, munching on his cookies quietly, all of them just content to lay there together. He turns, pressing a kiss to the side of the medic’s head. “I forgive you, baby platypus, you’ve been doing so well, I’m ending your grounding early.”

“Thanks papa.” He swallows his bite of his cookie. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know you are, platypus, all’s forgiven.”

He finishes his last cookie, and turns slightly, setting the plate on his bedside table, and cuddles down around his mentor’s arm. “I love you, papa.”

“I love you too, platypus.”


	135. That Good Old Fashioned Fun

He smiles as the boy giggles, hanging over his shoulder, he meant what he said, its just the two of them, for the next couple of days, all the cuddles and all the tickles, because he knows just how much the boy likes the both of them. He’s grown some, he’s no longer that small spry little thing, but he’s still just as light as he’d been those some odd years ago and he’s only grown a few inches. “Are you ready?”

The boy giggles harder, and he feels fingers curl into the back of his tunic, tugging lightly. “We’ve got so much time to make up for.” He reaches out to push the door to his room open, stepping inside, he turns to close it behind him, smacking the boy’s bottom lightly, after a nice nap, the sting from his reprimanding has faded, and he’s in a much better mood. “I can’t wait to get my fingers on all those really special spots, I remember them all, I never forget.”

“Thahhahahhahaaddyyyyy!”

He kicks his boots off, he’d taken the youth’s off downstairs while he was sleeping, they still sit down on his desk, where he’d set them once he’d removed them, they’ll be up here the next few days, he won’t need them.

“I’m going to start at my favorite little special spot and work my way from there.”

He reaches into his wardrobe for his whip, this is their thing, their special thing, it would always be their special thing, always. He tosses his whip down on the bed and sits on the end, pulling the boy down from his shoulder, he settles him at his side, leaning over his lower back to keep him in place, he feels him try to scoot up, and he curls his arm down under him, to keep him from getting away. “This is my favorite little special spot; it gets the best laughter out of you.” He reaches out for that special little spot, curling a finger in the inner undercurve of his left cheek, and digs in lightly. The boy screeches, lifting himself up, kicking out with his legs, and he feels him tugging himself forward, so he tightens his grip.

“EIEIEIEAIIAAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA THAHAHAHAHHAHAHAADDYYYYYY NOHHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEREEEE! EEIEIIAIAIAIAIAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEASEEEIEIEIIEAIIAAIAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! GEHEHEHEHEHHEHEET IHIHIHIHIHIHIIT OHOHOHOHOHOUT EEIEIIEIEIEIAIIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!”

“This is a really good spot, isn’t it, Zan?”

Thaddeus looks over when he feels the movement, chuckling softly at the boy’s reaction, he’s pounding his fists against the top of the bed, pressing his face into the blankets as he screeches and squeals. “NOHOHOHOHO NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOO NOHOHHOHOHOOHO THAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAADDYYYYYY! EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA EIEIIEIEIAIAIAAAAHAAAAAAAAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHHEHEEEASE! PLEHEHEHEHEHEEIEIEIIEAIIAIAAAHAHAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEEASE!”

The Warden looks back around, digging into his favorite spot, humming contemplatively. “Because I’m nice, I’ll move on, but you have to call me what you used to call me all the time.” The boy pushes himself forward with his feet, trying to move through the older angel’s grip. “What was it, Zan, what did you call me, what was I?”

“EEEEIEIIEIAIAIAIAIAAAAAAAAHHAHHHAHAHAHHAHAHA PAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAPPPAAHAHHAHAHAAAAHAHAHHAHAHA! PAPA! PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHHHAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAPPAAPPPPAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!”

“That’s right, I was your papa, wasn’t I?”

“YEHEHEHEEIEIEIEIIEIEEIEEEAAAAHAHAHAAAAAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHHAASSSSS YEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEEEESSSSS!”

“Am I still your papa?”

“YEHEHEHEHHEHEHHEAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHA YEHEHEHEHEHHESSSS! YEHEHEHEHHEHES PAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHHAHAHAPPPAAAAHAAHHAHAAAHHAAAA!”

“Darn right, I am.” He lets go of his waist and Zander pushes himself forward, flopping around on his back, as though he won’t simply reach under him to get there, but he’s a man of his word, he’ll leave it for now. “I’ve always been your papa.” He turns with him, crawling up his bed, situating himself over his legs. “Even when I gave you to someone else to raise.” The boy giggles up at him, and he passes his whip to hold onto, pushing his arms up above his head. “Do you remember our word, baby bear?”

“Pineapple!”

“Very good!” He leans up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Ready?”

“Do your worst!”


	136. Always A Prisoner

“Oh, Dama, having you in this position brings back so many good memories.” He strokes his fingers up and down his arms lightly, just barely making it into his armpits, and it’s enough to make the young guard feverishly giggle up at him. He stands at his head, leaning over him slightly, stroking his fingers up and down his arms, feather light, barely touching, and it drives the youth crazy. “Does this bring as many good memories back for you as it does for me?” Damabiath shakes his head, he thought he was passed this, he was a guard now, he thought this only happened to prisoners, he was being proven wrong quite fast. “It doesn’t? That comes as a true surprise, seeing as to how hard you’d be laughing.” His hands come to a stop just above his armpits, and he pokes a finger into each armpit. “Remember all the fun we had with these armpits. Oh, I know all too well how sensitive they are, _all_ too well, have they had many tickles since we last saw each other?”

Damabiath bites his lip, giggling harder, with the fingers poking into his armpits, they just lay there, but he knows how torturous the Warden can be. He wiggles his fingers slightly and he squeaks softly, giggling even harder. “Have they, Dama?”

He knows he’s going to regret it, but he shakes his head, and Thaddeus smiles down at him, it’s not a nice smile, well, it is, but it means torture is coming. “Oh, really?” He poises his fingers over his armpits. “We have to remedy that.” Damabiath shakes his head feverishly, tugging at his wrists, even though he knows they’re well and truly secured. “I’m gonna get ya.” He lifts his hands and flutters his fingers lightly just above his armpits. “I’m gonna get ya.”

“Thahahahhaaaddyyy nohohohoho! Pleheheheheheease! Eehhehehehehhehehhehe! Plehehehehheease nohohhohohohoho!” He looks between both hands frantically, eyes wide and alert, watching him wiggle his fingers lightly. “Pleheheheheease! Plehehehehehheease Thahahahahadddyyyy! Pleehehehehheheeease nohohohoho!”

“Oh, yes, it’s coming.” He lowers his hands slowly, wiggling his fingers faster, and his giggling picks up even more. “It’s almost there.” The young guard shakes his head again, curling from side to side, trying to make his escape. “Here is comes.”

“Thaahahahhahahahaaddyyy! Nohhhohohohoho! Plehehehehheeease! Nohohohohoot thahahahhahat! Eeieieieiaiaiaaiaahahahhahaaahahahahahahhahaa nohohohohoho nohohohohot thehehehehehehere! Eieieieieiiaiiaiaiaiaiahaahhaahahahahahhahaha ahahhahahahahaha plehehehehheeease! Eieieiieaiaiaiaaahahahahhahahaha ahahahhahaha Thahahahhahaddyyy!”

“It’s here, it’s arrived.” The Warden flutters his fingers over his armpits lightly, Damabiath shrieks with laughter, shaking his head again, tugging at his arms, twisting them around frantically. “These armpits need some tickles.”

“Thehehehhey dohhohohohohon’t! Eieieieiaaaiaiaiahahahahahhahaha thehehehey dohohohohoon’t! Thahahahahahaddyyy! Ahahahahahahaa eieieiieieiaiaiaiaiaahahahahahahhaha! Thehehehehheey dohhoohohohon’t!”

“I think they do.” Thaddeus leans over to the right, fluttering ten fingers over his right armpit, Damabiath shrieks, waving his elbow wildly, as much as his binds will allow. “And I’m _never_ wrong when it comes to tickles.”

“Yohohohhohohou ahhahhahahahahahare thohohohohough! Yohohohhohohou ahahahhaare! Eieieieiaaiaiaaahahahahahhahaa ahahhaahhahahaahha nohohohohohoho! Nohohohohot theheheheheere! Plehehehheeease!”

He turns to the other side, fluttering ten fingers over his left armpit, and the young guard squeals softly, flexing his fingers under his assault. “A little over here. Just a warm up. Remember the scrub brush?” The youth squeals just at the mention of it, shaking his head feverishly, just the mention of the dreaded scrub brush is enough to drive him wild. Thaddeus smiles at his reaction. “I thought you would.”

As if on cue, the door to the chamber swings open, and one of the Elder guards steps in, carrying a sudsy bucket with him. Thaddeus pulls away from him to take the bucket from him, nods in thanks, and the Elder guard turns to make his leave, leaving the younger to the Warden’s questionable mercy. Thaddeus sets the bucket down in front of his head. “We can’t have any berries until I know these armpits are nice and clean.” He reaches into the bucket, and the youth squeals again, at mere sight alone. “Guess what I had brought for us?” He holds the scrub brush up for him to see. “That’s not it though.” He reaches back in and withdraws a second one. “We have _two_.”

Damabiath looks between them both with wide eyes, one is bad enough, two is just wrong, Thaddy’s a jerk when he wants to be, a real mean jerk. “Nohohohoho! Nohohoot thahahahaat! Nohohohot thahahahahat!”

“Get them nice and soapy.” He dips the two scrub brushes into the sudsy water. “The water’s nice and warm too.”

The guard shakes his head, tugging on his arms and kicking his legs, watching those two dreaded brushes carefully.

“There we go, nice and soapy, all ready, let’s get to scrubbing.” Damabiath shakes his head as he watches Thaddeus turn back to him and hover the dripping brushes over his armpits. “We’ll get you nice and clean.” He squeals with laughter when he starts scrubbing the scrub brushes over his armpits, kicking his legs again, throwing his head back as he cackles bright and loud. “Scrub-a-dub-dub.”

“EIEIEIEEEIEIIEIEIEIAAIAAHAAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOO EIEIEIIEAIIAAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA! NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHHAAT! EIEIEIIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE BRUHUHUHUHUSH! EEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHHAAHAAT THAHAHAHHAADDYYYY PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE! EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAA I CAHAHHAHAHAHAAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHHIIT IEIEIEIEIEIEEIAIAIAIAIAAAAAHHAHAHAAHAHAHHAA! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHHIHIIT EIEIEIIEAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAA EIEIEIAIAHAHHAHAHAHAAAHHAA AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

He tugs, tugs at his arms as much as he can, putting all his strength into it, squealing and cackling with bright laughter, shaking his head feverishly, frantically, something squeezes his hand together, it’s tight, too tight, and then his left arm flies down, his fingers curling around his right armpit, to block the brush.

“Ohoho, oh my god,” Thaddeus laughs, dropping the two scrub brushes in the bucket, and fluidly moves the bucket to the table behind him. “You broke yourself free, that’s a first, how did someone as small as you manage to slip free, those cuffs are wrapped pretty securely.”

The little guard merely giggles breathlessly up at him, his left arm pressed down tightly, fingers curled around his right armpit. “Nohoho mohohohore! Nohoho moohohohore!”

“Oh, you’ve had enough, have you?”

Damabiath nods quickly. “Nohoho mohohohore Thahahaddy! Nohoho mohohore! Pleheheease!”

He smiles down at the young guard. “How about some cuddles then, a nice nap, does that sound better then more tickles?”

The little guard nods. “Yehehess! Behehetter! Cuddles! Nahap!”

“Give me a kiss?” He puckers his lips, leaning over his head, and the guard giggles softly, starting to wind down, and pushes himself up, presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Alright, nap time, it is.” He reaches over to untie the strap from around his right wrist, and curls his fingers under his arms, when he hugs himself tightly, and tugs him up. “Come on, little dandelion.”

Damabiath turns slightly, hoping down from the table, tumbling over into the Warden’s side. “Easy, easy,” he settles him on his feet. “Got your land legs back?” He waits until the guard nods before letting him go, he pulls him back into his side though, as he turns them towards the door, and guides him across the room. “Let’s go take a nap.”


	137. Paid Sick Time

“Alright, you two, open up.” Rogziel and Mendrion does as he tells them and opens their mouths, watching him as he sticks a thermometer under their tongues, and looks to his watch as he waits for the appropriate amount of time to pass, then nods, reaching back out for the two thermometer’s, humming under his breath as he checks the two temperature readings. “Just as I thought. You two should have stayed in bed this morning.”

Rogziel rubs at his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling softly behind a runny nose. “Do you want us to go back, Thaddy?”

“In this rain?” He turns, setting the thermometer’s on his desk. “In this time of year?” He turns back to the two of them and shakes his head. “I don’t think so, mister, you’re going straight upstairs and getting in bed.” Thaddeus waves them around. “Come on, let’s go, move it, misters.” They both turn, stepping forward as he guides them both out of his office, around the corner, and up the stairs. He leans between them to open the door to his room, and pushes them inside gently, closing the door behind him. “Alright you two, get yourselves ready for bed, go on.”

The two young guards nod, and he leaves them for a moment to stoke up the fire, to warm the room up nice and toasty. They both kick off their boots, shucking out of their trousers, and he turns back, gesturing to the bed, and they nod, climbing up on the Warden’s bed, they slide under the blanket’s together.

“Alright, you two get some sleep,” the Warden sits on the edge of the bed, at Rogziel’s side, and rubs both of their cheeks. “I’ll bring some soup up later for supper.”

He makes to stand, but the young guard next to him, curls his fingers around his wrist, Rogziel looks up at him pitifully. “Papa, stay.”

“Little rhino, I got work to do.”

He pouts lightly. “Stay, papa.”

Thaddeus heaves a sigh, and nods in defeat, he can’t deny them anything when they look at him like _that_. “Alright, I’ll stay, you little cuddle bug.” He leans over, untying his boots, and pulls them off, climbing up over him, to settle between the two of them. He raises his right arm slightly. “Come on in, baby rhino.” Rogziel smiles, scooting in close to his side, cuddling down close, pressing his ear to the side of his chest. He turns to the other one, and lifts his left arm slightly. “You too, manta ray, cuddle in close.” Mendrion smiles, scooting in closer, ducking under his arm to rest his head on the side of his chest. “Okay, now, you’re all cuddled in close, now, close those eyes and get some sleep.”

Rogziel nods closer, reaching up to curl his fingers in the front of his tunic. “Love you, papa.” Mendrion follows his example. “Yea, love you, papa.”

“I love you both, too.” He presses a kiss to both of their heads. “Now, go to sleep.”


	138. I'm With You

She scrambles up the stairs, her hands shaking, fingers itching for something, for that release, for the feeling she gets after she does it, she wants it, she wants it so bad. Just a few of them, just a few times, it’s not so bad, it’s her body, she should be able to do what she wants with it.

But she made him a promise. She’d promised him she’d come to him when she had those urges again. She doesn’t want to break her promise, and have him never trust her again, he was like a dad to her, he was so kind, he made talking about stuff fun, not like the other doctors she’s talked to before, he’s different, and she doesn’t want to ruin that.

She runs through the Lounge, passed the kitchen, and down the hall to his room. Throwing the door open, her hands shake as she tugs her top up over her head, throwing it on the floor, she jumps to his wardrobe, ripping the door open, she reaches in for the first tunic she can, tugging it off the hanger quickly, she tugs it over her head, sliding her arms in the sleeves. It’s much too big, she could wear it as a dress if she wanted to, she balls the sleeves up in her fingers and squeezes, her eyes seeking something sharp, something smooth and edged, something that could slice cleaning across her wrist, across her skin, any patch of skin really, it didn’t matter where. Her eyes find one of his daggers, resting in a belt on a hook next to his desk, his sword rests under it. They find the small exacto knife she uses for her art projects, small thin lines, she just needs the feeling, it makes her feel better.

She presses her fists to her ears, bending forward on herself, she wants to scream, to silence the voices telling her to do it, to break her promise, to take one of his daggers, to carve the words that echo in her head in her hazel skin, to write them in the red of her own blood, to carve them in deep so they scar, the voices tell her to do it, screw their promise, she needs it, it’ll make her feel better again, it’ll only be a few minutes, and after that everything will go back to normal again.

Tears gather in her eyes, she doesn’t want to be a liar, she doesn’t want to be two faced, promise him one thing and do the opposite. He’s given her a lot of trust, trust she probably doesn’t deserve, and she doesn’t want to shove it back in his face.

Spinning around, she runs from the room, her fists still pressed firmly to her ears, the voices in her head getting louder, yelling at her, ordering her to turn around, and she pauses, in the middle of the Lounge, and squeezes her eyes shut, mentally yelling at them to _shut up._

_Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

They yell back, spitting words at her, words she knows are true, but he’s been telling her that aren’t. She steps forward, jumping down the stairs two at a time, running down the hall, passed the Archangel’s office, she sees a flash of emerald from the corner of her eye, he’s looked up to see her dart passed, fists pressed firmly to her ears, she hopes he doesn’t come to investigate, she’s only met him a few times, and she doesn’t want him to see her like this, like the broken mess she is.

She stops at the end of the hall, eyes searching through the masses, searching him out. He’d help her, he’d make it better again, he’d know what to do, he’d know how to make the voices be quiet again and how to stop them from convincing her to _do it_. She spots him, standing a ways away, talking to another healer, going through someone’s chart, and she hates to interrupt him, she doesn’t want to be a burden, to be a nuisance, but she doesn’t know what else to do, she’s _this_ close to giving in and listening to those voices, doing what they’re telling her to do, that sweet, sweet release.

She feels so _broken_.

She darts forward, crashing into people as she does, she doesn’t care, she doesn’t stop, she wants them to be _quiet_ , they’re getting louder and it’s starting to become overwhelming, she just wants it to _stop_.

He looks up at the commotion, eyebrows raising, then furrowing, and passes the chart back to the healer at his side, stepping away from them, catching her before she can trip over her own feet in her rush.

She looks up when she feels hands curl around her shoulders, straightening her from her hunched position, and her eyes meet hers, and she just _breaks._ Tears come to her eyes and she jumps forward, burying her face in his chest, hands pressed firmly to her ears, soaking the front of his tunic.

“Jaleel, what’s wrong?” It takes a moment, he’s probably a bit stunned, but his arms curl around her in turn, holding her close, she hears his voice above those shouting in her head, and she looks up at him. “What’s wrong, ‘Leel?”

“Make them stop!”

“Make what stop?” Akriel’s brows furrow and he leans over, closer, so he can hear her better, she’s speaking too softly. “Make what stop, ‘Leel?”

“The _voices_! Make them stop! Make them be quiet! Please, Ak, _please_ make them stop!”

“The voices?” He sounds concerned now. “You’re hearing voices?”

She nods frantically, her eyes wide as they stare up at him. “They’re telling me to do _bad_ stuff, Ak! I don’t want to! Make them stop! Make them _stop_!”

The Mental Specialist nods, guiding her around gently, keeping her pressed to his side as he walks her back down the way she came. He can feel her shaking against him, she’s at her wits end, she’s right on that breaking point, and if they’re not careful, she could spiral, and he wants to avoid that as best as he can. His eyes meet his Archangels, standing at the end of the hall, he’d most likely seen her dart passed his office and come to investigate, Raphael nods once, turning away from them, to appear as though he was doing something, they don’t want the girl to know that too many people know of the demons she faces. He’d come check on things later.

Akriel leads her down the hall, away from the chattering and bustle of the Infirmary floor, and back up the stairs, through the Lounge, passed the kitchen, and down to their room. He turns her inside, and turns slightly over her head to close the door behind them, and guides her to sit on the edge of his bed, squatting down in front of her, he squeezes her knees, holding his hands out for her, and she slowly lowers her fists to press them to his palms, he squeezes her fists tightly. “I want you to listen to me, I know it’s hard, but I want you to focus on my voice, can you do that?”

Jaleel nods slightly, it’s a jerk of the head, and he nods in turn. “What happened, Jaleel?”

“I—I don’t know, Ak!” She’s wavering right on the edge and he can hear it in her voice. “It started off as a good day and then—and then—it just wasn’t anymore! It all—It all became too much! I—I couldn’t take it! The voices—The voices are telling me to do _it_! I don’t want to! I don’t want to do _it,_ Ak! Make them stop! _Make them stop!_ ”

Akriel frowns lightly. “What are they telling you to do, Jaleel?”

“ _It!_ They’re telling me to do _it_! I don’t want to do _it,_ Ak, I don’t want to!”

“What is _‘it’_?” He needs to know what she means, he needs her to elaborate, so he knows the true extent of what is going on. “What are they telling you to _do_?”

She tugs on her hands again, but he holds them tight. “They’re telling me---They’re telling me to _kill myself_! To slit my wrists! To do _it_! Make them stop, Ak, _make them stop!_ ” He can see her slowing tipping over the edge. “Make them stop, make them stop, _make them stop, make them stop, make them stop!_ ”

“I’m going to help you, alright,” he squeezes her hands. “I’m going to make it better.” He stands, keeping his eyes on her carefully, he makes his way over to the cupboard beside his desk, and pulls the door open, reaching inside for something, he reads a few labels, and nods, picking the one he’s looking for out of the bunch, and closes the door. He pours a small glass of water from the pitcher on his desk, and turns back for her, passing her the glass, her hand shakes as she takes it, and he pulls the cap off the small bottle in his hand, shakes out three small white pills, curls them in his fingers as he caps the bottle once more and deposits it in his pocket. “Open up,” she nods, opening her mouth, and he sets them on her tongue, taking the glass from her hands, he holds the edge to her lips. “Take a drink.” She curls her lips over the edge and takes a large gulp, downing the pills in one swallow, he nods, leaving her again to set the glass down on his desk, and returns to her side. “Now, I’m going to numb your mind, it’s going to clear your head, everything’s just going to be _calm_ , and it’s going to make you very sleepy, alright?”

Jaleel nods up at him, and he curls his hands around the sides of her head, Akriel’s used his grace on her before, not for this, but to heal the small cuts she makes when she’s having her bad, _bad_ days, it’s warm and tingly, she knows what it feels like, and she closes her eyes when she feels it, her mind _clears_ , the voices are _gone_ , all she can feel are his hands curled around her head and his warm tingly grace washing over her. She falls forward, completely limp, her minds hazy, foggy, nearly asleep, and he catches her, lifting her up in a cradle hold, and walks around the edge of their bed, setting her on her side, he tucks her in, stroking her forehead lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed, and she smiles up at him faintly.

“T’anks….Ak….”

“You’re welcome.” He caresses her cheek lightly and she leans into the warm touch. “Thank you for coming to me.”

“Wel’om.”

“You’re going to be alright, those pills I gave you, you’ll take them every four hours for the next couple of days, and then once every morning after breakfast, after that, alright?”

“Wh’t……do…..?”

Akriel smiles down at her, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. “They’ll keep the voices quiet.”

“Stay…?”

“I’m not going anywhere, I told you, we’re in this together. I’m not leaving your side. We’ll get through it together.” He smiles down at her, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be here every step of the way.”


	139. A New Home

“You’re gonna love him, Abe, I know you are.” Thaddeus flips through the boy’s file, before passing it over to the prospective guardian, as is his custom, they need to know all there is about the kids they were taking from him. The Power takes the file from him, reading briefly through the incident reports, there’s a good number of them. “I’ll be open with you; he has a bit of an attitude problem.”

“There’s quite a few incident reports, challenging authority, profanity, quite a few violent confrontations, he has a tendency to instigate fights, it just goes on.”

The Warden nods lightly. “Yes, yes there is, he’s got a rough exterior, but he’s mighty soft underneath.” The older angel sets the boy’s file on the edge of his desk. “Might I suggest, doing something I failed to do when he arrived, setting up those boundaries early. Show him what will happen if he breaks those boundaries first and foremost.” He leans forward, sliding the file around, and signs his name on the front page, and slides it back around, leaning forward to set the pen on top of the page. “Once you get those set, he’s a real cutie, a little marshmallow. Mmm, that belly, I’ve had some fun with that belly, give it a good exploration and you’ll see what I mean.” Thaddeus rubs at his beard lightly. “I’ll admit, you’re going to need a bit of patience when it comes to him, Abe.”

The Power nods, leaning forward, taking up the pen to sign his name under the Warden’s. “I have an abundance of patience. I’ll take your suggestion into account.” He sets the pen down and taps the top of the page, sliding it back around, and nods firmly. “I’ll take him.”

Thaddeus smiles at him. “Excellent. You were my first choice.”

There’s a knock on the door, and he looks up, calling out for them to enter. A guard opens the door, and they walk in, he smiles at the youngling standing in front of the guard, holding a small satchel to his chest, he’d known since last night he was being released today.

“Thaddy?”

“Good morning, Hama, please come in.” He nods to the guard, and they back out, closing the door behind him. “Come in, come in, take a seat.” He gestures to the chair next to the Power, and the youngling steps forward cautiously, looking between his friend and the stranger, carefully sitting in the chair he was asked to. “All the paperwork’s been completed, Hama, you’re a free boy.”

“Can I…Can I stay with you, Thaddy?” He scoots forward in his chair. “Please?”

Thaddeus hates these moments, they both grow attached, and he has to hand them off. He rubs at his beard lightly and sighs, looking down to his file, and shakes his head lightly, he hates to ruin the boy’s wishes, there’s always a few who ask if they can stay with him, and he can’t take them all. “Hama, I’m sorry, but you can’t.”

“Please…Please, Thaddy, please, can I stay with you?”

His heart breaks just a bit, it shatters a bit, and he’s quick to move them forward, gesturing to the Power across from him. “This is Abraxos, Hama.”

The boy turns to look at him, Abraxos smiles at him, he smiles like Thaddy does, there’s so much warmth in his smile. “Hello, Hama.”

“Y—You’re a Power.” He stares at the older angel. “The….The _second oldest_ Power.”

“That I am.” He nods lightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Hamaliel stares at him a moment, and turns back to the Warden, scooting to the edge of his seat. “Please, Thaddy, please, I wanna stay with you!”

“Hama—”

“Please, Thaddy, please, I’ll be real good, I swear, please!”

“Hama, you’re going to love being with Abe.” Thaddeus is quick to divert the subject, he’d take the boy, he would, but after taking Zazriel, he really just doesn’t have the room. “He helped raise me, you know, I learned almost all I know from him.”

The youngling stares at him for a moment, then he turns to look at the Power next to him, Abraxos smiles again and nods, and he turns back to the Warden. “He did?”

“He did, he taught me almost everything I know. He’s a tad on the strict side, he has certain rules you have to follow, but I’m the same way. We’re more alike then you think.” He knows he has the boy’s attention, it’s peaked, Hamaliel looks back to the Power for a moment, and Abraxos nods again. “As long as you follow his rules and mind what he says, he’ll be one of your best friends, you’ll love him, Hama, he’s a lot of fun.”

Hamaliel looks back at the Warden, Thaddeus smiles at him and leans forward, resting on his elbows. “He is?”

“Oh, yea, you’ll have a good time with him. He’s always up for playing games. He tells amazing stories. He’s a giant cuddle bug. He makes a _mean_ chocolate cake, always lets you lick the spoon when he does, lets you have the first piece.” Hamaliel’s intrigued, he can tell, and he leans forward even more, curling a hand around his mouth, as though to tell him a secret, but they both know Abraxos can hear him. “And, between you and me, he’s a _big_ tickle monster.”

The Power chuckles next to him, and he leans forward a bit more, nearly leaning against the front of the Warden’s desk, Hamaliel stares at him with curious eyes. “Like you?”

“Oh, he _taught_ me to be the tickle monster I am today.”

The youth licks his lips. “Does he read bedtime stories, too?”

“Oh, he reads you bedtime stories all right.”

Hamaliel turns to look at the Power again, critically, Abraxos smiles at him again, nodding along, resting against his hand, leaning against the side of the chair he’s seated in. He turns back to the Warden in front of him. “Will he tuck me in like you do, Thaddy?”

“He will, he’ll tuck you in nice and snug.” Thaddeus smiles at him. “He wants to be your guardian; do you think you might want to give him a try?”

“I don’t know, Thaddy….” The youth looks down to his lap for a moment. “I really wanna stay with you.”

“I think you’ll find that me and Abe are very much alike. Why don’t you give him a try, stay with him for the week, I’ll come see you in a week, and if you’re unhappy, we’ll make some….” He searches for the right words. “Other arrangements.”

Hamaliel leans forward, curling a hand around his mouth, as though to whisper to the Warden a secret, and Thaddeus leans forward for him so he can. “What if……What if he doesn’t like me……Because I’m big?”

“Oh, Hama,” he’s quick to assure. “I think you’ll find that you’ll fit right in. He doesn’t much care for how you look. He’ll love you with all his heart if he you give him the chance to.”

“But….But I have a big belly…..And he’s a _Power_ ……Would he really want someone….Someone’s who’s fat?”

Thaddeus gives him a stern look. “We’ve talked about that word before, Hamaliel, you are not _‘fat’_.” He leans back in his chair. “If you’re truly concerned about it, why don’t you just ask him yourself?”

Hamaliel licks his lips, nodding, and turns to look at the Power next to him, hugging his small satchel, Abraxos raises his eyebrows curiously, but doesn’t say a word. “You….You want me…..Even though I’m fat?”

“You’re not fat, as you put it, you’re padded. You’re _perfect_. I wouldn’t think less of you because of how you look.” He leans over slightly. “And, between you and me, I happen to _love_ chubby little tummies. Thaddy’s told me of all the fun he’s had with that tummy, I’ll just have to find out how much fun it is on my own, I’m _very_ curious.”

He smiles slightly, curling his arms around his belly lightly, he sounds like Thaddy does. He nods, turning back to the Warden, and smiles slightly. “I’ll give him a chance.”

“Good,” Thaddeus nods, he looks so proud, his eyes beam at him brightly. “I’ll come see you in a week and see how you’re settling in, I expect you to be on your best behavior, like I said, as long as you follow his rules, you’ll get along really well.”

“I’ll be good, Thaddy, I promise.”

“Good, good, very good.” Thaddeus takes his pen, closes his file, and holds it out to the Power as he rises to his feet, he understands a farewell and a dismissal when he hears it. Abraxos takes the boy’s file, curling in against his side, and turns to the boy. Hamaliel rises cautiously, curling his arms around his satchel again, and turns to look up at the tall Power. “You’re free to go. I’ll see you in a week, okay?”

Hamaliel nods, turning towards the Power, Abraxos smiles down at him. “Ready?”

“Yes….Yes sir.”

Abraxos rubs his head lightly and he looks up at him. “You don’t have to call me that. I’m not that formal.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright, nothing to be sorry about.” He turns him around towards the door of the Warden’s office. “Come on, I’ll show you home, it’s coming up on supper time.”

…

“Alright, there are a few things I think we need to go over; I’ve read your file, the number of incident reports you have is staggering.” Abraxos pulls him forward to stand in front of him, as he sits on the edge of the bed, it’s after supper, they’ve all turned in for the night, it’s just the two of them now. “I’ve noticed a trend that I think needs to be addressed.”

“I..I just got here….Am I in trouble…Did I eat too much at supper?”

“No, no,” he’s quick to assure, squeezing his waist lightly. “I want you to eat your fill, there’s no eating too much, if you want seconds, you can have seconds, if you want thirds, you can have thirds, we make more then enough. If you go to bed hungry, that’s you own fault.” The Power shakes his head. “No, I think we need to address a few other things. Your trouble with authority figures, penchant for instigating fights, cursing, the like. I won’t stand for any of it, do you understand me, I won’t stand for it. If I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it, there will be no arguing, no back talking, no _cursing_ , you’ll do as I say when I say. Do you understand?”

Hamaliel nods lightly, he promised Thaddy he’d be on his best behavior, he’d try his hardest.

“Good,” the second oldest Power nods. “Next, I’m not here to be your friend—”

His heart flutters lightly. “But, Thaddy said—”

“I _can_ be you’re friend, and I want to be, I want to be close to you, and order for us to get along, I need you to obey me, I won’t lead you wrong, if I tell you to do something, it’s because it’s for your own good.” He squeezes his waist again. “And I think you should know what will happen if you disobey my rules.”

“You…. You’ll send me back?”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t give up on people, I never have, and I never will. I chose to be your guardian, you’re a part of my family, and I especially don’t give up on my family.” He shakes his head, and Hamaliel looks down as his hands meet in front of him, unbuttoning his trousers, and he tugs them and his undergarments down slightly. “Let me show you.”

“Abe….?”

“Come on, come on over.” His eyes widen as he’s guided down over the Power’s lap, Thaddy had never done this, when he got in trouble, Thaddy took his supper away, he’d take his things until he was alone in his cell, and there he’d stay for the whole day. He stares down at the floor, feeling a sense of impending doom, and stiffens when a large hand presses to his left cheek. “This is what will happen if you disobey me.”

Hamaliel yelps, shrieking softly, when the hand pulls back and smacks down again, harshly, again and again. He kicks his legs, pushing at the Power’s thigh, trying to pull himself free, and his leg moves, he falls forward slightly, and those heavy smacks rain down on his thighs. He cries out, tears coming to his eyes, they make them burn, and he breathes a sob, when it doesn’t stop, the falls just continue to rain down and down and down. It over before he knows it, and his rear burns, his eyes burn, and he’s sobbing into his hands.

Abraxos rights him, setting him on his feet, and pulls his trousers back into place, buttoning them back up. “Did you enjoy that experience?” He breathes a sob, shaking his head feverishly, pressing his fists over his mouth. “I didn’t like it either. Please, don’t give me a reason to do it again, okay?”

The youth nods, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, and the tall Power stands from the edge of the bed, caressing his cheeks lightly, wiping away the tears. “Good, we’ll get along great.” He curls his fingers under his arms. “Hop up.” Hamaliel hops up as he’s told, and the Power bends slightly as he lifts him from his feet. “Sshhh, it’s alright, you’re alright.” He rubs at his back with his large hand, it’s comforting, and he curls his arms around his neck, pressing his face into his shoulder. “As long as you obey me, you’ll never have to feel that again, it’ll be alright, sshhh, it’s alright, little one.”

“I mihiss Thahahaddy!” He sobs into his shoulder, and Abraxos sighs softly, rubbing soothing circles around and around. “I know you do, but you’ll find, it’s not so bad staying with me. We’re quite alike, him and I, it’ll be alright, we’ll have a good time.”

“I wahahant Thahaddy!”

“I know you do, little one, I know.” He sways softly, spinning them in a small circle, rubbing at his back softly. “I know. Just give me a chance, please?”

Hamaliel inhales deeply, his sobs dying down, his bottom still burns, but not as much as it had right after, and he nods. He promised Thaddy he’d give him a chance. “Ohohokay….”

“Thank you, little one, I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

…

“Okay, I’m going to flip it.”

“You’re not gonna catch it!”

“Oh, I’m going to catch it, mister.”

Hamaliel giggles softly, holding the plate of hotcakes in his lap, watching the tall Power, lift the frying pan from the burner, raising a hand slightly, and swing the pan up. They both watch the hot cake fly up, flipping round and round, and the youngling holds his breath, almost wishing for it to miss, just to see the horrified expression on the elder’s face.

Abraxos cheers softly, when it lands face down in the pan, turning to look at him. “I always catch them!”

“You’re magic!”

“I _am_ magic!”

The youth sets the plate down beside him. “Can I try?”

“Sure,” his guardian waves him forward, and he hops down from the counter, crossing around to stand in front of him, he let’s go of the pan handle for him to grab onto, and curls his hand around his. “It’s all in the wrist.” Hamaliel nods, watching as Abe swings their hands up, and the hotcake flies up, turning over and over in the air, and drops back into the pan. “Cool!”

The Power chuckles softly, turning the burner off, and scoops the hotcake up with the spatula. “Do we have everything?”

“I put the butter and syrup on the table!”

“Plates?”

“No!” Hamaliel exclaims. “I forgot the plates!”

“You better get the plates.” He chuckles again, setting the hotcake on the pile, and lifts the plate up over his head as he darts passed him. The youngling reaches up into the cupboard and picks two plates off the top, scurrying back to the table, setting one in Abe’s place and one in his. “Milk or juice?”

“Milk!”

“One tall glass of milk.” He pours him his milk, the boy slides into his seat and looks up at him, waiting for him to serve them, and smiles when he plops three fluffy hotcakes down on his plate. “Go ahead, dig in, tell me how they taste?”

Hamaliel nods, reaching for the butter and syrup, preparing his hotcakes just the way he likes them. Abraxos sits across from him heavily, falling into his chair, and serves himself, watching him as he takes his first bite, smiling as his face lights up. “Good?”

“These are amazing, Abe!”

“You think these are good,” he pours syrup over his hotcakes. “Just you wait until you try my famous chocolate cake.”

…

“Oh, I’ve waited as patiently as I could to test out this little belly for myself.” He’s giggling already, as his guardian lays himself over his legs, curling his fingers in the lower hem of his tunic, pushing it up slowly. “Let me see this belly for myself.” His eyes widen playfully when he pushes his tunic up, looking down at his belly. “Oh, this is even more adorable then Thaddy said it was.”

“It is?”

“Oh, for sure, this is cutest little belly I’ve ever seen.” Hamaliel giggles harder when he starts poking at his belly. “Oh, that’s promising, yes, yes, very promising.”

“Ahahahaabe! Nohoho!”

“Oh, this is great.” He stops his poking, and for a moment, he’s sure his guardian is going to let him go, but he shrieks, as he wiggles his fingers in the sides of his belly. “Beautiful, beautiful, let it out, let me hear that precious laughter.”

“Ahahahahahaabbeeee! Nohohohoho! Aahahahahahahahaa tihihihickles! Aahahahahahhahahaha nohohoot thehehehe beheheheelly!”

“Not the belly?” He wiggles his fingers down to his lower belly, and the boy squeals softly, drilling his heels into his bed. “Why not?” He smiles at the youth, as his eyes shine, and boisterous laughter fills the room. “Is it ‘cause your belly is a wee bit ticklish?”

“Yehehehees! Yehehehes! Aahahahahahhahahaa! Tihihhihihickles! Tihihihihickles! Ahahahahhaabe! Ahahahahahhaha ahahahahahhahahaa eeiieieaiaiiahahahahahahaha! Stohohohohop! Aahahahahaahhahhaa!”

Abraxos chuckles softly, pulling his fingers away, and waits for him to calm down again. “Do you want to see something cool?”

Hamaliel giggles softly, curious, curiosity killed the cat. “What?”

He raises his hand, curling his fingers slightly, forming a claw with his fingers. “You know what this is?”

“No?”

“I call this _‘the claw’_.” He looks down at his hand, turning it around to examine, and raises his other hand, forming another claw. “It has a brother, see, they’re twins.” He looks back at him and Hamaliel smiles, shaking his head slightly. “Do you know what the claw brothers like to do?”

The youth shakes his head again. “No.”

He smiles at him, his hands shooting down to his belly, clawing in viciously, and he squeals, arching his back. “They like to tickle little chubby tummies.” Hamaliel squeals with laughter, batting and pushing at his hands, but they claw in, the dig in, wiggling and vibrating around, and he bounces from side to side. “Aren’t you happy I introduced you to the claw brothers?”

“EIEIIEAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHHAABE! AHAHAHAHHAHAHAABE! NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAAT! THAHAHAHAT’S BAHAHAHHAAD! EIEIEEIIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHHAA THAHAHAHAT TIHIHIHICKLES! THAHAHAHAT TIHIHIHICKLES RHEHEHEHEAAALLY BAHAHAHHAAD! NOHHOHHHOHOHOHHOT THEHEHHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAW! EIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAW! AHAHAHAHHAAABBE! PLEHEHEHEHEEASE!”

“Aw, the claw brothers like you. They love this little chubby tummy.” He pulls his hands back. “Let’s see, how about this, does this tickle too?” His eyes widen when he takes a deep breath, burying his face in his belly, and he squeals, bright and loud, when he blows a monstrous raspberry into his belly.

“EEEIIEIEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! AEEIEIEIEIAIIAIAIAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHHAABE AHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAABE! EEEIEIIAIAIAIIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHHOHOOHO NOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOSE! EIEIEIIEAIAIIAAIAIAHAHAHAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOOT BEHEHEHEHEERRIEEEEESSSSSS! EIEIEIAIAIAAIAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHHAAABE! ABE!”

“Oh, that’s lovely.” Abraxos pulls away from his belly, smiling down at him as he giggles breathlessly, waiting for him to catch his breath. “Now, Thaddy told me about this spot, this special spot, this really special, special spot. He said it was right about,” he reaches back, down between his legs, and Hamaliel just _knows_. He knows that Thaddy is the biggest _traitor_. “Here.” He screeches loudly, when he digs a finger in the inner undercurve of his left cheek, arching his back, pounding his fists on the mattress under him as he clenches up and throws his head back, before falling limp, collapsing back down. Abraxos chuckles lightly. “My, my, this is a special spot. I’ll have to remember this for later.”

Hamaliel shakes his head, kicking his legs, reaching out to try and push the Power’s arm away. “Do you want me to stop?” His boy nods, oh, how he nods. “Give me a hug?” The boy pushes himself forward, throwing his arms around his neck, and he laughs softly, curling his arms around him as he turns them over, laying him over his chest. “That was fun.”

“Mehehean! Sohoho mean!”

“I stopped didn’t I?”

Hamaliel giggles softly, patting the Power’s chest lightly with his left hand. “You’re a tickle monster like Thaddy.”

“Who did you think Thaddy learned to be a tickle monster from?”

…

“Are you making your famous chocolate cake?”

Hamaliel looks up at the new voice, so far, it’s only been him and Abe, sure, there were others there, but they typically left them alone, he assumed it was to let him get settled in peacefully. He freezes, chocolate cake batter covered spoon halfway to his mouth, when _he_ comes around the corner. The medic, Puriel, he said his name was at their introduction, it had been short and brief, and he’d hidden behind Abe’s arm the whole time.

“Oh, hi, Hama.” Puriel smiles at him, leaning over to dip his fingers in the bowl he’s slowly cleaning of remaining batter, and yelps when his hand is smacked away. “Aaaabe!”

Abraxos wags a finger at him, his other hand on his hip. “Only my helpers get to clean the bowl.”

“But! But!” He flounders, crossing his arms. “I didn’t even know you were making your chocolate cake, or I would have helped!”

“I know you would have, my little platypus,” the older Power coos playfully, squishing his cheeks together, he pulls him in closer, pressing a firm kiss to his forehead. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. I wanted to bake this cake with Hama.”

“Aww, papa!”

Hamaliel feels slightly out of place, and he looks down at the batter covered spoon, he feels as though he should give it to Puriel, he’s clearly Abe’s helper. He calls him _‘papa’,_ they’re an actual family, he’s just someone who was given to him on the side. He’s just here until he’s old enough to pick his flock, or whenever they deem it alright enough that he doesn’t need a guardian.

“Oh, don’t look so down, my little hummingbird.” He looks up with wide eyes, fingers pressing under his chin, and Abraxos smiles at him. “That’s right, you’re my little hummingbird, my little chocolate covered hummingbird. Just because I’ve known Puri longer doesn’t mean I love him any more then I do you, nor you any less then I do him, I love you just as much.”

“M—Mean it?”

“I mean it.” He taps the bowl with a ringed finger. “Now, you finish cleaning up that bowl.”

Hamaliel smiles, licking the chocolate covered spoon, nodding happily, and looks over to the medic when his guardian turns back to doing the dishes. “You look like me!”

He tilts his head, smiling slightly. “I do?”

“Yea!” He points the spoon at him. “You have a belly like mine!”

“Ooh,” Puriel nods, patting his belly. “And, proud of it.”

“You mean,” he pauses to take a lick. “You’re not….You’re not ashamed of it?”

“Oh, heaven’s no, I love my belly.” He leans back against the counter, Hamaliel’s foot rubs against his though, and pats his belly again. “It’s like a pillow, I’m the best one to take naps on, if you ever want to try it out, you just come find me.”

Abe turns swiftly, reaching out to poke him in the belly, and Puriel squeaks, jumping in place. “It’s also the best belly for tickles.”

“You say that about every chubby belly.”

“Only because it’s true.” He turns back to the dishes.

Puriel smiles at the back of his head, turning to look to the youngling next to him. “So you’re papa’s kid, huh?”

Hamaliel scoops out another spoonful and takes a big lick. “He’s my guardian, but this weeks a trial week, Thaddy said he’d come at the end of the week to see how it’s going.”

“Well, if papa’s your guardian, then that means you’re a part of our family, and if that’s the case, then that makes me one of your big brothers.”

He takes a lick, tilting his head questioningly. “Big brothers?”

“Yep, four big brothers, I’m the oldest, then there’s Rahatiel, and Sablo, then Chayyliel. You’re the baby of the family.”

Abraxos takes the bowl and spoon once he licks up the last drop of batter, holds his chin lightly as he wipes his face clean from the chocolate batter, and lifts him off the counter, setting him on his feet. “Puri, why don’t you got introduce him to everyone while the cake bakes.”

“Sure, come on, squirt, they’ve been absolutely _dying_ to meet you.”

…

Thaddeus smiles across from them on his couch, watching his young released prisoner squirm and giggle, as the Power poked him in the sides. “So, how was your week, marshmallow?” Abraxos is kind enough to stop tormenting him so he can answer, curling his arms around his waist, allowing the boy to settle down in his lap, leaning back against his chest. “Having any doubts?”

“Abe is the best, Thaddy!” They both smile at the boy’s exclamation. “He’s so nice! He lets me stay up late, as long as I’m not grumpy in the morning, or at least, he says I’m allowed to, but he cuddles up with me when he’s ready for bed and he’s super warm and it makes me fall asleep anyway! He reads me stories at night and tucks me in, just like you did, and he’s the _biggest_ tickle monster!”

He chuckles softly. “I told you he was, didn’t I?”

Hamaliel nods happily. “He makes me hotcakes, and I love hotcakes, and he makes the _best_ chocolate cake, he lets me lick the spoon and clean the bowl, and it’s so yummy!”

“It sounds like you’ve been having a good time, I’m glad, I’d hoped you would.” The Warden leans back slightly. “Do you want to stay here with Abe, or do you want to come back with me?”

The youth curls his fingers around the Power’s wrists, leaning back against him more completely. “I want to stay with Abe, he’s the best!”

Thaddeus smiles, tapping his knee lightly with a few fingers. “And, I know you were fearful, what does the mighty Power say about your little belly?”

Abraxos chuckles softly, wiggling the fingers of his right hand over the boy’s belly, Hamaliel shrieks softly, squirming around in his lap. “Yes, little hummingbird, just what does the mighty Power say about this little tummy?”

“It’s peheheherfect! Peheheherfect ahahahand tihihhihickly!”

“And tell us, just what _is_ this tummy?”

He shrieks once more when those finger claw into his belly just a bit more viciously. “Pahahahhaappaahahaha’s tihihihickle tuhuhummy! Pahahahappahahaha’s tihihihickle tuhuhuhummy! Pahahahappaahahahaha nohohoho! Nohohot thehehe clahahahaw! Nohohot thehehe clahahahaw!”

“Oh, alright,” he leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to the side of the boy’s head. “Not right now, but the claw may make a reappearance later today.”

Hamaliel giggle at the thought of it, curling his arms around his belly, and the Warden smiles at the pair of them. “Papa? That’s mighty progress in a single week.”

“What can I say?” The Power smiles at him from behind the boy sitting in his lap. “I have the magic touch when it comes to you young ones. I seem to remember a certain someone calling me _‘papa’_ too. I don’t hear it much too often anymore, why is that?” He tilts his head slightly, resting his chin on the boy’s shoulder, teasing the older angel, older then the boy, but so much younger then him. “I seem to remember a certain someone calling me _and_ his guardian _‘papa’,_ why’d that stop, hmm?”

He chuckles softly, and Hamaliel giggles quietly, when the Warden blushes a deep red and looks down to his hands, to hide a smile. Hamaliel hadn’t been sure who Abe had been talking about, he’s known a lot of people in his day, but seeing his greatest friends reaction, he knows, for sure, who Abe is talking about.

“Aaabe.” The Warden whines softly, smiling down at his hands, curling his fingers together. “Stooop.”

“What happened to that, you little Tasmanian Devil, why’d it stop?”

Thaddeus smiles again, shaking his head, refusing to look up at him, Abe has him wrapped around his finger and he knows it too. He’s such a tease, Abe had always teased him, he always did his best to make him blush and giggle, not this time, he’s not giggling in front of his little marshmallow, he’s got a certain reputation to uphold. “You haven’t called me that in ages.” He rubs at his cheek lightly. “I was too old to call you _‘papa’_ anymore.”

“Well, that stopped, when _‘papa’_ stopped.”

Thaddeus glances up at him, something in his expression looks sadder, and Hamaliel feels sad for him. “I’m not…I’m not your little Tasmanian Devil anymore?”

Abraxos smiles at him lightly. “Oh, you’ll always be my little Tasmanian Devil, just as you’ll always bee the others little frog.” He makes a face, it’s a kind face, the kind of face that means he’s just teasing. “What’s wrong, though, I thought you were _‘too old’_ for that.”

“I just…” He rubs at his head lightly, looking back down to his lap, he feels as though the tables have turned on him, where as he was the one doing the teasing, now he’s the one being teased. “I just miss being called that, your little Tasmanian Devil, I liked it.”

“I liked it when you called me _‘papa’_.” The Power squeezes the boy in his lap comfortingly, pressing another kiss to the side of his head, he leans forward slightly, adjusting his position, and he leans back again, against the back of the couch. “It made me feel loved.”

Thaddeus nods lightly, peeking up at him. “Will you…Will you call me your little Tasmanian Devil again?”

“Will you call me _‘papa’_ again?”

The Warden blushes again. “I….I don’t know, Abe.”

“How about I _entice_ you?” He pats Hamaliel on the belly lightly. “I could send Hama back to play with his older brothers, drag you back to my room, _my_ chamber, pin you down, and have a good go at that one little _really special_ spot, how about I _entice_ you?”

Thaddeus smiles, looking back down to his lap, giggling softly, despite his best efforts to swallow them back. “Aaaabe, stoooop.”

“All it takes is one finger, just one, I’ll wiggle it in that one _really special_ spot, until I’ve got you absolutely _screaming_ with laughter, calling me _‘papa’_ again, _begging_ me to stop, and maybe I will or maybe I won’t, it just depends on what kind of mood I’m in.”

He giggles harder at the threat, and Abraxos smiles, patting Hamaliel on the belly again. “Hummingbird, why don’t you go see what Sab and Raha are doing?”

The youth giggles softly, clamoring off his lap. “Okay, papa.”

Thaddeus’s eyes widen, and he stands quickly, ready to make his leave at that moment, but he’s caught, the Power stands, standing at least a good head and a half taller then him, blocking his path. “Not so fast, you little Tasmanian Devil, we’ve got business to attend to.”

“N—Now, now,” he holds his hands up defensively. “A—Ab—Papa—Papa, let’s talk about this…”

“I think we’ve already talked about it, come here, you.” The older angel’s hand shoots out, catching him by the wrist, and tugs him forward, it’s so sudden that he stumbles forward, the Power leans over slightly, and tugs him up over his shoulder. “Now, now I think it’s the time for us to get to our _very_ important business.”


	140. A Long Time Coming

“I have to say, this has been a long time coming, alligator.” He enters through the door, and pushes it closed behind him, walking over to stand at his side at the table, leaning against the side, smiling down at him. “You’ve been a rather sarcastic little shit lately, alligator, your snark only gets you into trouble, don’t you remember the last time?”

Abner sticks his tongue out at him. “I’m an _angel_.”

“In title only, I assure you, you’re a little alligator, very snappy.” He looks him over carefully, from head to toe, he’s in prime position, topless and barefoot, he has so much to work with. “What am I going to do with you, little alligator?”

“You’re going to be a jerk.”

“I’m _never_ a jerk.” Thaddeus looks back up at him, meeting his eyes, Abner smiles, he can’t help it, you can’t help but smile when you’re stuck at the tickle monster Warden’s mercy. “Should I start here, at your little neck?” He reaches back for his feather, flicking his feather lightly under his ear, Abner giggles hard, shaking his head from side to side. “Or these adorably ticklish little armpits?” He moves his feather down to flick over his armpit, the prisoner giggles brightly, leaning away from him as much as he can, he doesn’t get very far, Thaddy’s a jerk though, and goes between both armpits, flicking his feather over one, and when he leans away, over the other, and back again, back and forth, side to side. “Is this belly feeling very lucky today?” He dips the tip of his feather into his belly button and twirls it between his thumb and index finger, Abner squeaks and shrieks softly, sucking his belly in. “Or these little toes, I have it on good authority that these toes are a good spot.” He threads his feather between his fourth and baby toe, rubbing it back and forth, and his little alligator squeals softly, his toes are just as sensitive as his grasshoppers, and his toes curl up tightly.

He chuckles, shaking his head, reaching out with his other hand. “No, no, don’t curl up on me, these toes could use a bit of a dusting.” He curls his fingers around his big toe, pulling it back, and naturally his other toes fan out with it. “There we go.” He threads his feather back between his fourth and baby toe and brushes it back and forth once more, the younger angel squeals softly, twisting his foot around, trying to tug his foot free, but the Warden’s grip is secure, and he moves on to flicking his feather between his big and second toe. Abner squeals again, throwing his head back, kicking his other foot wildly, the cuff around his ankle rattles as he does. “Always with the _sarcasm_ , with the _snark_ , I don’t mind it, I really don’t, keeps life interesting, it’s nice to having someone to bicker with every now and then, but sometimes, _sometimes,_ you can get on my nerves just a bit.” He reaches up, sticking his feather behind his ear, and leans over, Abner’s eyes widen, and he squeals again at the mere prospect of it, at the mere thought of what’s about to come. “Let me see this baby toe.”

“EEIEIEIIEAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOO! TAHAHAHAHHAHAHADDYYYY! NOHHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAAT! EEIEIEIEAAIAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHHAHAAAAA PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHHAAAAT! EIEIEIEAIIAAIIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOOT NIHIHIHIIIBBBLESS! AHAHAHAHAHAHEEAEEIEEIIEIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA NOOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE BAAHAHAHHAHAABY TOHOHOHOHOE! EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! TAHAHAHAHHAADDYY!”

He pulls away from his left foot and turns to his right. “Let me see this baby toe over here.”

“Tahahahaddyyyy! Pleehehehehehehease! Nohohohooo! Plehehheheheheease!” The Warden leans over, curling his fingers around the top of his foot, and his eyes widen. “EEIEIIEAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO NOHHOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHAHAGAIN! PLEHEHEHEHHEASE! EIEIEIAIAIAAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEERE! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE BABABABABY TOHOHOHOHOE! EIEIEIAIIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA GEHEEHHHEHEEHHEET OHOHOHOHOOFFF! PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE! EEIEIAIIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA MEHEHEHEHERCY! MEHEHEHEERCY TAHAHAHAHAADDYYY!”

“Mercy?” He pulls away from his toes, letting go of his foot, as he steps around the side of the table. “What would _you_ know about _mercy_?” Thaddeus reaches back for his feather. “How many times have I asked you for some _silence_? Just a little bit. Just a day without your sarcasm. Just one.” He twirls the tip of his feather in the younger angel’s belly button, and his little alligator shrieks with laughter, sucking in his belly, no easy task with his bubbly laughter. “Too many times, that’s how many times, I should only have to ask once, just _once_.”

“Tahahahahaddy! Stohohop! Stohohohop! Gehehet ihihihit ohhohohohout! Nohohot thehehe feheheheather! Gehehehet ihihihit ohohohout! Geheheet ihihit ohhohohohout! Eehehehehehhehhehe! Eheheheheheeaaahahahahahhahaha! I cahahahan’t tahahahahake ihihihit! I cahahahan’t tahahahahake ihihihit!”

“That’s because you’re just so darn ticklish.” Thaddeus intones lightly, circling his feather around his belly, it shakes with giggles and bubbly laughter, and then he dips it back in his belly button and twirls it around a bit more. “I could just stand here and twirl this feather in your little belly button for an hour and it would absolutely destroy you.”

“Plehehehease nohohhohoho! I’ll stohohhoohop! I’ll stohohohohohop! I’ll behehehe quhuhhuhuiet thehehehehe whohohohole wehehehheek! Eehehehehehehehee ehehehehehehhehe! Pleheheheheease nohohohoho! Pleheheheease Tahahahhaaddyyy! Nohohohot ahahahan hohohohour!” He shakes his head feverishly, still trying to suck in his belly, but he’s laughing too hard. “Plehehehheease Tahahahahaddy! I’ll behehehe gohohohohhooohood! I’ll beehehehehehe gohohhohoood! I cahahahaahahan’t taahahahhahahake ihihihihit! Gehehehehet ihihihit ohohohhout! Gehehehehhet ihihihit ohhohohout! Eehehehheheheehehe I cahahahahaan’t tahahahhahaake ihihihihihit! Plehehehheease! Tahahahahhaddy! Plehehehehease!”

He hums. “All I want is a measly day without any sarcasm. Not an _ounce_.”

“Ohohohookaahahahahaay! Ohohohohookkaahahahhhay! Plehehehheeease Tahahahhaddy! Eeehehehehhehehe ehehehehehhehee! I cahahahahahan’t tahahahhaake ihihihihit! Ohohhohohokahaahhahay! I cahahahahan dohohoho thahhahahhahat!”

Thaddeus meets his eyes. “You swear?”

He nods frantically, kicking his legs, drilling his heels into the table. “I sweehehehhehheeear! I swehehehear! Eeheheheheheheehee! Pleehehehheheease Tahahahahaaddy! I swehehehhear!”

“I’ll take you at your word.” He pulls his feather away, and he giggles breathlessly, dropping his head back, scrunching his eyes closed. “But you give me even an _ounce_ of sarcasm and I have you right back here. Twirling my feather in your little belly button for an _hour_. Are we in agreement?”

“Yehehees! Yehehes! Agree! Agrehehehee! Nohoho mohohore! Noho more!”

“Alright, we have a deal.” He whistles softly as he crosses up to his head, unstrapping his wrists, and then to his feet, unstrapping his ankles, he tugs the breathless giggly angel down by the ankles. “Come here, you giggly little alligator.” Abner sits up, struggling to get his giggles under control, and reaches up, Thaddeus chuckles softly and scoops him up, an arm under his knees and around his shoulders. “Do you know what time it is now?”

“Nahap time?”

“That’s right, little alligator, it’s nap time.”


	141. The First Of Many Pox

“Azbogah, not so fast, come back here, for a moment.” The guard’s shoulders tense for a moment, and he slinks back around, to face his Warden, hands planted on his hips, eyebrow raised, and he smiles at him sheepishly. “Come over here, Az, I can’t see you all the way over there.”

He shuffles closer, and the older angel hums, as he draws closer and closer, coming into eyesight. Fingers curl around his chin lightly, turning his head one way, then the other, eyes looking him over critically. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.”

“Mhmm, I’ve known you long enough to learn your signs, you’re lying to me.” Thaddeus straightens his head again, their eyes meeting. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

“You, of all people, know what I do to liars.” He tilts his head slightly, he doesn’t think he means it, but sometimes Thaddeus can be sort of intimidating. “I’ll be kind though, because I already know the answer to my question, but I want to hear you say it, so I’ll ask again, how are you feeling?”

Azbogah stares up at him and lets go of a big breath. “Well, I mean, I guess I don’t feel so good.”

“You _guess_ , huh?” Now he sounds amused. “I’d say from the looks of things, you’re about three days in, feeling a bit itchy?”

As though by some unseen force, he does feel itchy, he’s felt itchy all day, since Monday, he’d been able to ignore it, for the most part, only with a bit of scratching here and there, but since he said it, since he verbally mentioned it, he _does_ feel itchy. He reaches around to scratch at his belly. “I feel a _little_ itchy.”

“A _little_ itchy, huh, just a _little_?” He yelps when the older angel smacks his hand away. “Don’t scratch.”

“But it itches!”

“I thought you said it was only a _little_ itchy?”

He can’t help it, he whines softly, leaning forward. “It itches a _lot.”_

“I thought so.” Thaddeus lifts his hand, letting go of his chin, nodding down to the back of his hand, and he looks, spotting the little red spots on his otherwise blemish free skin. “You see these, right here, you see those little red spots?” He nods lightly. “Those are pox, you’ve got the chickenpox, highly contagious, especially in the first week, this is why I’m always telling you all, if you feel sick, to stay in bed until you feel better.”

“Should I go back?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You’ll stay here, I’ll have someone alert Tus on the situation, I’ve already had the chickenpox, I won’t get them again, and there’s no telling how many others could come down with it if I were to send you back, all those you’ll pass on your way.” He lets go of his hand, guiding him around by the shoulder. “Come on, we’ll get you taken care of, I know just the thing for itchy pox.” Azbogah nods, leaning into his side, as they walk down the hall towards the stairs. “Where have you been this week?”

“I was in the minors block.”

“Very good,” the Warden brings them to a pause, turning to the guard standing there, and they look up at the knowledge they are being addressed. “The minors block is to be placed under quarantine, the only ones allowed to care for them are ones who have already had the pox, those who have been exposed and have not had them will take the empty cells. Monitor them closely, I want to be informed on everything, understand?” The guard nods, darting off to do as he had ordered, and Thaddeus guides him forward once more, rubbing his back soothingly. “We’ll get you into a nice warm oatmeal bath and you can soak for a while, that’ll help with the itchiness.”

“It will?”

Thaddeus smiles down at him. “It sure will.”

He smiles, taking the first stair up when the older angel pats his back and gestures for him to do so, and he hears him step up behind him. He guides him around into his room, over to sit on the edge of his bed, Azbogah looks up at him. “You rest here for a few minutes while I go grab the tub.” He nods, and the Warden pats his cheek, he watches him turn away, disappearing around the edge of the doorframe. He’s gone for only a few minutes, and returns with a large tub in his arms, he watches him set it in the middle of the room, then as he returns to close the door, as he fills a few buckets full of warm water and pours them into the tub, he stirs in a good amount of oats, and turns back to him. “Alright, you little armadillo, strip on down and climb in, soak for a while, you’ll notice the itchiness start to fade.”

“Okay, Thaddy.” Azbogah rises from the side of the bed and begins stripping, pulling his vest off, then his tunic, reaching down to untie his boots and kick them off, pulling his socks off, shimmying out of his trousers.

Thaddeus smiles at him, eyeing the litter of pox painted on his skin. “Good boy, now climb in, you’ll feel better, I promise.”

The guard smiles, he sure hopes so, he’s _really_ itchy. He leans over, curling his fingers around the edge of the tub, and climbs in, settling himself down in the thick oaty warm water, he sighs, lowering himself completely, resting his head back against the edge, it’s so soothing, the warmth, it’s like it cancels out the itchiness, nulls and voids it, it’s such a relief.

Fingers scratch through his curls. “Told you it would help.” He looks up, Thaddeus smiles down at him, scratching lightly at his head. “You soak here, and I’ll go get you a ham and cheese sandwich for supper.”

“Okay, Thaddy.”

“Do you want the bread toasted?”

“Yes, please.”

“Mayonnaise and mustard?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright,” he scratches firmly for a moment. “I’ll go get your supper, you just relax here and soak.”

“Thanks, Thaddy.”

“Anytime, armadillo,” he scratches head one last time and his hand pulls away, he misses it, Thaddeus chuckles, did he audibly whine? “You did, armadillo, I’ll scratch your head when I get back.”

Azbogah smiles up at him. “You’re the best, Thaddy.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, armadillo.”


	142. The Art Of Avoidance

He catches him at just the right moment, just as he turns into the doorway of his room, as he walks passed, and he catches him by the arm. “Chayy, can I talk to you?”

The young Returned Elect turns to look up at him, caught unawares, his eyes are wide, but he nods. “Sure, Abe.” He steps aside, pulling the boy forward, tugging his arm gently, gesturing for him to come in. “Am I in trouble?” He wrings his fingers together as he turns to look up at him, standing in the middle of the older Power’s room. “I don’t remember doing anything, but I can’t ever be sure.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head, closing the door behind him, and he turns to face him, resting his hands on his hips lightly, looking down at him carefully. “You’ve been avoiding me, Chayyliel.”

He stares up at him for a moment, then averts his gaze to his fingers. “I have not.”

“You have _too_.” He steps closer and the boy takes a step back. “I come into the room and you find a reason to leave. My seats next to yours at the table, you’ve asked to eat in your room for the last week, you don’t ask for me to spend time with you, you never come cuddle up with me for naps.” He takes another step forward. “You’re _avoiding_ me.”

Chayyliel opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and closes it again. He’s struggling to find the right words.

“What I want to know, is why?”

“Because you don’t need me anymore!” The youth looks up at him with wide eyes, curling a hand around his mouth, swallowing thickly.

Abraxos’ eyebrows meet in concern and he leans in closer, as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard him right, and shakes his head slightly in mystification. “What?”

“You don’t need me, Abe!” He throws his hands out, then curls his arms around himself, turning away from the Power. “You have Sab and Raha, who managed to do what you chose for them to do, you have Puri, who was the first to succeed, you have Hama now, your real boy.” He turns his back to him. “I’m just the baggage, the one who can’t do anything, useless, the broken toy that should be thrown away.”

“Chayyliel, where is this coming from?” He’s forced around, fingers curled around his upper arm. “Did someone say something?”

“They didn’t have to!” He yanks his arm free. “It’s just how it is!”

“It most certainly is _not_.” He’s tugged back around, this time the grip is too firm to break free from, and his head is lifted up. “You’re not _useless_ , yes, as unfortunate as it is, you can’t become a Power anymore, but, _but_ ,” he lifts his head back up when he tries to look away. “That doesn’t make you useless. If you want something to do, I’ll take to Tus, you rather loved being a guard, I’m sure Thaddy would be glad to take you back.”

He stares up at him. “Really?”

“Really, we’ll work something out.” The Power smiles down at him. “And, you’re just as much one of my boys as the rest of them are, you don’t have to be able to fulfill some expectation to be a part of my family, I love you regardless.”

He blinks. “You do?”

“I _do_. I _love_ how cuddly you are when your sick, I _love_ how you’re always open when I say I want someone to nap with, I _love_ that little belly and those armpits and those toes, _oh_ , those toes, I could nibble on them _all day_ ,” he squeezes his chin lightly. “I _love_ you. I don’t need you to fulfill some sort of role, I just need you to be you, the one that I came to love, no one else. Nothing more.”

He watches the Power squat slightly, curling his arms under his bottom, and stands, lifting him off his feet. “I think you and I need to have some nice quality time together.”

He smiles, his woes forgotten, reassured by the one he loved the most. “What are we gonna do, papa?”

Abraxos smiles up at him. “I _especially_ love it when you call me _‘papa’_.” He steps forward, towards his bed, carrying him across the room. “I can think of a few things.”

Chayyliel shrieks as he tumbles back on the bed, the Power following after him in turn, crawling up over top of him, he reaches up, to brace against him, and he intertwines the fingers of their right hands, lifting his arm up above his head as he settles over top of him. “Pahapa!”

“Just a few things.” He dips a finger under the hem of his sleeve, wiggling it lightly into his armpit, and Chayyliel giggles brightly, he savors in his giggles, he lives for them, _especially_ his, he needs as many giggles as he can get, he needs them all. “A few itty-bitty things.”

“Pahapa! Nohoho!”

He leans over, their fingers still intertwined, arms still raised above their heads, and he presses his forehead to his youngest Elect’s, looking into his eyes as seriously as he can. “I _love_ you, Chayyliel. I _love_ you, with _all_ my heart, just as much as I love the others. This concerns me, Chayyliel, these thoughts your having, the way you’re thinking of yourself, this concerns me deeply.” The youthful eyes stare back into his. “I want you to talk to me, Chayyliel, that’s what I’m here for. I’m still your mentor. I’m still your papa. I want you to talk to me. If you’re feeling this way, I want you to talk to me, alright, don’t avoid me, I want to help, I want to reassure you, I want you to talk to me, can you promise me you’ll talk to me?”

The young Elect nods lightly. “I’ll talk to you, papa.”

“Do you promise?”

Chayyliel nods lightly. “I promise.”

“Good, thank you, thank you, Chayy, little baby chameleon, thank you.” He lets go of his hand, bracing himself above him, his hands resting on either side of his head, he pushes himself up. “Grab on.” Chayyliel smiles, leaning forward to curl his arms around the Power’s neck, pressing their cheeks together, he feels the elder smile too, curling his left arm around his waist, he turns them over, and he falls to lay against his chest, his head resting in the crook of his shoulder, forehead rubbing against the side of his neck. “We’re going to take a nice long nap, you and me, chameleon, we’re going to spend some one on one quality time together.”

“Just us?” Chayyliel picks at the Power’s tunic collar. “What about the others?”

Abraxos rubs at his back soothingly. “I’m sure Hama would be happy to stay with Thaddy for a week. The others can take care of themselves.” He squeezes him for a moment. “You need me more, and I’ll be there, every step.”


	143. Spending Energy

“Micha, it’s been some time since we last saw you here, how’s retirement been treating you?” Nisroc clasps the Archangel’s arm, pulling him into a slight hug, Michael chuckles, withdrawing once the hug comes to a close. “He’s been playing in the flowers!” They both turn to look at the youthful voice, Adonai waves up at the Power, grinning cheekily, Iaoth snorts and elbows his brother in the side, the other elbows him back, and they both exchange a quick smile. Michael shakes his head at the two of them, they were more trouble then they were worth, but he cared for them both deeply, he wouldn’t trade the pair of them for anything.

He turns back to his Captain (once his, always his, retirement or not) and gestures to the two youths. “As you can hear, I’ve taken up gardening, Joshua is a rather skilled teacher.”

Nisroc smiles. “I thought he may be, he’s always been rather skilled when it comes to his plants.”

“That he is.” Michael gestures to the boys once more. “I was hoping you might be up to the task of spending excess energy.”

“Sir?” Old habits die hard.

The archangel nods. “I was wondering if you’d be up to a bit of sparring, I realize how busy you must be, I hope I’m not imposing.”

“Hey, the chance to wipe the floor with these two?” The Commander turns to look at the two young miracle workers. “I can make time for that.”

“You wish gramps!”

“We could take you blindfolded!”

Nisroc smiles down at them, he’s never one to underestimate his opponents, but even he’s fallible, to think that someone as simple as a miracle worker could take him on. “I’ve been training longer then you’ve been alive, I think that’s a bit presumptuous.”

“You know what,” let it not be said being underestimated didn’t make Iaoth’s blood boil. “We accept that challenge.” Abonai nods in agreement.

“I think I’ll want to witness this skirmish myself.” Michael sounds extremely amused with this whole situation. “Are you going to turn down the challenge made by two younglings.”

“No, no, I’ll take their challenge.” The Powers Captain nods lightly. “I’ll take it easy on you two.”

Iaoth stalks forward, Adonai laughs softly behind his hand, and the taller boy pokes him in the chest. “Well, we _aren’t_ taking it easy on _you_.” He stomps passed, calling for the other to follow him, Adonai laughs softly and darts forward, following his brother to the weapons wrack.

Nisroc turns to watch them, his archangel comes to stand at his side, watching the two of them look through the weapons on the rack. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something?”

Michael pats him on the back lightly. “I think I may get Raphael to come watch this as well.”

He turns to look at the older angel. “Why garnering a crowd?”

“I just think it might be quite the spectacle.”

Nisroc turns to him completely. “I feel as though there’s something you know, that I don’t.”

“Nothing at all, my dearest boy.” The oldest Archangel squeezes his shoulder. “I’m going to get Raphael, don’t start without us.”


	144. Playing Favorites

When the two of them arrive, in the midst of an argument, anyone who’s been around long enough knows that the best course of action is to alert their Archangel. He’ll sort it out, and stop any possible carnage that may ensue, and bring peace back between the two of them, it’ll be a great time, they just have to find out what’s managed to bring the two to odds.

“That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair!”

“He favors you more!”

“He favors _you_ more!”

“He does not!”

“He does too!”

“He does _not_!”

“He does _too_!”

“Boys,” Oren smirks at them as he steps between them, and the Archangel stands before them, his hands resting on his hips. “Boys, what’s the meaning of this squabble between you two, it’s unlike you two to argue between each other.”

“You favor him more!” Iaoth points at his brother. Adonai points right back. “You favor _him_ more!”

Raphael pinches at the bridge of his nose, heaving a deep sigh, and shakes his head in exasperation, before looking back down to the two of them. “You’re arguing about which one of you I like more over the other?” He shakes his head once more, holding his hands out to them. “Come, come on, come with me.”

They nod, seeming to catch the exasperation in his tone, and step forward, he curls his arms around their shoulders as he turns them around, guiding them back in the direction of his office. They lean into his sides, reaching up to curl their fingers around his belt, and he squeezes their shoulders as he leads them down the hall and turns them into his office, guiding them down in the chairs on the other side of his desk.

“Cookie?” He holds a plate out to them, and they both thank him softly, taking a cookie off the top. “You can thank Puriel and Peliel when you see them.” The Healer crosses around behind his desk, falling back into his chair, and crosses his arms lightly. “Where did this idea come about, that I favor one of you over the other, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Arlo said—”

“Yea, Arlo said—”

_“Arlo?”_

Their mouths snap closed at his tone, it’s not a tone they hear often, directed at them especially.

Iaoth and Adonai jump slightly when smacks a hand down on his desk, it’s not like the calm collected Healer to lose his temper, his bright blue eyes flit up to them at the movement, and the electric blue fades to warm emerald green. “I’m sorry, my little ones, I did not mean to startle you.” He pushes himself up, crossing out from behind his desk, and they turn to watch him cross to the door, yanking it open, he barks something out to someone standing at the end of the hall.

Raphael turns back, looking at the both of them, and heaves a sigh, shaking his head again, he crosses back over the length of his office to sit back at his desk. “Come here, come,” he holds his hands out to them, and they push themselves up from their chairs, scurrying around his desk, they both take a hand and he pulls them down to sit with him, curling his arms around their waists, pulling them back, and they rest against his sides.

A shadow turns the corner before the body does, and a young male steps into the Archangel’s office, Oren shoves him forward lightly, Raphael glares at him slightly, and the Virtue closes the door behind him.

“Arlo, thank you for coming.” The Healer’s tone is deceptively kind, Iaoth and Adonai turn to look at him, he doesn’t spare them a glance, but he does squeeze their waist’s firmly. “Would you care to enlighten me on something?”

Arlo licks his lips lightly. “On what?”

“Would you care to enlighten me as to why _my_ two younglings are telling me you told them I favored one over the other?”

He blinks. “W—What?”

“Let me make it plain for you, why are _my_ two younglings are telling me you’ve been instigating fights between the two of them?”


	145. A Late Morning

“Good morning, Isa.” The young Nephilim waves to the oldest Archangel in greeting, Michael smiles at him, sipping from a steaming mug of coffee. “Looking for your father?”

“Mhmm.” He nods, pausing in the entrance of the hall. “Is he in his room?”

“Yes, he was up rather late last night, I believe he is still sleeping.” The oldest Archangel hums into his mug. “Are you going to wake your father, Isaiah?”

“No way,” Isa shakes his head, then he nods, which turns into a shrug. “Maybe for a minute, I just need to ask him something.”

“Oh, maybe I can help?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head and turns down the hall. “Thanks, Uncle Michael.”

He comes to the Healer’s room quickly, and turns to face the door, reaching for the door handle, he twists it, pushing the door open. There’s a mound in his dad’s bed, under the blankets, a dark hand rests just within line of sight, limp, his dad’s still sleeping. He looks around his dad’s room from the doorway, spotting what he came for, and tiptoes in, watching the gentle rise and fall of the mound, mindful of any breaking in the rhythm or movement in that hand he sees. As he crosses the room, he sees his dad’s face, his eyes closed, expression peaceful, sound asleep.

The Nephilim reaches out for the length of wood, the staff of Raphael, he’ll have it back before he even notices it was gone.

“Isaiah, no.”

He jumps around, expecting to see his dad’s emerald eyes watching him, but he hasn’t moved a muscle. His eyes are still closed, his expression still peaceful, hand still exactly where he saw it last. “Dad?” He gets nothing. Crossing over, he comes to stand at his dad’s bedside, leaning over, he curls his fingers around that hand, and tugs lightly. “Dad?”

“Mmmm?”

“Dad, can I borrow your staff?”

“No.”

He bites his lip and tugs on his hand again. “Can I borrow your bow?”

“No.”

“Aww!” Isa tugs on his dad’s hand again. “Please, dad?”

“No.” His dad’s fingers curl around his hand and he tugs him forward slightly. “Come here.” Isa huffs, but steps forward, letting himself be pulled down into his dad’s bed. Sliding under the blankets, he settles in next to him, he let’s go of his hand to curl his arm around his waist and pull him closer, warm lips press against his forehead for a moment. “Sleep with me.”

“But dad, I’m not tired.”

He looks up when his arm moves, his hand reaching up, his dad’s large hand curls over his forehead, and he’s washed in it. That warm tingly feeling he gets when his dad uses his grace on him, it’s there for only a moment, then it moves, his arm curling back around his waist.

Isa yawns. “That’s cheating.”

“Tired, now?”

He yawns again, pressing in closer, his dad’s always so warm. “You’re a cheater.”

Raphael smiles above his son’s head when he feels him cuddle in closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep with me?”

“Yea, daddy,” Isa closes his eyes, pressing his ear to his dad’s chest, listening to his heart beat. “I’ll sleep with you.”


	146. Oren

He stayed with Ephraim long enough to see his eyes flutter closed of remain, his chest rising and falling softly with gentle snores, and he sighed, leaning forward to run his fingers through his sleeping Virtues hair. His hair was still damp from his bathing, cooling now that he lay out in the open, out of the warm water.

Stroking through his sleeping healer's hair, his eyes lifted, seeking out the one he sought after next. This particular meeting had to be handled with a certain amount of care, it was a touchy situation, for one to loose themselves so drastically as to take their own life.

Turning back to the one whose hair he stroked his fingers through, he smiled lightly, even though he could not see it. "Sleep well, Eph."

Standing from the side of his bed, he spared him one final glace, and when he was sure he would not awaken, he parted from his side for the time being.

His next query stood just a few beds away, leaning against a desk, distracted by the files he was reading through. He came to stand before him, gently pushing the files down, to gain his attention.

"Oren, may I have a word with you?"

His Captain bows his head in shame, nodding his assent, and he gestures for him to follow as he guides him to his office. Oren sits at his desk without prompting, head bowed away from his imploring gaze, wringing his fingers together. The archangel watches his Captain carefully as he crossed behind him, squeezing at his shoulder as he passes beside him, coming to sit behind his desk once more. Crossing his arms, he leaned forward against his desk, studying his shaken Captain for a silent moment.

"I'm sorry." He blurts it out, as though it was an inner battle to keep the words within his chest, and it surprises him slightly. Raphael tilts his head. "What for?"

"I—I abandoned my brothers…." Oren licks his lips nervously. "I was a _coward_. I should be ashamed. I abandoned those that needed me. I let _you_ down." He nods as though to assure himself and his archangel. "You should be _ashamed_ of me."

"I am far from ashamed of you, Oren."

"But you _should_ be." He squeezes his hand, fingers curled tightly, shaking his head softly. "I was….I was…"

"Talk to me, Ori." He reaches a hand out, nodding pointedly to his Captain's, and Oren lays a shaking hand over his. "Talk to me." Nimble fingers curl over the Virtue's hand.

It's a precarious situation they're in. He's clearly still haunted by the cause of his action, it clearly still crosses his mind, but now there is shame. He's ashamed of himself, ashamed of what he did, even though there is no blame placed on him for what edge he was brought to by outside forces. He feels as though there is blame that should be placed on him, that he had abandoned his duties, his purpose, and his brothers. That he has let his archangel down, a spite in the face of what he stands for, he ruined something so wholesome.

A very precarious situation, indeed.

Oren stares at him for a moment, as though the words just won't come forward, and swallows deeply. "I _couldn't_ take it anymore." He nods, as though agreeing with his own admission. "I _couldn't_ take it."

"Couldn't take what?" He rubs his thumb over the back of his Virtue's hand, squeezing just enough with his other fingers to offer gentle reassurance, this is Oren's time now, his time to vent, to get whatever ailments he carried around with him off of his shoulders, he was merely hear to offer a listening ear, a shoulder if he should need one, and reassurance where it was needed. "Tell me what it is, Ori."

He closes his eyes, as though in the notion that if he doesn't see him sitting there that he is not admitting his faults to anyone, as if that was a shameful deed to be done.

" _Everything_ was broken. There was so much _death_. I couldn't….I couldn't _do_ it anymore." He shakes his head slightly. "Everyone looked to us for stability, something that we couldn't give, despite how much we tried to." He heaves a breath. "My friends, my _dearest_ friends, they were evolving into something they shouldn't have been. Zaves was taken to the Prison and there was nothing that I could do. Everyone was disappearing. _You_ were gone."

"I was."

"With _you_ gone, everyone turned to _us,_ we could never replace _you_." Oren finally opens his eyes, their so pained, it echoes from deep within him and shines through his eyes. "People would come and ask for you. Seeking you out. And we had to explain every time. It was something we could never move on from. They'd ask questions we didn't have the answers to."

He can see the hurt that lies just beneath the skin, it curls around him like a blanket, it's eating away at his heart. His poor Captain is so broken.

"Then…As if it wasn't bad enough that we lost so many in the _war_ …Castiel comes. He orders us to follow him. A faction, a single faction, stood opposed to him as ruler and he destroyed them." He clenches his other hand into a fist. "He ordered us to follow him, he was our new commander, he was _replacing_ you. And once again, under his ill-fated attempt at control, the others turned to us."

Oren shakes his head. Silence overcoming him.

The Healer squeezes his hand. "What happened then, Ori?"

"I just…. _How_ could they expect us to help them?" He waves his free hand in the air to extenuate the question. " _We_ were just as broken as everyone else. But _we_ couldn't dwell in it. We couldn't mourn our losses. We had to take care of the others, listen to them weep at their loss, listen to their worries and troubles. There was so much _pain_ and _sorrow_ and we had to take on _everyone_ else's on top of ours and I…..I…I _lost_ it. I—I…"

"You finally cracked."

Oren nods, pulling his hand back, out of his grasp, and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders quake silently, as they come to the catalyst, they both know what happened next. He was the epitome of someone who had carried the weight of the world on their shoulders and no one could help alleviate it. His Captain had a big heart, always looking to put others needs before his own, and this time it had come back at him with full force.

"We were falling apart at the seams." He waits patiently for his Virtue to continue, he's like a river once a dam is removed from the equation, everything was flowing at it's own will now. "Constantine was pulling away from us. Disappearing to Father knows where for hours at a time. Zed was falling into himself, working nonstop, always at his station or tending to someone. Keeping his hands busy. Akriel stopped talking to us. He just…..He had nothing to say….So he didn't say anything. Ephraim…Poor Ephraim….He was in so much pain…But he never mentioned it. We had to take care of everyone else."

"But, there was no one there to take care of you."

Oren breaths in deeply, a shaky inhale of breath, and he peers at him from over his fingers. "I tried, I _tried_ , I swear I did. I wanted to make you proud. Keep your legacy going. Continue what you had built." He looks so worn still, so tired, and it breaks his heart. "I worked hard. I made sure that Zed's inventory never ran dry, I continued his work when he'd pass out, I'd drag him to a bed when he collapsed." He falls silent a moment. "I urged Constantine to talk to me. I _knew_ something was wrong. I begged him to talk to me. We'd talk late into the night. I talked him out of it. So _many_ times." He takes a deep breath. "I urged Akriel to talk to me. I begged him. We'd talk late into the night. About anything and everything. I begged him to talk to me. I _begged_ him." He buries himself back into his hands again, his fingers clutching at his hair, his words muffled slightly. "Ephraim…I tried to shelter him from it.. I know how it all affected him. I'd distract him and comfort him. I tried to keep him from it all." He exhales deeply, a deep sigh, it's a agonized sigh. "And then….Then I just couldn't do it anymore. I was just so _tired._ I just wanted…I just wanted a moment of _peace._ "

"You were so focused on holding everyone else together, you yourself fell apart."

"I let you down." He inhales a shaky breath. "After all that, I let you down."

"No, Ori," he stands from his chair, stepping out from around his desk, and kneels beside him. Gently, all things must be done in a gentle fashion for the time to come, he reaches up to pull his hands away from hiding his face, hiding his eyes. "Ori, you could _never_ let me down. _Never_. You tried so hard, _so_ hard, to keep everyone together, to keep them from falling apart, you ran yourself into the ground for their sake. That is _not_ something that I would _ever_ look down upon."

His Virtue inhales a shaky breath, as though trying in a near vain attempt to keep the tears dwelling right under the surface from falling, and he squeezes his hands tightly, pulling them up against his chest.

"Ori, you took care of everyone so well for so long, ignoring your own needs in favor of theirs, I could not be more _proud_." Raphael raises one of his hands, pressing his lips to the back of the Virtues shaking hand, their eyes locked together. "I'm going to take care of you now, Ori, it is time for you to be taken care of in the same manner you cared for everyone else."

Oren nods, his breath hitching, a tear escaping from the corner of his eye. They let it fall, like a small raindrop down a panel of glass, and it drips down from his cheek.

"First, I am going to be pulling you from your duties, you will rest. You will get _lots_ of rest. We will talk often, about anything you desire, I will be an ear there to listen to you vent your troubles whether they be good or bad."

He tilts his head, his chin dipping slightly, as he folds the hand back against his chest.

"I trust you know why I am also going to have to take your blades from you?"

Oren nods shakily. And he breaths a sigh of comfort.

"We'll get you better, Ori, I'm going to take care of you now."

He stands from where he kneels, pulling his Captain to his feet with him, and he tugs him forward into an embrace. Oren folds around him, clutching tightly to the back of his tunic, pressing himself deep into his shoulder, as the tears begin to fall and he cannot seem to close the dam on them again. Raphael hums, rubbing one hand over his back as he cradles the back of his head with the other, letting his poor broken Virtue sob his woes away into his shoulder.

It takes some time for him to calm down again, and he pulls him back slightly, caressing his cheek softly with his right hand. He rubs over his cheek with his thumb. "Let's go find you a bed, my little Ori."


	147. How To Tame A Virtue (Raphael & The Virtues)

He sighs as he spots his apothecary working at a steady pace at his workstation, bending and cutting and mixing and pouring, his apothecary whom he had told to return to his room for rest some time ago. Zed didn't notice his scrutinizing audience, too engrossed in his doings, his job required apt attention and he never faltered.

Stepping forward silently, he crossed between and behind his healers, as he came to stand in his desired position behind his Virtue. Crossing his arms over his chest, he heaves a sigh. "Zed, I told you to retire for the night."

"I'm almost done."

"It's amusing to me," He leans forward slightly. "That you think I was giving you an option."

"I'm fine. Let me just finish."

"Zad, I'm telling you, as an order, to retire for the night."

His apothecary waves a hand at him. "I will. When I'm done."

Rolling his eyes, the Healer sighs, and rolls up his sleeves. Cracking his fingers, he steps forward, if his apothecary wants to be stubborn then he will be harder to ignore. Zed doesn't see him coming, too engrossed in his work before him, and for that he's appreciative. His Virtue does however feel it when he digs his fingers deeply into his lower sides, squeezing in deep, kneading his way from his hips up to his lower ribcage. The reaction is immediate, he arches his back, arms raising slightly in surprise, the empty vials falling from his hands as he reaches down for the hands attacking him.

"Waitwaitwait!" Zed shrieks at once, bending over on himself, and his archangel follows. He's well versed in torturing his poor Virtues, he's had practice, lots and lots of practice. "I'll go! I'll go!"

"No, no, you had your chance." He pinches at his hips, digging his thumbs into the curve of the bone, Zed shrieks trying to shimmy away from him, but he holds on securely to his victim. "You wanted to finish so badly, then finish, put those vials away."

The apothecary barely manages to reach up for his vials when the fingers run up his sides again, and he arches once more, dropping the vials again in surprise of the action.

"I can't!"

"Oh," he smiles in amusement. "And why can't you?"

"Every time I lift my arms you make your attack!"

"Well, you don't have to, for me to _'make my attack'_." He digs in again and Zed yells in surprise once more. "I can do it any time I desire it." He chuckles as his Virtue barks a laugh and finds himself unable to stop. "Do you regret not listening to me, now?" Zed nods as he laughs and laughs, under the Healer's skillful fingers, curling his arms around himself to try and put a stop to his playful torture. "Go on, put your vials away." He shakes his head and the Healer smiles. "Put them away, Zed."

The Virtue nods, biting back his laughter, as he picks the vials on his table back up and reaches upwards to set them on their shelf. As he reaches, the hand lets go of his right side, and ten fingers skitter up his left. He yelps, drawing his hands back, leaning away from him, curling to the side, laughter exploding from him when the hands jump to his other side. "Put them away, Zed, put them where they belong." The fingers spider across his lower back, he arches away from them, and skitter back up his left side again. "Clean up your workstation." He forces the vials down, laughing brightly at the playful torment he faces, and reaches back down for his fingers. "Are you going to head on to the Loft and go to sleep, just as I told you to?"

Zed nods, his fingers curled around his Archangels. "Yes! Yes!"

"Good angel." He gives one final well meant squeeze and lets him go. "Now, off with you."

…

He took good care of his Virtues, their care and wellbeing was in his hands and he took very good care of them, their relationship was one he cherished. So, when Oren had come to him complaining about his feet aching, he took hold of the issue immediately, dismissing himself from the Infirmary floor and escorting his Captain back up to the Loft above them.

Where they sat together in the pillow filled lounge, his Captain laying across one of the cushioned benches, his feet resting in his lap as he massages the ache away. Oren sighs deeply, in comfort, as he works his 'magic', as they call it.

"I haven't had you in this position for some time."

Oren knows his Archangel very well. He glances up at him from under his arms. "Don't."

"I didn't insinuate anything, I was merely stating a fact, it's just been some time."

"I know what you're thinking." He glares at him a moment longer before laying back down. "Don't."

"I don't understand where you get the notion that you can order _me_ to do _anything_." He curls his fingers around his ankle. "You are _my_ Captain, and I your _Commander_ , if anyone here gives the orders, it is me."

"Is it, though?"

"Let's test that theory, shall we?" The archangel strokes a finger down the sole of his right foot, and he jolts slightly, kicking at his hand, glaring at him from under his arm when he chuckles at the reaction. "Order me to stop and see if I listen."

Oren jolts slightly when he scratches at the ball of his foot, and he can see the uplift of a smile peeking out at him from under his Captain's arm, he chuckles slightly and strokes his finger back down the sole. "Come, order me to do your bidding."

"Stohop!"

"I don't think so." Raphael shakes his head, poking at his toes lightly, and smiles in amusement when his Captain shrieks softly, yanking at his foot, only to find it trapped under his tortures. "I can't take your orders seriously if you're going to _giggle_."

"I'm nohohohot gihiggling!"

"You're not, are you sure, I could swear you were."

Oren kicks at him with his free foot. "Yohohour gohohoing senile!"

"You were always so cheeky." He turns to look at him, an eyebrow raised. "Did you just call me old?"

It's like his mighty Captain is a small fledgling again, giggling still, even though he's halted his torment. He smiles adoringly, shaking his head, when his grown charge tests his luck in nodding his head.

"I thought you did."

He lifts his leg slightly, straightening it out, and reaches forward to wiggle fingers under his knee. The Virtue Captain snorts, pulling at his leg, and throws his head back in laughter. He knows all the right buttons to push for him to get the best sorts of responses. He knows how to bring even the mightiest of the archangels to his knees, though only uses that knowledge on special occasions, Michael takes his revenge very seriously, and very much to heart.

…

The Healer catches him off guard, on more then once occurrence, when he seems to be too caught up in the atmospheric pressure in the Infirmary, emotions blending into one, overwhelming him.

He pokes him swiftly in the belly as they pass each other.

He continues on, but smiles knowingly, as the Virtue jumps and spins around, hands pressed to his belly protectively.

He pokes him swiftly in the belly when he comes to stand at his side as he instructs the new learners under their guidance.

Ephraim watches for him carefully for a while, it brings him great amusement, guarding himself whenever he walks passed. It brings him pause for a bit, waiting for him to grow complacent again, before beginning anew.

He finds his opening soon enough, as the unsuspecting Virtue reaches up to place a pile of folded cleaned tunics in the cupboard, he comes in swiftly behind him and reaches around to poke him in the belly. Ephraim yelps brightly, throwing his arms up in surprise, the tunics going flying up, falling over the floor in a heap.

"Hello, Eph." Raphael comes in behind him, curling his arms around his waist, pulling him back into his chest. His Virtue falls still, looking up at him. "Hello."

"I've decided that you need a good laugh." He smiles. "Something to brighten your mood."

"I don't. But thanks for the concern."

He chuckles lowly, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. "I'd disagree. And who could argue that knowledge with _me_?"

His fingers curl into his belly dangerously, and Ephraim looks down at them cautiously, squirming slightly in his hold. "I would try."

The fingers dig in and he doubles over at the sudden assault. "You'd lose."

…

He manages to get Constantine and Akriel at the same time, coming to stand between them as they guide their new class, and curls his arms around their middles.

There's no introduction, no warning of the attack to come, he only smiles at his new student learners.

And digs into their ribs at the same time.


	148. Consequences Of Striking A Healer (Zaveriel & Akriel)

"What's going on, here?"

The Infirmary is not blind to its scuffles that break out among it's patients, emotions are high, pain is mixed in, being surrounded by those watching your movements would make anyone stand on edge for even the slightest of things. They are always watching diligently for scuffles that do break out, to keep their patients safe from harm and to keep their fellow healers safe from harm, and when they catch sight of a scuffle, they are quick in joining it to bring about peace once more.

So, when he spots on out of the corner of his eye, he's quick is softly dismissing himself from his class to investigate.

There's a burnt hand, that's what he zones in on first, a hand burnt crisp waving around in the air in the patients irritation.

Poor Inca, looking so out of his element, as he's just trying to disinfect the burn and bind it in bandages.

"Zaveriel."

Wild eyes turn to him, and they shrink back, averting quickly at the expression they lay witness to in his gaze.

"Hi, Akriel."

"Hello," he reaches for his hand. "May I see this?"

Zaves nods, looking down to his feet, and lowers his burnt hand down for his older brother to tenderly examine his wound.

"Were you playing with the holy fire, again?"

He nods silently, hissing when he presses a finger lightly to one of the blisters that litter his hand, Zaveriel doesn't like making Akriel upset at him. Akriel's like Raph, he's strict when it comes to certain things and doesn't take others disrespecting the healers under his command, and he'll tan you if he catches you doing so.

"You're going to sit down, still yourself, and let Inca tend to your hand." Akriel looks down to his younger brother. "Aren't you, Zaveriel?"

He nods meekly, chancing a glance up at him, and nods again at the look he gazes into. It's the look that promises repercussions if he doesn't settle down and allow Inca to work. It's the look he gets before Akriel takes him by the arm, turns him around, and tans his hide. If he doesn't do as he's told.

"Yes."

His older brother reaches up and pats his cheek tenderly. "Good boy." He looks over his shoulder to Inca. "If he gives you any more trouble, just call for me," he looks back to the baby Virtue. "But that won't happen, will it, Zaveriel?"

"No."

Zaves doesn't like that look and refuses to look up until his brother squeezes his arm, and leaves them in favor of returning to his class.

It isn't long until his attention is called back to the pair.

Akriel turns to look at the sound of their struggle and heaves a large sigh, gesturing for his class to follow from over his shoulder, to return to their sides once more. He catches Zaveriel by the back of his tunic, the collar, much like a feline catches a kitten by the scruff of its neck and pulls him away. Inca looks up at him. "I will tend to him, Inca, you go take a moment to regroup and return to another patient." His healer nods in appreciation, turning to walk off, Akriel turns to look down at his younger brother, whom he has ' _by the scruff of his neck'_. "Hello, again, Zaveriel."

"I'm sorry!" He blurts out quickly. "It just hurt!"

"You struck my healer."

"I didn't mean to!"

"I don't care very much whether you meant to or not." He pulls him closer. "You _struck_ him."

The older Virtue turns him none to gently to the bed he stands before. " _Sit_." Zaveriel falls backward to sit on the bed silently, watching with wide attentive eyes as his older brother sits in the chair Inca had abandoned, reaching out silently for his hand. He's not as gentle as Inca had been trying to be as he washes his hand clean and binds it in a bandage, leaving his appendage disinfected and aching, and Akriel gives him a long silent, hard look.

He stands from his seat. "Stand up."

"Ak, no, no, I'm sorry!"

"I'm going to let you keep your trousers on, but if you want to fight me, we can remove them."

"No! No! I don't want to fight! I don't want to lose my trousers!"

The specialist twitches his finger slightly. "Then _stand_." Zaveriel stands quickly, standing before his older brother and his class behind him, the embarrassment about what's about to happen is outweighed by the notion of _what's_ about to happen. Akriel turns his finger slightly. "Turn." He sniffles softly, as he turns slowly, flinching at the hand that curls around his upper arm. "Now explain to me, what happens to those who strike _my_ healers?"


	149. A Bonding Moment (Akriel & Orion)

Orion watched them from the other bed, curled up into herself, staying as silent as a church mouse as to not interrupt their moment. They were close, that much was obvious, a relationship had formed between them that she hadn't seen before, or at least, from what she could remember. Her thumb rubbed gently over her arm, curled up in the fetal position, chin resting on her arms, she watched them enjoy each other's presence.

Akriel was leaning back against the headboard of his bed, ankles crossed, a book held open with one hand. He'd read them numerous times, and loved rereading them time and time again, he learned something new every pass through. Gzel was laying next to him, stretched out on her back, her right arm curled over his stomach in her spread out position. They were talking between each other, playful banter at play, and every so often he would reach down and poke her in the stomach. She'd bark a laugh and jolt slightly, as though wanting to curl her arms around herself, but refraining from doing so.

She curled up tighter, part of her wanted to join in, join in on whatever it was they were doing, but she knew her place. Gzel was the first one, she was the focal point, she had been here first. Akriel only invited her in because he felt obligated to, because the Healer had placed her under his care, he was just being nice to her because he was a nice person. Orion sighed softly, like a gentle nearly inaudible breeze flutter through the open space and curled her arms tighter around her knees as she pressed her face into the dark hole that was created, hiding away from them both, always stuck in her own little world. An outcast among her own kind, because the Mindbreaker had chosen her for the task of being her protégé, she didn't think she did anything wrong, but Orion was being punished for something. That's why no one wanted to be too close.

Orion heard the book close softly, a gentle thump, and he whispered something down to Gzel. There was no verbal reply, but the bed creaked under her as she moved, and the door clicked as she shut it behind her. Peeking up an over her arms, she tilted her head in confusion, jumping slightly when a hand pressed against her shoulder. Turning to look, there was only one person it could be, and she gazed upon Akriel's gentle smile. She liked his smile, she liked it when he smiled, it was so kind, so gentle, so full of love. There was no malice, no hatred, no ill intent. Just warmth and love.

"Where'd Gzel go?"

He shrugged his left shoulder. "I asked her to give us some time alone." He inclined his head slightly. "I _believe_ she may have gone to bug Oren. He'll handle it just fine." He winks at her. "He's had practice."

"Why….Why'd you tell her to go?"

"Because, I could see that you needed me." His hand climbs from her shoulder to her cheek, it's a gentle caress. "I'm a very observant kind of angel. It's what makes me so very good at what I do." He rubs his thumb over her cheek lightly and she leans into the touch involuntarily. It brings a smile to his face. "Tell me what I can do to make you feel better?"

"I—I'm just fine."

She didn't believe the words, and her eyes shot down of their own will, averting their gaze from his. If she couldn't believe her own words, she had no expectation that he would.

His thumb strokes over her cheek again. "I don't have to know as much as I do, to know that's not the truth, it's okay not to be okay."

Orion swallows, nodding slightly to the gentle reprimand, there's no anger behind it, but she knows that he doesn't like it when people lie to him. "You really like Gzel."

He nods, raising an eyebrow slightly. "I do. She's a very good angel. She has her up's and down's, but everyone does, she calls herself a _'work in progress'_. I know her quite well."

"Do you…" She scratches at her knee lightly, averting her eyes again, not wanting to see his reaction lest it be a bad one. "Do you like _me_ too?"

There is no hesitation. "I do." She looks back up quickly, he's smiling at her, and he rubs her cheek again. "I wouldn't have asked you to stay with me if I didn't like you. Is that what's wrong?" He tilts his head forward slightly, catching her gaze again. "You think I don't like you?"

She nods, and feels shame burn her cheeks, she knows they must had turned red because he chuckles softly. But he lets her collect her thoughts, lets her put them into words, to explain herself and her thinking. "I just…I...You and her get along really well….and you're really close and you make her laugh which is really hard to do and…and she trusts you when she doesn't trust anyone and you talk every day and you know what she wants before she says she wants it and you..you….."

"Hey, hey," he curls his fingers under her chin lightly, lifting her head, so that their eyes can meet again. "Hey, calm down, I think that is the most I've ever heard you say in one sentence before. That's great!" His fingers travel back to her cheek, wrapping around to just behind her ear. "I only know her so well because she's opened up to me. We weren't always so close. She used to only come see me when she wanted to talk. It took us some time to get where we are now." Akriel smiles softly, stroking a loose stand of hair back behind her ear, rubbing his thumb over her cheek again. "I want to get to know _you_ just as well as I know _her_. I just don't want to push you too hard, too fast, I know how harmful that can be. I want you to come to me because you feel comfortable doing so, I don't want to force you, and I'm always here to talk to. _Always_." He leans forward, as if to accentuate his words. "Anytime you need to. You just have to ask."

Orion smiled softly, a small smile, but something much more open then the ones she gave before. Those were reserved, as though she was just smiling so she wasn't the only one who wasn't, to keep everyone appeased. But, this one was real, she meant this one, it was all for her. Akriel liked her too. He wanted to know her, too. She could talk to him, too. He cared, that's why he took her in, because he wanted to, and he liked her. Just like he liked Gzel. He saw _her_. Akriel saw _Orion_. Not the Mindbreakers unwilling Apprentice. "I'd like to talk to you, too."

"Okay, I'd love for you to talk to me, when do you want to talk?"

She nods. "Every day."

He nods to her request. "We can do that. How about every day just after midday rest?"

She nods, again, and he nods in return. "Okay, we can start tomorrow, does that sound like a plan?"

"It sounds like a plan."

"Good, I'm looking forward to it." He lets go of her cheek, smiling as she slowly uncurls from her tight position, and he leans back on his hands. "What else is on your mind?"

"Why does Gzel laugh when you poke her?"

He raises an eyebrow in amusement to her question. "Why?" He tilts his head. "Because her belly is ticklish. It gets her every time."

"What's that?" She tilts her head in curiosity. He leans forward, eyebrows scrunching up. "What's what?"

"Ticklish?"

"You don't know what….My sister really did a number on you, didn't she?"

Orion doesn't seem phased by his statement, it's true, there was much she couldn't remember from before. It was all just too blurry, too fuzzy, and it hurt to try and focus on it too much. So, might as well make new memories now, to make up for the ones she lost.

He leans forward, arms resting on his knees. "Do you want me to show you?" She nods innocently enough, curiosity peaked, and he smiles at the childlike innocence that shines from the angel that is so typically so reserved. "Okay, I'll show you, lay back for me." She does as he asks, uncurling from her position completely, laying on her back, she watches him with wide innocent eyes. He shakes his head in amusement, Akriel turns in his position on the edge of the bed, turning to sit at her side instead. His hand is a warm heavy weight on her stomach as he lays it to rest there. "Tell me to stop when you want me to, alright?" She nods, her curiosity as peaked as a fledgling's, staring between him and his hand.

He digs his fingers in so suddenly that is catches her off guard, vibrating and wiggling into her stomach, and she arches, an involuntary response, laughter exploding from her in surprise. Her hands fly up to his, she's a small angel, her hands are so small compared to his, and she curls her fingers around his. He pauses, smiling down at her, his eyes shine with amusement. "Do you want me to stop?" She's breathless at the peace, residual giggles echoing after her laughter diminishes, and she shakes her head, still clutching at his fingers. The Virtue chuckles softly. "Okay." And digs back in, this time his hand moves, in a circular motion, sliding down to her sides, gliding over her lower belly, up to just brush against her lowest ribs. And she shrieks brightly, Orion throws her head back, laughing brightly into the silent room. "This is so cute. Your belly is almost as ticklish as Gzel's is. She hates it when I do _this_." Her guardian lifts her tunic up with his hands, hers having curled back into the blankets, and buries his face into her shaking belly. Orion arches her back again, her laughter rising in pitch and quantity, squealing brightly at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her bare belly, and her hands fly up again, curling into his hair when he inhales and blows deeply into her lower belly.

The Virtue pulls back, her fingers still tangled in his hair, chuckling at her giggles. "Do you want me to stop?" This time she nods her head and he nods in return, leaning forward to kiss her belly, and pull her tunic back down. He reaches back for her hands, carefully untangling them from his hair, and presses a kiss to her palms as he folds their hands together. "Do you know what ticklish is now?"

She nods and he chuckles softly, folding her hands up against his chest. "What do you think?"

Orion smiles, bigger then before, a bit more open then she was previously. "It feels _weird_."

"Bad?"

She shakes her head. "Not bad….exhilarating…it was…fun."

"I'm glad you had fun." He reaches forward to poke her nose playfully. "You deserve to have some fun." And then to brush her hair back behind her ear. "Well, I for one am going to return to my book, and you're welcome to join me."

Akriel smiles at her and climbs off their bed, crossing the short aisle back to his own, settling back in his previous position. This time, Orion does move forward, climbing off her bed and over to climb up onto the Virtue's bed. Akriel lifts his arm for her, and she scoots in close to his side, stiff at first, but melts against him, resting her head on his chest. His fingers rub lightly over her arm, and she sighs, closing her eyes lightly, listening to his heart beat against her ear. It's hard for her to believe that he's the Mindbreaker's brother, she's just so...so.…and he's so nice, they're nothing alike.

He's playful and nice and caring. And she, she's taciturn and mean and heartless.

"Go to sleep, Rio."

She opens her eyes, half-lidded. "I'm not in my bed."

"I'll move you before I turn in, you can sleep here, it's alright." He rubs a soothing circle against her arm with his thumb. "You're comfortable where you are. It's okay if you fall asleep."

"Okay."


	150. Talking It Through (Akriel & Orion)

He settled them in their lounge, on a soft, cushioned bench, surrounded by pillows. Akriel settled a blanket around her shoulders, kneeling slightly to look into her eyes, she looked so troubled and it made his heart clench that she felt so unsettled. He squeezed her knees slightly. "I'm going to get us something warm to drink, alright?"

She nods, staring down at her lap in shame, letting something so bad take control of her. That's why she never opened up to people. Why she never got too close. Because with one wrong thing, she could hurt them, and Orion doesn't want to hurt people. She wants to help people. Orion wants to be a healer. Orion wants to heal people.

The Virtue nods, squeezing her knees once more, and stands, heading for the counter and fire place. Their flames are always going, they never burn out, as if their enchanted. He just as to stoke them, setting a pot of water to boil. The flames burn hot, always, and it doesn't take long for the pot to whistle its being done, and he takes it off the rack, pouring some steaming water into a mug.

He returns soon enough, holding the mug out for her, and she reaches up silently to take it. "Some warm passion flower. Zeds the apothecary," he smiles. "But we all know a few tricks of the trade."

Akriel sits between them, a warm weight by her side, a comforting presence. He helps her lift the mug up with a finger under the bottom, guiding it to her lips, and urges her to take a sip. She takes a deep breath, taking a small sip, and lowers the mug.

"It's okay, Rio, you're not in trouble."

"I did something bad. I did something _really_ bad. I'm bad. I'm _really_ bad."

"You are not." He turns her head gently, turning her to face him, and gives her a comforting smile. "You're not _bad_." He guides her mug back up. "Take another sip." She does as she's told and takes another sip. "Talk to me Rio, tell me what happened."

She nods, taking a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm. And he waits patiently, Akriel's so patient with her, he never pushes and never gets mad and never yells, Akriel's so nice. He's so kind. He's one of the good ones. She looks up at him with wide fearful eyes, and he holds his hand out, she looks down at it. Orion bends slightly, setting the mug between her feet, and places her hand on his. His hands are so big compared to hers. She small, petite, compared to basically everyone she knows. His fingers curl through hers, and she curls hers through his, holding his hand tightly.

"Talk to me, Rio."

Orion nods, taking a deep breath, staring down at their hands. "He was there." She sucks in another breath and slowly lets it go again. "He touched me."

"How did Ion touch you?" Something flared in him at the implication of what that could mean, by Father, if it meant what he hoped it didn't, he'd tear him apart piece by piece. There'd be nothing left for them to put back together. He may be a medic, may be a healer, but he knew how to cause harm just as much as he knew to mend it. "What did he do?"

"He—He held me down." Her fingers tighten around his, the fingers of her free hand curled into a ball, she clenched both into a fist, as best as she could manage. "I—I fought. I didn't—didn't want to do it. So—So he held me down."

"How?" Akriel's so gentle. She likes Akriel. Orion trusts Akriel. "What would he do?"

She licks her lips, inhaling a shaky breath, and let it go softly. "I—I'd be forced on the table. He—He'd bend my arms back. Around—Around the table, around the back, so I couldn't swing. And then—And then—"

The trauma specialist leans forward, for to pick up the mug between her feet, and lifts it up to her lips. "Take a big sip." She does, swallowing it in one gulp, looking up at him as he pulls the mug back, resting it on his left knee. Gzel's beside him, on his other side, playing with her fingers, entertaining herself silently so they could talk. "Okay, what did he hold you down for?"

"So—So they could drill. They—They took my memories. I—I don't remember anything before then. They—They did something." She nods, swallowing again, curling her fingers tighter. He tightens his grip. "When—When I woke up I could do these things. People—People would start acting strange when I looked at them. I—I stared. I couldn't help it. We—We'd lock eyes and they'd start acting strange."

"What happened next?"

"She—She—Naomi. She saw. She—She'd watch. Then—Then she decided to show me everything. She—She'd show me how to do it. How—How to rewrite their memories. She—She'd hold my hand and f—force me to do it.

Orion choked softly, her eyes tearing up, and she sniffled lightly. "I—I did something bad. I did s—something really bad. I—I hurt so many p—people. I—I didn't want to. I—I p—promise I didn't."

"Hey, hey, look at me." She looks up, unwillingly of course, but he's so nice when he asks her to. He's not yelling. Akriel's still there. Still holding her hand. Still being so nice. "You're not bad. Okay, I'm going to say it again, you are _not_ bad." He holds the mug up to her lifts again. "Another sip." She takes another sip, this time without prompting, and he lowers the mug back to his knee. "I want you to say it not."

"But—But—"

"No, no, you have to say it."

The little healer licks her lips. "I—I'm not b—bad."

"Good, we're going to keep saying that, what happened?"

Orion looks at her sisters hands, her fingers moving around languidly as she entertained herself with them, creating shapes and such. "I—I hurt G—Gzel."

"What?" Akriel turns to look at his other girl, she looks up at him, nodding to confirm her words. "Yep. She did it. I'm not mad though. She didn't want to."

"She rewrote you?"

Gzel nods. "She was really worked up about it too. Orion was crying really hard, the Mindbreaker yelled at her for it, she kept apologizing." She leans forward to look at her from around his side. "Orion doesn't remember now, and I forgot for a long time, but we were friends before—well before _that_."

"I'm sorry—I'm _so_ sorry! I didn't—didn't want to!"

Akriel hands her the mug as he turns back around, curling her around to bury her into him, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders to pull her close. Her free hand curls into his tunic, clutching at the fabric as tightly as she can manage, sobbing into his chest.

"It's okay, there you go, it's okay." He strokes his free hand down the back of her head, his thumb over the back of her hand, their fingers still intertwined. "Let it out, now, there you go."

She cries for some time. He can't move, lest he have to pull her away from him, so he merely calls out to his other charge. "Gzel, you don't blame Orion, do you?"

"Nope."

He nods slightly. "Why not?"

"Because she was so upset about it. You should have seen it. She was so broken down about it. I can't be mad at someone who was like that." He knew she shrugged, even without looking at her, Gzel was Gzel. "She didn't want to. I knew that. So, I'm not upset about it."

It took Orion a few minutes to calm down again, her chest heaving once her sobs had come to a stopping point, leaning against his chest as silently as she could muster, listening to his heart beat under her. He fished in his pocket for a rag and pulls her back slightly to wipe her face clean, rubbing away the tracks of her tears, her face red and blotchy, her eyes red and glistening, he rubbed at her nose too, cleaning up the mess. "It's okay. Do you hear me?" He curls the fingers of his free hand around under her ear, rubbing thumb over his cheek bone. "It's _okay_." She nods weakly, refusing to meet his eyes. "Hey, hey, look at me, can you look at me?" Her eyes flit upwards, scared to look up at him, unsure as to what she might do to him by looking at him. She doesn't want to hurt Akriel. Orion doesn't want to hurt Akriel. But, nothing happens, he smiles at her, his thumb stroking over her cheek again. "It's okay. You're okay. Everything's okay. Do you understand?"

Orion nods shakily.

"What are you?"

"I—I'm not b—bad."

"Good girl." He pulls her forward and presses his lips to her forehead. "Good girl."

He pulls her back against him, curling his fingers around the back of her head, scratching lightly at her scalp. "We're going to take a nap, okay?" The Passion Flower is a sedative, it's to calm the nerves, it'll make her tired. And he doesn't want to leave her alone, not now, not after all that. "Gzel, you too, we're all going to go take a nap."

"Okay, Akriel."

Orion nods quietly, sniffling into his shoulder, and he sets the mug down lightly, turning as he stands, kneeling slightly. He unwinds his fingers from his little girls fingers, and curls an arm under her knees, lifting her from the bench, cradling her close to him as he comes to stand. She curls up, resting her head against his shoulder, sniffling softly. Gzel stands with him, her fingers curling lightly into the sleeve of his tunic, he nods once, turning them in the direction of the hall, of his room, and there they go.


	151. Tricking The Local Trauma Specialist (Akriel & Orion)

His brothers are laughing, crowded around him in the hallway, behind him, laughing.

He stands in the doorway of his room, arms raised in surprise, face scrunched up into something humorous, as he's met with the splash of a cool bucket of water. Slowly, his arms lower, and he rubs the water from his eyes, so he can see what's been waiting for him.

Gzel and Orion stand there.

Gzel is the one holding the bucket. She looks so smug, laughing at his expense, holding the bucket loosely in her hands. Behind her is Orion, she's a bit more reserved, the others are around obviously, that's why she's a bit more reserved then her sister is, but there's an amused smile gracing her features and her eyes glow playfully mischievous.

He rubs the water away again, brushing his wet hair up and back, out of his face, but he smiles in amusement to their trick. "You _little_ —" He lunges forward, Gzel pushes the bucket at him, and they try to scatter, trying to escape on either side. He drops the bucket, he has Zaveriel as a younger brother, he knows how to move fluidly when it comes to tricks and pranks, and snags one of them around the waist.

Gzel's laughter disappears down the hall towards the Infirmary below them, and Orion shrieks, he knows who he's managed to catch before their escape could be made. She kicks out, struggling to get his arms off from around her waist, and he laughs at her struggling attempts for freedom.

She laughs brightly as he spins her around. They others listen mesmerized, Orion's laughter is bright, melodious, with giggles mixed in smoothly, something they've never heard from the quite, reserved little healer.

Akriel leans back, tipping her back into him, and burrows into the side of her neck. She shrieks brightly, not seeming to remember that they are standing there, listening in awe for her free spirit playing around them.

"Ahahahak! You're sohoho _cohohohold!_ "

"Whose fault is that?" He speaks into her neck and she giggles brightly, scrunching her shoulder up around him, shrieking again when he shakes his head into her neck. "You're so warm, though." He digs his fingers into her sides, and she squirms, tugging at his wrists, laughing brightly for them all to hear. They dare not make a sound, not to interrupt it, wanting to hang on to every giggle they have never had the privilege of hearing before.

"Ihihihit wasn't my ideahahahhaa!"

"But you played along, didn't you?" He brushes his nose behind her ear and her giggles rise in pitch. "Which means you deserve this just as much as she does." He shakes his head again and she shrieks once more. "Now, I must punish you, so that you may think twice next time."

He steps forward, over the forgotten bucket, into his room, and the others take that as their cue to disperse and let them be. They've all heard enough of her giggles anyway, now they can store then away, remember them for later. It'll take time, they know it will, for her to open up to them all, like Gzel has, and they're sure they'll be able to explore those bright, melodious giggles then.

Akriel drops her on his bed, looming over top of her, and she giggles brightly as she curls up under him. A smile graces her features, it's so big, and it makes his heart burst with joy at the sight of it. He wiggles his fingers down at her, and Orion giggles harder, reaching up to hold off his hands. They wrestle for a bit, his little healer's a fighter and it makes him so damn proud, and he lets her come out on top, sitting on his stomach.

No matter, he's had practice, Zaves makes an excellent test subject. The trauma specialist bucks his hips, curling his fingers around her waist, lifting his knees up to force her forward, and she shrieks, laughter bursting from her when he buries his face into her lower belly. It doesn't matter that her tunic's in the way. It just keep his beard from rubbing against the smooth skin. Oh, he knows how bad his beard can be, you should hear Zaves _scream_ with laughter when he rubs his beard into his belly. Oren does it too. It's hilarious and heart warming every single time.

She rises, leaning forward, standing up on her knees and he follows her, tightening his fingers around her waist. He turns over, sliding her down in his spot he vacated, and she throws her head back against the pillow, arching her back before he pulls away.

Orion's still giggling breathlessly when he looks down at her, his hands resting on either side of her head against the pillow, and Akriel chuckles at her residual giggles. It took them some time to reach this point, where she can be so freely expressive around him, she's truly the freest spirit he knows, once you get passed that silence and cautiousness. "You're adorable." She smiles, giggling lightly, and leans back into the pillow under her head. "I'm the luckiest angel alive."

Her eyes shine with playful laughter as she gazes up at him. "Why?"

"Because you're all mine."

Orion giggles. "You love me, Akriel?"

He smiles down at her, giving a quick nod of affirmation, and leans down to kiss her forehead lightly. "With all my heart."

She giggles lightly, leaning upwards to kiss his chin, and he smiles in adoration. His hands shoot down to the hem of her tunic, and her eyes widen comically wide, giggles growing in quantity. "I love your belly too."

"No!"

"Yes!"

By the time he pulls away again, she's breathless, airy giggles escaping her as she curls up on herself, wrapping her arms around her belly and curling on her side. Akriel chuckles down at her, stroking the side of her head, her hair back behind her ear. "Did I go too far?" Orion likes playing with Akriel. He always stops when she tells him to. Akriel never goes too far.

Orion giggles, reaching up to pet his beard lightly with her fingers. "Your beard is so scratchy." He chuckles again, catching her hand, pressing his lips to the tips of her fingers. "But you love my beard, don't you?"

"I do." She giggles airily. "It's just really scratchy."

The Virtue winks at her playfully. "It's my secret weapon." He strokes her cheek lightly when she pulls her hand back. "What are you going to do now?"

His little healer yawns softly, nuzzling down against his pillow, he smiles softly. "I'm going to take a nap."

Akriel brushes his finger down her nose tenderly. "That sounds like a great plan." She smiles up at him. "I'd join you, of course," he leans forward slightly. "But I've got to go hunt down your little partner in crime."

"It's okay." She smiles up at him again. "More room for me." She stretches her arms out completely.

The Virtue chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. "I don't quite understand why you both like my bed so much. Their made out of the same material."

"Yours is comfier."

He brushes her cheek with a knuckle. "Whatever you say, little healer." Leaning over to kiss her cheek affectionately. "You take your nap."

"I will."

"Good." He leans forward as he stands from the edge of the bed. "You could use a nap." He turns slightly, pulling his cloak off the corner of his wardrobe's door, he shakes it out twice, and tucks it over his young charge. "This'll keep you warm."

Orion smiles, nuzzling deeper into the cloak, it smells like Akriel. It makes her feel safe. Safe enough to be sleepy. He smiles down at her. "The others are all around if you need anything, okay?" Orion nods, closing her eyes, pulling the cloak up over the lower half of her face, "Okay, Ak."


	152. Tempting The Healer's Temper (Raphael & Gabriel)

"Deserter."

It was a simple word that had so many repercussions that came with it.

Zaveriel bows his head, taking a step back from the accusatory glare that's aimed his way, stepping back into someone. Their hands curl lightly over his shoulders, he looks over in surprise, staring at the familiar ring. Zed rubs his thumbs over his shoulders lightly in comfort, glaring over his head at the Messenger. The Virtues close ranks, surrounding their youngest brother, Oren comes to stand before him, blocking the view of him from anyone who desires to gaze upon him. Akriel stands close to his right side, lifting a hand to set upon his head, watching the seen around them carefully. On his left, Constantine stands, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, shaking his head lightly at the Messenger, disdain evident in his eyes. Ephraim stands behind him, next to Zed, his hand pressed against the small of his back.

The Powers stand timidly behind their Commander, eyeing the Messenger carefully, shaking their head softly.

Behind the Messenger, the Principalities appear uncomfortable, shifting in their place, uneasy around them all.

_"Gabriel."_ Beside them, the Healer surges forward, his fingers curled tightly around his staff, as he comes to loom over the Messenger. "How _dare_ you say such a horrid thing to one of _my_ Virtues."

"Oh, shove off Raph!" The Messenger shoves the older archangel harshly in the chest. "He was mine first and he _abandoned_ his brothers!"

" _No."_ The Healer points a finger in the young archangels face. "He was _mine_ first." And forces him to take a step back, when he takes a step forward. "I _let_ you have him." His grip tightens dangerously around his staff. " _You_ are the _deserter_."

"He _left_ —"

"Following _your_ example!" His older brother points a finger in his face in warning, the Messenger goes cross eyed as he stares at it, his older brother's eyes shining lightly with the first signs of his grace peeking through. " _Watch_ how you speak to me, you little _fool_ , I don't take those who disrespect me, and most certainly those who disrespect my own." The Messenger is forced back another step. "You _lost_ him because of your own _stupidity,_ you continued promising the same thing over and over again and you failed to deliver, how could anyone continue to follow the word of someone whose word means _nothing_."

"I—"

"You lost _two-thirds_ of your flock because of your _failing_ to put them first."

Michael watched them both carefully, standing before his Powers, his Captain at his side. His arms lay loosely crossed over his chest, waiting only for the moment he's needed to step in, Gabriel has dared to tempt Raphael's temper.

"I—"

"You are an _insult_ to the commanding of a flock. An _insult_ to us Archangels. An _insult_ as a _person_."

"He—"

"I am _ashamed_ of you."


	153. Sick Healers Become Sick Patients (Zaveriel & The Virtues)

He knew he was a big bad Virtue now, a feared warrior and a knowledgeable healer, one of the four legions, a fearsome figure to stand against. He was tough and rough and powerful.

And with all that in mind, none of it stopped him, when he woke up feeling less then himself, from slowly climbing out from under his blankets and padding across the hall, slipping into his older brother's room, and sliding in beside him in his bed.

The older Virtue woke slightly at the feeling of someone sliding in next to him, turning slightly over his side, uncurling softly, he peered over his shoulder at the younger angel next to him. His younger brother didn't seem to notice that he was being watched, as he curled down under the elder's blankets, nuzzling down into his pillow.

He turned over, tugging his younger brother closer, he snuffles softly and leans in close, rubbing his cheek against the older angel's chest. "Baby brother, it's awfully early for you to be up and about." He rubs a hand over his face softly. "The sun hasn't even risen yet."

"I don't feel good, Ori."

"You don't feel well, Zaves?"

The youngest Virtue shakes his head, nuzzling deeply into his older brothers side, clutching at his tunic with his free hand. A cool hand curls over his forehead from his right side and he sighs in comfort at the feeling, it's so cool against his warm skin, and he leans in closer to it. "You're a bit warm, baby brother." He turns slowly, from laying on one side to resting on the other, pulling him closer even still. "Let's get a few more hours of sleep, alright?"

"Mhm…'Kay…Ori."

…

"Alright, I brought everything we may need; upset stomach, feverish, headache, lightheaded, you name it I got a tonic for it."

He wakes to the new voice, blinking groggily, rubbing a fist over his left eye as he sits up from the soft pillow he'd just been sleeping against. Zed smiles down at him comfortingly, sitting beside him on the side of Oren's bed, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead, then his cheeks, feeling for the warmth that emanated from the smooth skin. "Aw, baby brother, you've gone and caught a bug."

"I don't feel good, Z."

"So, I've heard." He strokes his fingers over the ailing angels cheek. "Tell big brother what hurts."

Zaves nods, leaning into the fingers stroking his cheek. "My belly hurts."

"Okay, what else?"

"My throat hurts, too." He coughs softly into his hand. "And my head." Then yawns softly. "And, I'm really sleepy."

Zed smiles down at him again. "Being sleepy is your body's way of healing itself." And pokes his nose softly. "But I've got just the thing for an upset belly, a headache, and sore throats." He hums thoughtfully. " _And_ , a fever."

The apothecary turns slightly in his spot, for the table that sits there covered in little tonic bottles, sifting through his small inventory and picking what he needs from the stash he'd brought with him. Popping the cap off the ones he's taken in hand, he holds them out one by one, chuckling softly when the youngest Virtue eyes them wearily. "I know they aren't very appetizing, but they'll help you feel better."

Zaveriel nods sleepily and takes the first one, sipping it down carefully, making a face at the taste of it.

Zed nods approvingly as he downs the next, the one after, and the last. "There you go, it'll take a bit of a minute to kick in, but it'll help you feel better for a time."

The younger Virtue nods, rubbing a hand under his nose quietly, sniffling in deeply. "Thanks, Z."

"Anytime, baby brother." He rubs a hand over his curly hair. "We'll get you feeling like new in no time."

Oren steps up beside him, holding one of his tunics in hand. "We need to get you into a new tunic, you've drowned that one in sweat."

The young exmessenger sniffs again, leaning forward pitifully. "I'm sorry about your blankets."

He waves away the apology lightheartedly. "Don't be." He gestures for him to pull his tunic over his head and swaps out the one he's carrying for the soiled one. "It wouldn't be the first time you've slept in my bed while ill." Zaves slips his older brothers tunic on, its too big for him, and he rolls the sleeves up over his wrists. He's so short, he muses grumpily, as he sits there drowned in his older brother's tunic. Oren smirks at him, as if he knows what he's thinking, and he grumbles lightly at the expression. "I'd have given you a pair of my trousers as well, but, you don't even barely fit into my tunic, so I thought against it."

"I hate you."

"You can sleep in your own bed, then."

"I love you."

Zed snorts as he turns away to collect up the tonics he doesn't need. "That was quick."

Their Captain nods in approval, smirking still, Zaves would never change. "That's what I thought you meant."

He nods to himself though, stepping closer. "I would leave you up here to rest, but I want to be able to keep an eye on you while you rest, so you'll come down with us."

Zaves pouts, and he chuckles, nodding slightly once more. "You can bring my blanket."

The youngest Virtue seems appeased by that statement, climbing out of his older brothers large bed, tugging the blanket along with him, curling it around his shoulders as he comes to stand before his older brother. Oren smiles at him, curling an arm around his shoulders, pulling him around slowly, he feels the warm presence of Zed behind him.

"Ak and Eph made you up a bed already."

"You told them?" The younger looks up at the older with puffy nosed horror. "It's bad enough that you guys know!"

"Who was the one that came to my room last night, again?" Oren gives the expression of one thinking deeply as he leads them down the hall and through the lounge to the stone stairs that lead down to the Infirmary below. "Oh, right, I remember, it was _you_." He rubs at the back of his head lightly before settling his arm back around his shoulders. "You couldn't have hope that I would have kept such a thing to myself."

"You guys are so smothering!"

Oren stops them at the bottom of the stairs. "If that's a problem, I can take my blanket back and you can go rest all on your lonesome in your own bed, we don't _have_ to care for you. Is that what you want?"

Zaveriel ducks into the blanket, sniffing miserably, trying to appear as pitifully adorably as he can manage. "No."

"Then quit complaining."

He looks down at the blanket he clutches so tightly. "Sorry, Oren."

Finds rub though his curls. "Don't be. I know your complaining because you don't feel well." He leans over to him slightly. "And, we would have taken care of you regardless." Zaves smiles at his hands, feeling warm and cozy pressed against his older brothers side, as he guides him to the bed they've made up for him.

There's an extra pillow there, fluffed up for someone to lay on, and an extra blanket folded at the end of the bed, draped over the metal frame. A jug of water sits on the side table, a cup already filled next to it, an oil lamp for when it's dark, and a few books to read for when he can't sleep.

Someone's waiting for them, their back turned in their direction, staring at the bed as though they're inspecting it for perfection.

He loves having older brothers.

"Hey, Ak."

The mystery person turns at the sound of his name being called, smiling at them as they approach, opening his arms slightly for him to fold into. Akriel's warm, not too warm, but warm when he presses his face to his chest. He rubs his back comfortingly. "I heard you weren't feeling well, Zavie."

"I feel bad."

He presses the back of his hand to his cheek. "I'd say so. You're burning up."

"You guys will make it better."

"Damn right, we will." He guides him around, leading him to his bed, and takes Oren's blanket for a moment, uncurling if from around his shoulders. "Lay on down, I'll drape his blanket over you." Zaves climbs in bed without protest, stifling a soft cough with his hand, dropping down to lay against the pillows in as comfortable a position he can manage when everything aches. Akriel does as he promises, shaking the blanket out, and lifts it to drape over top of him.

"You get as much rest as you can." He strokes the backs of his fingers over his cheek. "Call if you need anything. Or, at least, cough as loud as you can." He can't help a bit of teasing, even in this situation, he wouldn't be an older brother if he didn't find the opportunity as much as he could. Zaves glares up at him lightly, there's no heat behind it, there never is. "You're being mean to me."

"Never."

Zaves looks to their Captain. "Ori, he's being mean to me."

"I'll be sure to reprimand him quite sternly."

Zed snorts again, and he can hear the amused smile in Oren's voice, Akriel smiles down at him. "I'm terrified. I apologize."

The younger returns his smile. "It's okay, Ori, he said he was sorry."

"I'm quite relieved, baby brother."


	154. Just A Bit Of Convincing (Andre & Titus)

"You've been swinging that sword around since midday." He pants, dropping his arms as he turns to face the one calling out to him, sweat beading down his temple. "And it is long after dark now." There he stands, arms crossed, fingers tapping against his upper arm. "When are you going to call it to an end."

"I have to be ready when I fight for the position as a guard Captain."

"It is a good aspiration to want to be a guard Captain." He leans forward slightly, bending at the waist. "Too bad you are too young."

"There's no rule on age. I've asked."

"I wouldn't allow it. It is ultimately our decision who gets to try for such a place. I would never allow that."

"Then, I'll train harder." His arms shake as he raises his sword again. "Prove that I'm ready." And begins the motions once more, huffing and swinging, spinning and slashing. His companion sighs deeply.

"Alright," he nods in affirmation, prepared for the challenge that's laid before him. "I can see you need some motivation." His arms unfold from over his chest, and he steps forward, walking beside him, coming to stand at his back. The guard falls still as he hears him crack his fingers, his arms raising around both sides for show, and his arms lower slightly to look between both hands, held up and fingers spread. His arms lower even more ever slowly, as he looks between the two hands, watching silently as they slowly lower. The young guard yelps in surprise when the fingers dig into his sides, bending forward at the suddenness, the other following him as he does. "No, no, lift your sword, you want to train so badly, then we'll train." His fingers still. "Come on, lift it."

"Tuhuhus!"

"Lift your sword, Andre."

The young guard does as he's told, cautious lifting his sword again, and the fingers climb up to his ribs. "Tuhhuhus! Stohohop!"

The Power hums quietly. "Hmm, I don't know, should I?"

"Yehehehes!"

"You've lowered your sword again." He digs his fingers into his lower belly. "Lift it back up." His fingers travel around to dig into his flanks. "Lift it, Andre."

The younger angel arches his back, squirming side to side, anything to get away from those relentless fingers. "Tuhuhus! I—I cahahan't!"

"Sure, you can, it's rather easy." He pulls his fingers away, grasping his arms firmly, and lifts them to chest level. "Keep it there."

Andreus nods, giggling still under his breath, and tenses when the fingers return to his sides. They just sit there, resting gently, and he waits on bated breath for what he knows is to come. They jump to his belly and dig in again, spidering over it furiously, and he shrieks in surprise, his arms dropping again, and he tries to jump forward. An arm curls around his waist, tugging him backwards, and he slams himself back against the Power's front as he tries to pry the hand clawing at his belly away. "Tuhuhuhus!"

"I should do this more often." He hums over his shoulder. "You don't laugh nearly enough."

"Stohohohop!" The tip of his sword drops to the dirt under them. "Ihihiht tihihihickles!

"I know it does," he leans in close to whisper in his ear. "That's why I'm doing it."

"Tuhuhuhus! Plehehehehease!"

"I'll tell you what, because you said _'please'_ , I'll make you a deal." He finally relents, holding his hand out for him. "You give me the sword, and I'll let you go," he snorts softly in fond amusement. "For now, anyway." Andre nods quickly, placing the hilt of his sword in the Power's hand, Titus curls his fingers around the hilt of the sword and pulls it back, withdrawing his attack. The younger angel curls his arms around himself, still giggling quietly, trying to rub away the remaining tingles. The Power rests the flat of the sword over his shoulder, chuckling at the young giggling guard, curling his arm around his neck as he turns them in the direction of the Pavilion and the Barracks. "Come on you, you're getting cleaned up, and then it's straight to bed."

"How did you even know I was out here?"

Titus nods to the Pavilion above them. "I could see you."

"Are you going to send me back to my barrack?"

The elders fingers rub at his shoulder lightly. "Nah, you can come stay the night with me."

"But you only have one bed."

They look at each other, one up, the other down, and the Power presses his forehead to the young guards. "That's never been a problem before, you little octopus."

"I am not an octopus."

The Power chuckles, leading him up to the stone path that leads to the stairs. "I'd beg to differ. I can't even count the number of times I've looked for the source of the heat against my side, only to look down and see that familiar face of yours, all peaceful and full of the bliss found in comfortable sleep."

"Why do you care about me so much?"

"Because you're mine, kiddo." He rubs his fingers over the back of his head as they step over the final stair, into the empty lounge, the others having retreated to their rooms for the night. "Because, you're mine."


	155. The Trial Of The Century (Naomi & The Host

The Host stood in the crowded Heart Hall, trying to catch a glimpse of her as they dragged the Mindbreaker in for her second trial, for the crimes committed against the Host and the Council. Chains rattled as they walked her in, a muzzle wrapped securely around her mouth, in similar fashion to the one that little Calathiel wore, keeping her from saying anything should she want to.

The Powers, Virtues, Principalities, and Grigori lines the path she walked. Keeping the others at bay, as they watched her silently tread passed them.

Though they weren't fledglings any longer, the Power Captain's two charges stood at his side, only slightly behind his shoulders, fingers curled into the sleeves of his tunic. Watching her silently cross in front of them, the older of the two ducked behind the Power, and Titus, next to his Captain, closed the gap between them, hiding the young one from view.

The Virtues stood across from them, and in similar fashion, the two young ladies stood behind the one that had claimed them as his. The one who took care of them, gave them a place to belong, who was patient and understanding. Who never yelled and always forgave. Who gave them a home despite how messed up they were. Orion averted her eyes, her fingers curled tightly around the leather belt he wore around his waist, she would be clutching at his hand, had he not been standing at ease with his hands curled around the hilt of his sword. At his other shoulder stood her friend and sister, Gzel stared at the Mindbreaker intensely as she walked before them, as though hoping she could strike her dead with a mere gaze alone. Before them, his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, Akriel stood up straighter at her passing them, daring her to try and look at his girls. He _dared_ her to.

Eyes tracked him, the young guard leading his prisoner down the aisle, he could feel them burning into his skin. He felt disgusted, he was disgusted with himself, being so close to someone so evil, his eyes burned but he bit back the tears that had threatened to fall. After all their family has been through, she had to bring this about, caused so much more heartache and suffering, and for her own pleasure. Andreus wanted to be at his mentor's side, Titus's hand curled over his shoulder, or his arm around his neck, holding him securely and protectively. Everyone who saw them together knew who he belonged to, where he belonged, and who they would answer to if anyone had any thoughts of foul play for him.

She curled her fingers in the back of his tunic, clutching tightly as she crossed before them, watching her walk before her silently, shoulders curled inward, as though in resignation for what was about to happen. This one being had been the cause of her exile, her being cast out of her home, taking _everything_ from her. It was only her own self restraint and the knowledge of being stopped by the one whose tunic she clutched that kept her from leaping forward. She was robbed of her title, her position, her honor, her home, her _brothers_. Abraxas had as much right to hold a grudge as anyone whom the Mindbreaker had taken from did. She resented her. _Hated_ her. She wanted to run at her. Get at least one solid strike in. But, Abraxos shifted, rolling his shoulders, he adjusted his hold on his sword and she looked down as he reached a hand back, curling her fingers around his palm, he curled his around hers, and gave a reassuring squeeze.

_I'm here._

She squeezed his hand back in return.

_I know._

They led her to the center, a raised portion, where the four thrones of the Archangels sat, the Council convened.

She looked down at the scroll she held, then touched the tips of her fingers to her lips, _his_ trial had already come to pass, but this was the one who _allowed_ it to happen, who had made it so the opportunity could come to pass. Turning slightly, she curled the fingers of her other hand around the scroll tightly and sought out the eyes of the one who led the scribes, the Messenger smiled encouragingly, giving her a nod for strength.

Ishariel had this.

She could do this.

Turning back around, she straightened up, set her shoulders, and stared down at the accused below her.

Naomi stared up at her in silence.

Ishariel licked her lips, long since healed from the sewing that had been done and unraveled the scroll.

"Naomi, angel of healing and trauma, you stand before the Council at the face of recompence for the crime of Treason."

The scribe turned to face the gathered host, all watching her as she announced the proceedings for them all the hear, looking up from her scroll as though she had memorized this part.

"We are not here today to prove the question of guilt, that has been proven by self-incrimination and the events that took place before this time of peace, this is a determination of punishment for the crimes committed by the accused before us today."

Nodding, her job semi complete, she turned to look at the Head Archangel. Michael smiled at her, nodding in appreciation to her announcing the proceeding, and turned his attentions to the accused.

"Seeing as it was his gesture that was abused, I believe it best if the Healer were to proclaim what shall be done with you."

Eyes turned from the eldest to the third born.

He sat in his throne, his right elbow resting on the armrest, his chin pressed against his palm, as he watched them all thoughtfully. There was something in his eyes though, the quiet sort of anger simmering, the most dangerous kind of anger. "I am speechless." The Healer sat up straighter. "The gifts that I bestowed upon you were turned into something vile and disgusting. I have never been so _disgusted_. There are no words to be used to express how I despise you." He stood without prompting, and there was a collective intake of breath, even the other three archangels seemed surprised by his sudden motion. "You _used_ me. My kindness. My _generosity_. All that I am, you used it against me." He reached back for his blade, tucked in the belt around his waist, gripping it tightly in his hand as he pulled it back around. "You experimented on our family, you used sacred teachings that I gave you against their purpose, turning something so pure into something so tainted." He stalked down the steps leading to the center, slowly, one at a time. A predator stalking its prey.

The other three archangels stood up from their Thrones, gathering above him, as he took control of the proceedings.

Ishariel turned to look at them for instruction. The punishment was already determined. This was not what was said to happen.

Raphael came to stand before her, towering over her, a looming figure. He took her chin in hand firmly. "You shall never use your gifts against another again. If you decide it is in your power to abuse others with your grace." He slit a stretch of skin just under her jugular, in the precise way that was needed to get to the grace within the angel, and not bring them to bleed to death. He twitched his fingers slightly and the grace slowly seeped out, evaporating as it dripping freely, her knees wobbled at the sudden head rush and the only thing keeping her truly upright was his hold on her. "Then you will lose the privilege of having it."

He let her go, watching with distaste as she crumpled to the floor, and reached back to tuck his blade back into his belt. The grace wouldn't seep all at once, it would be a slow process, and she would feel it continually drain bit by bit.

"Cast her out."


	156. Good Boys Get Toys (Nisroc & Erathaol)

He padded up the stone steps softly, leading himself up to the empty lounge, where the burning embers of a fire slowly died in the fireplace. He padded passed the cushioned benches and fluffy pillows. Over the soft blankets that lay strewn over the floor.

Stopping at the bar, he took a drink from his bowl, and turned his way down the hall.

Doors were slightly ajar as he passed them, one room was empty and the one across from it had two mounds on the bed, another had two mounds too, one room had someone spread out on their bed, completely sprawled. There was a light flickering in one room, someone was still awake, sitting at the desk, facing away from him working on something his eyes were not privy too. The one next to him had a light flickering too, but they were asleep, a book covering their face.

And then there was the door at the end. It too was slightly ajar. There was two beds in the room, but only one was used these days, the other still there should those owners decide to come spend the night. A light was gently flickering over the room, casting it in a warm glow, the only occupant sitting up in bed reading through a thick old volume.

He huffs softly, turning into the room, trotting over the floor and jumped up on the bed. His companion chuckles, setting his book down, and reaching a hand out for him.

"Hello, Era." He huffs, licking his fingers at they reach up to scratch behind his ear. "Did you have an exciting day?" The hound nods, nudging at his hand, and he smiles as he begins scratching anew. The angel hound huffs, hopping off the bed, heading for the large pillow in the corner, and picks up a stuffed toy bunny. He carries it proudly back to the bed, jumping back up, and drops it on his friends lap. "I see you've guilted someone into getting you a new toy."

Erathaol growls playfully, nipping at his beloved new toy, and the Power chuckles fondly at him. "You love your new toy, don't you?"

He smiles when the angel hound presses his new toy into his hand. "Yes, yes, it's a very nice bunny."

The Power leans over to set his book on the side table. "Are you going to sleep on your bed on the floor, or, up here with me?" His hound companion whines and nudges his hand. "You can sleep up here, but you know you can't do it in hound form."

The angel hound is quick in changing forms, lunging forward, pulling his stuffed bunny with him, and curling around the Power.

"Thanks for the bunny, Nis."

"Only for you, Era."


	157. Just Up To No Good (Nisroc & Paul)

His older charge was a troublemaker, he knew as much, he'd been allowed to spend much too much time with Haniel while growing up, which turned him into the mess he was now. But he was a good boy, he didn't mean any harm, not usually.

So, when word had spread to him of the cruel prank played against a soul that just so happened to be in the same squadron as him, he knew without a doubt who was responsible for their trying time.

He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face, nodding to himself as he stood from his desk. This had to be addressed personally, it had been a personal affront, that would be dealt with swiftly. He turned the corner of the doorframe out of his office, walking at a steady pace from the part of the Pavilion he was currently stationed in, and took the stairs easily as he made his way down them, to the dirt field below them where the others trained under the elders instructions.

He crossed the training field silently, staring at the query of his interest, at the back of his head as he followed through the motions given.

His person of interest yelped when he snapped out and snagged him by the ear, his fists unraveling in favor of reaching for his hand instead, the Captain of the Power's tugged him around by the ear, smiling at him in greeting. "Hello, Paul."

The boy's eyes widen, fingers falling limp around his wrist. "Hey, Nis."

"I think we should have a word together, don't you?"

"Um, no, no, I think we're good."

"Let's go." The Power pulls him forward, away from his partner, nodding at Abraxos as they pass. Paul follows dutifully, if not just for the tone, but also for the obvious grip he has on his ear. "Yes, Sir." They march passed the other training classes, passed the more seasoned warriors, up to the stone veranda under the Pavilion. Paul almost trips up the stairs in his attempts to keep up with the tall Power's stride, and his fingers tighten drastically around his guardians wrist as he nearly falls, Nisroc catches him by the scruff of his tunic with his free hand and lifts him back to his feet swiftly.

They push the door open, well, Nisroc pushes the door open. "Sit."

Paul rubs at his ear but rushes forward to find himself a seat in one of the chairs across the desk from the Power's leather seat, waiting in silence for him to say what he needs to say. Nisroc shakes his head lightly, closing the door behind him, crossing around the desk to sit in the leather chair behind it.

He leans back, crossing his arms loosely, the fingers of his right hand tapping against his left forearm. "Why don't we start with what happened in the barrack today?"

Paul held his hands up placatingly. "I can explain!"

"Yes," he nods, still tapping his arm lightly. "Please, I would love to hear you explain this one."

"I can explain!" It was a struggle though. No explanation would appease his guardian. Nothing would sway his viper like temper. His grand prank hadn't been meant for amusement.

"Go ahead." He waved with one hand. "I'm not stopping you."

Paul floundered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing quite a number of times, and he drew back tensely. "I can't explain."

Nisroc nodded stiffly. "Well, then, let _me_ explain." He leans forward quickly, uncrossing his arms on one fluid motion, and slams his hand down on the desk. " _What_ have I told you about playing those _pranks_ of yours!"

"It was _just_ a prank!"

"It was _malicious!_ " He points a finger up at him. "And you _know_ it!"

"Well, he _deserved_ it! He's been _poking_ and _poking_! It's about time someone did something!"

"You should have come to me. I would have handled it."

Paul shoots from his seat, leaning over the desk, poking him harshly in the chest. "Yea, you would've taken on a new _pet project_! That's how you _handle it_! Sasha told me _all_ about _little Donavon_!"

"I don't need your permission to take someone under my wing." He speaks stiffly, his fingers flexing into fists, and he looks up at him with a heat in his eyes. "Step back. Lower your finger. And watch how you speak to me."

"Why! You going to _'take me under your wing'_ too!"

"I don't _need_ to take you under my wing." He stands with him, calmly, his anger a slow burning fire. "I've already _claimed_ you. You are _mine_. And you will _not_ disrespect me."

"Oh yea! What are _you_ gonna do!"

Nisroc huffs, nodding his head as he crosses out from behind his desk, and Paul watches him silently as he crosses passed him, his eyes widening when he reaches for the extra belt hanging on the hook near the door. "Allow me to show you what I'm going to do about it."

"Nis no! No! Nis don't!"

"Oh, where is this big _bad_ young man, now?" He takes him by the arm. "The one who thinks they can do so _disrespectful_ to me and not worry about the consequences."

Paul stumbles as he's forced around, hands grappling to pull the hand off from around his arm and to cover his bottom for protection. "No! No, Nis! I'm sorry! It won't happen again!"

"No, it won't, over." He's pushed against the desk, and Paul braces himself against it. "Nis, no! Let's talk about this!"

"We are done talking. I was going to let you go with a mere scolding. But then you had to get mouthy."


	158. Hold You Through The Night (Akriel & Orion)

She feels it before she sees it, the change in the atmosphere is a slight adjustment, it wouldn't have been felt by someone who wasn't as close to her as she was. It was enough to bring a ripple to her own calm dreams, and her eyes open quickly to see what has caused such unseen distress.

Her sister is asleep next to her, theres nothing in their room that could have possibly brought about the fearful emotion she was giving off to those directly around her, and she watched her carefully. Her eyes were flitting behind her closed eyelids, as though looking at a picture she wouldn't bare witness to, and her fingers clutched, flexing, at the blanket curled around her shoulders. She just watches her sister for a long moment, wondering if she'll pull herself out of whatever is causing this sudden change in mood, and then she whimpered, and Gzel was sure that she needed help pulling herself out of whatever had trapped her.

The unstable angel slowly pushed the blankets back, and slowly willed herself out of bed, bending slightly at the waist, she pulled herself up to her feet and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Their companion, the one that gave them hope, that gave them family, slept in the bed next to theirs. On his side, facing away from them, curled under the blankets, snoring softly as he slept.

Crossing around the beds, to the side he faced, Gzel rubbed a hand over her forehead and collapsed on the side of the bed. It startled him awake, he jumped up at the sudden shake of his bed, and rubbed sleep from his eyes in confusion when Gzel reached up to tug at his tunic.

"Yes, G, what can I do for you?"

She points at him, or more aptly, to the one behind him. "Rio's having a nightmare."

"What?" He turns to look over at his other girl. She doesn't move, but he can see the muscles constricting and releasing, she's tense from whatever plagues her mind. He stares at her a moment, and nods his head slightly, he knew this was a thing when he took them in. "You sleep here, alright?"

"Okay Ak."

The Virtue rolled off the other end, crossing over the short distance to the other bed, kneeling beside his young charge. "Orion?" She doesn't answer, but her grip on the blanket tightens, he can see the muscles in her face grow tense. "Rio, it's just a dream," her face slowly relaxes at the sound of his voice, the muscles slowly unclenching. "That's it, it's just a dream, Rio, come back to me?" Her eyes flutter softly. "Come home to me, Rio, come to Ak."

Her eyes flew open so suddenly. "Ak?"

"I'm here, baby girl, I'm right here."

His little healer turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder, and he smiles softly. "Scoot over." She slides over, from her side to Gzel's, and he climbs in next to her and raises his arm. "C'mere." Orion crawls closer, curling against his side, sighing at the feeling of his arm curling around her and pulling her in tight. She curls around him, like an octopus, resting her head on his chest and clutching the front of his tunic. His fingers scratch at her arm lightly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Orion shakes her head silently, and he leans over, kissing her temple lightly. "Okay. But we'll talk come morning, okay?" She nods at that. She wants to talk about it. Just not now. "Good girl, go back to sleep now, I'll protect you from the bad dreams."

"You'll stay?"

"I'm never going to leave you."


	159. Borrowing Clothes (Akriel, Gzel & Orion)

"Gzel?" He sifted through his wardrobe for what felt like the thousandth time in a single moment. "Have you seen my pullover?"

There was a beat of silence. "Nooo."

His hands came to a standstill. "You're wearing it, aren't you?" Turning to look at her, she smiled slightly, covering her mouth with the balled up sleeves she curled in her hands. Shaking his head, smiling in fond amusement, the Virtue turned to reach for his leather jacket instead. Of course, then he sought out his scarf, and frowned when he couldn't find _that_. "Where's my _scarf_?"

He knew she shrugged behind him and he stilled again, heaving a sigh. "Rio's wearing it, isn't she?"

"Maybe…..?"

Shrugging, appeased that someone was getting use from it at least, someone he cared deeply for no less, he turned back to face her. "Ready?"

The unstable angel nodded, climbing off her bed, stretching out the tension that had formed from her position. She reached out for his hand, and he gladly offered it out, curling his fingers around hers as she grasped his hand softly. Gzel had started helping him in the Infirmary, saying she'd rather help people then hurt them, the same reason Orion chose to become a healer after everything she'd been through and witnessed. Squeezing her fingers lightly, he guided them from their room, down the empty hall for the lounge of the Loft, and towards the stairs at the other side.

Side by side, they descended to the Infirmary floor below them, it was a lazy day, not as busy as they usually were. It allowed them to reorganize and restock inventories that needed restocking, Zed out in the atrium around the back picking herbs and such for his tonics, Zaveriel folding blankets and tunics to put in their designated cabinet, Oren was organizing the files and volumes in the grand book shelf at the other end of the hall, everyone found a task to be doing. And those that didn't have a task to complete caught up with one another, read through one of the books for the shelf in the back, Orion sat at his desk creating something in her sketch journal.

"What are you going to do today, Gzel?"

She looked up at him thoughtfully. "I'm going to help Oren with the books."

"Good girl." He pat the back of her head as she turned to head off and complete the self-assigned task. Akriel stood there long enough to watch her greet his Captain, Oren smiled down at her, squeezing her close to his side a moment, and nodded when she gestured to the piles of books around them. Knowing she was in good hands, he turned for his other girl, bent over her journal completely, everything else having faded to the background. He followed the trail to his desk, silently crossing to stand behind her, smiling at her lack of notice. "Whatcha working on?"

Orion jumped, startled out of her intense concentration, and spun around in his seat. He took quick notice of his missing scarf and tugged at the end that hung over her shoulder. "Nice scarf."

"I found an interesting flower in the atrium when I was helping Zed pick herbs." It was a slow process, but they were starting to open up to the others. Small steps at a time. "Does it look okay?" She lifted her book up for him to see, and he smiled proudly, running his finger over the intricate design and detail. "It's beautiful, Rio, absolutely exquisite."

She beamed at him, a mile's worth of progress, so much more expressive then when they first started working together. "What chore did you accomplish this morning?"

His little healer gestured to the beds in their section. "I changed out the sheets and made the beds."

"All of them?" He frowned lightly as he turned to look at them all. "On your own?"

"No. Inca helped me."

Nodding in acknowledgement, he reached his hand up, curling it around the other side of her head, and pulled her closer to press a kiss to the side of her head. "Great job."

"Thanks, Ak."

"Always, Sunshine."

She smiled up at him, turning to peck his chin lightly, Orion was a very bright person. Once you got passed the cautious exterior, she was a very warm soul, her smile was contagious, her laughter sweet as nectar, and it was all for him to bare witness to. At the moment anyway, they were starting to open up to the others, right now they were working with Zed. He let her pick flowers from his atrium garden.

"What chore have you done, Ak?"

He narrows his eyes playfully. "I just got down here. Someone took my pullover. And then, I come to find _someone_ took my scarf, when that little miss _someone_ has one of her own."

"Yours is softer."

"It's made from the same spool of wool." She smiles up at him, and he leans forward to kiss her nose lightly. "Is this the same thing that you two have with _my_ bed?"

Orion giggles lightly, a soft fluttering sound, the soft jingle of a small bell. She nods in affirmation and he chuckles. "You have to do your chore, Ak, it's important."

"Who's the guardian in this relationship?"

The little healer giggles again, reaching for the large stack of papers he'd collected, and put off doing for as long as he could. Akriel holds his hands out as she drops them into his grasp, and he huffs deeply. "Paper work?"

"You have to do it."

"But it's _boring_."

Her smile brightens his heart. "That's why _you_ have to do it."

"Are you saying I'm boring?"

She giggled again, closing her journal quickly, and hopped up from the chair she sat in. "Coming G!"

"No one called your name, you little mouse."

"She did! I heard her!"

"Oh, I'll show you _'boring'_. Maybe not now, but don't forget whose room you return to after night falls." He sits in his chair, settling the thick pile of paper in front of him, winking at her playfully. "I can wait. I'm very patient."

Orion giggles, brightly, pulling a spare chair away from the wall behind him to sit on his other side. "I'll keep you company while you work."

"Your company is much appreciated."

"You're welcome."


	160. The Silent Scream (Raphael, Oren, & Inca)

"Inca, could we please have a word with you?"

Had he expected a verbal response he was surely disappointed when the young healer barely nodded, coming to stand at his side, waiting for him to lead the way to his office. Nodding at the silent acknowledgement, the archangel curled a hand over his shoulder, guiding him forward, away from the patients he'd been caring for. Other healers quickly replaced his presence, some turned to watch as he was guided from where he'd been completing his duties, in the direction of the archangel's office. Inca ducked his head, avoiding their eyes, trying to drown out their whispers.

He heard them, all their insults, their accusations, their assumptions. He knew that none of them liked him, they thought he was too haughty to respond to them and their calls, and every time he turned away from them, as to not see the ridicule in their eyes at his lack of verbal acknowledgement. It hurt him to hear their whispers, how much they disliked him, and he always seemed to disappear for a short time after such altercations. He'd clench his fists, bite back the tears that threatened to fall, and bury himself back into his work.

Even after being released from his captivity he was still in isolation.

He looked at the others nervously as they entered the Healer's office, there was only two, he recognized the Captain of the Virtues immediately. They all knew him, like they knew the back of their hands, he never whispered things under his breath when he called to him and never responded, he would just look at him strangely and move on. Beside him was his direct Head, he knew him too, Akriel was kind. He always spoke so kindly to him, never seeming to mind that he never spoke kindly back in return, he just ruffled his hair and continued on through his tasks and assigning their patients.

Inca recognizes Orion. She talks to him softly, he knows a lot about her, almost all of her secrets. She glances at him nervously and shakes her head.

It wasn't her who told.

The Healer gestures to the chair before his desk. "Have a seat." Inca nods silently, timidly lowering himself down into the chair, its comfortable, there's a cushion on it. The Healer nods to those behind him and he feels them draw nearer, they come to stand behind him, he knows it. He fidgets nervously, wringing his hands together. Raphael steps around the edge of his desk, sitting in the large leather chair behind it, leaning back, resting his arms on the armrests.

"Inca, I'm not sure how to put this, there have been some complaints." He rubs his thumb and index finger together. "You are a nice boy, and I would not think you would, but do you think you are better than them?"

Someone had told on him, told the Healer, that he was merely ignoring them all. That he thought he was above them in station. They had told him about what the whispered about him, when his back was turned, when they thought he couldn't hear them.

He could.

He always heard them.

Inca shakes his head, looking down to his hands, shrugging his shoulders tightly. Someone hums over his head, he recognizes the hum, he knows the pitch and the tone, he knows who hummed. A hand comes to rest on his head lightly, pulling it back gently, and he comes to stare up at the Captain standing behind him.

Oren smiles down at him, lifting his hands, so he can see them. "Inca?" He tilts his head at the question, looking at his hands as they begin to move. _'You can't speak, can you?'_

He can't help it, he stares at his hands, as they rest in his line of sight. He knows they're waiting for him to respond, now that someone has asked such a question, they all wait on bated breath for the answer. But tears prick at his eyes, there's someone here that he can talk to, someone who knows how to talk to him, who knows what he'll say when he tries to tell them. Someone there to keep him company in his imposed isolation. The Captain smiles sadly, reaching forward to rub a tear away when it escapes, Akriel looks surprised, as though the thought had never crossed his mind, and there was no blame that could be placed for that fact. Orion's buried her face in her hands.

She knows.

The oldest Virtue comes around from behind him, and he watches him silently, tears trailing from his eyes, watching as he comes to kneel at his side. _'You can't talk.'_

Inca shakes his head, his hands shaking as he lifts them. _'You know…You know how to silent speak?'_

The elder smiles, nodding in response. _'I do. We all do. Why didn't you ever say anything?'_

_'I didn't want you to think I wasn't fit.'_

He shakes his head and Inca inhales deeply. _'Never. You're are a wonderful healer.'_

"Inca, is it true?" The young healer spins at the archangel's voice, his eyes wide at the realization that more know the silent speak then he thought they did, nodding cautiously. "Well, that explains that." He leans forward against his desk in curiosity. "If you don't mind me asking, were you created that way?"

He shakes his head again. _'No. Naomi did it.'_

"How so?"

Inca presses a hand to his throat, tilting his head back, and they can see the scar when he does. _'She cut my vocal cords. She called me a secret keeper.'_ He rubs a hand over the incision area. _'She said I was good for gathering intel and never betraying the knowledge.'_ He averts his eyes. _'She did it after the Eldest was taken. I saw her. I knew everything she had done. She wanted to make sure I couldn't say anything.'_

They all sit for a tense moment of silence.

"That cruel bitch." They all turn to the Healer in shock, having never heard him use that kind of language before, to see his temper turn so suddenly. He clenches his hands into fists, banging them once on the top of his oak desk, shaking his head in disgust. "I _despise_ her with the very core of my being. The _harm_ and _suffering_ she has caused so many people." He shakes his head, turning to like back at his young healer before him. "You know you didn't deserve that treatment, yes?"

_'I guess…'_

Oren takes his hand, shaking his head firmly. "You didn't, Inca. I can't begin to imagine how you must feel. Being so isolated in your own little world because no one can hear you screaming. Well, no more, I hear you, little Inca." He shakes his head. "Do you hear me loud and clear? I hear you. We will talk every day. You will never know that isolation again."

Inca stares at him, his eyes watering once more, tears gathering. No one's been this nice to him since he came here, no one's understood, no one's _heard_ him. Oren smiles at him, wiping a tear away as it falls again, and guides him to his feet. "I hear you, Inca." He pulls him into a warm embrace, to offer comfort and privacy for his breaking down like this. Inca breaths a sob, curling around the Virtue Captain, clutching at his tunic as tight as he can manage. He's the one that threw him a line, that tried to understand, who has been turning his mind over the silent mystery that was the little healer; Inca.

Akriel's eyes were wide, he knew they were, surprise having taken hold of him. There would be shame next, shame that he had not known that one of _his_ healers was suffering a silence that had been cruelly reigned down on him.

"I'm sorry." They turned, Inca felt Oren move as he did, his arms tightening around him, to look at the other young healer. Orion looked truly troubled, and Akriel turned, leaning to the side as he pressed a hand to the small of her back. She was shivering in shame. "I knew. I knew and I never told. Inca asked me not to and I agreed. I shouldn't have. It was wrong. I'm sorry."

"You knew?"

Orion nods slowly. "That's why we pass files so often. We write notes to each other. I don't know how to speak the silent speak. So we write."

Inca calms after a long moment, pressing his ear to the Virtue's chest, listening to his heart beat under him. He feels his elder press his hand to the back of his head, and he pulls away, Oren smiles down at him. "Feel better?" He nods shyly, feeling a faint warmth come over his cheeks, he's blushing. "You must be bursting at the seams, having so much you want to say, share a secret. Give us something."

He looks between them all, eyes landing on the Healer, and he raises an eyebrow at the attention. _'The beds in the dorms are uncomfortable.'_

The two Virtues laugh at his admission, his archangel chuckles in amusement, nodding at his admission. "Thank you for the notice. I will look into it immediately." Inca smiles, nodding silently, a drastic change from the quiet timid thing they had seen when he'd first joined them. Oh, the change that can be made when being able to communicate with someone. Oren pets the back of his head, letting him press his ear back to his chest, his voice rumbles as he speaks. "Do you have any dorm mates?"

Inca shakes his head. He doesn't see it, but they're frowning, no one should be along, isolated, because of something they cannot control.

"You come stay with me, then." He looks up immediately, his eyes wide, and the older healer nods in affirmation. "I'll take you, then, they clearly don't know who they're losing. They don't deserve you if they're going to shun you."

_'Come stay…Come stay with you?'_

He nods. "I could use a companion myself, and you'd be perfect, if you'd want to."

The younger healer nods quickly, pressing himself back against the Virtue, the only one who truly reached out. The one that took the time to come to the conclusion and test his theory. The only one that thought to try. "I'll take that as a _'yes'_ , then." He scratches at the back of his head. "We'll get you a bed immediately, something much more comfortable then your dorm bed, I promise." He smiles, a silent giggle coming from him, it rumbles in his chest. "Come, let's go get your things, we'll get you comfortable." Oren turns, curling his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close against his side. Inca smiles widely, happier then they've seen him since his arrival, and it warms their hearts.

Raphael smiles as they depart.

His Captain will take good care of the silent healer.


	161. Reestablishing Relationships (Donavon, Puriel, Nisroc, & Paul)

"Hello, Donavon."

He spares the younger angel a glance as he enters his office, reading through the files of the newest trainees under their command and guidance, smiling as he listens to the younger angel hum as he looks through the interesting books he's collected over his lifetime and travels. He gets a book from every place he's sent, Earth, other Galaxies, he takes one as a souvenir.

Happy to share them with any who are interested.

"Hello, sir."

The Captain falls still for a moment, his eyes flitting up to stare at the back of the youth's head, and as though he felt the gaze on him, Donavon turns to meet his gaze over his shoulder. "I could have sworn I've told you not to call me that."

He smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, Nis."

"Much better." He nods in approval, sighing as he closes the file he's reading through, he hates doing paperwork as much as the next guy does. He tosses the stack of files onto his desk, coming to stand behind the young man searching through his books, he curls his hands over his thin shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "You're as thin as a twig, I don't know how you manage to keep up, you'll come dine with us at the Pavilion tonight, you could do with a bowl of thick stew. We need to get some meat on those bones." Donavon giggles lightly and nods at his words. "Finding anything?"

The youth shrugs lightly. "There's so many interesting looking ones." He looks up at the taller angel for a moment. "I don't know how to choose."

"Allow me to lend a hand, then." He looks down to meet his gaze. "What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't know…Adventure? A place different than this one."

Nisroc smiles. "I got just the one." He reaches forward, leaning over him, Donavon ducks slightly as he does. He takes a deep maroon book by the spine and pulls it free, pulling it down for him, it sits kind of higher then he can manage. "What about this one?"

His young companion takes the book gingerly, flipping it open to the first page, and his eyes skim hungrily over the page as he soaks in the words. "Perfect."

"I'm glad."

"Hey," the boy goes tense at the echo of the new voice, curling his arms around the book, holding it tightly against his chest. "You wanted to see me?"

He turns them around, curling his fingers tightly around the tense young shoulders when the boy backs up a step, pressing against him at their new guest. "Thanks for coming, Puriel."

The lightly toned man smiles at them, nodding in acknowledgement, he stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, with his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Nisroc smiles at him, squeezing the boys shoulders, Donavon averts his eyes from the new Power standing before them. "This is Donavon."

"Ah, the boy you've been telling me about?"

"The same. I thought it time for you two to meet."

"I see," the medic nods lightly at his words. "Why does he look like I'm about to strike him down?"

His Captain frowns lightly. "We have a bit of an issue with trusting others."

"Sure. Who was his guardian?"

"Theo."

It's the medic's turn to frown. "Well, that's horrible." He tilts his head. "Who's bright idea was it to give _him_ a fledgling to raise?"

Nisroc shrugs, his expression giving way that he'd like to know such information for himself, how did the bad ones always end up with lovable impressionable fledglings to care for, when they didn't have a single caring bone in their bodies. He'd thought long and hard on who to bring into the equation, who would be suitable enough to take up the care that the boy needed, and there was no one else that had come to mind, other then his brother.

He squeezes the tense shoulders again, they're as stiff as a board, and he tries to ease the tension away. "Donavon, this is Puriel." He nods at his brother. "Puriel, this is Donavon."

The medic smiles at him, trying to ease his nerves, he can see the strain he's in under all that tension. "Hello, Donavon, it's nice to meet you."

The boy just nods, a stiff jerk of his head, his embrace around the treasured book tightening.

He gestures to the book the boy holds. "I see you like to read, it's one of my favorite pastimes too, what do you like?"

"I like…Ad—Adventure books."

Puriel nods. "Those are the best, aren't they?" the boy nods and he smiles lightly. "I like adventure books too. Nis has a grand collection, but _not_ as grand as mine is, I can show you if you'd like."

Donavon seems unsure, looking down for a moment, adjusting his position slightly.

"You're so tense, too, I'm hurting just _looking_ at you."

He pushes away from the doorframe, slowly crossing the threshold to meet at his side. "Let me help you." The boy looks up at Nisroc, unsure, and the Captain nods slightly. "He knows what to do."

"C'mere, kiddo, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Donavon takes a cautious step forward and turns when the medic gestures for him to turn, ducking slightly when he curls his hands over his shoulders. "Right….about…... _here_." He digs his thumbs into the tense muscle and he can't stop himself from giving an involuntary groan of comfort, the tension slowly falling away as he works his fingers into the constricted muscles. "Does that feel good, Donavon?" the youth nods silently, stepping back slightly, leaning into the touch. "This would be so much better if you were laying down." He removes his hands, smiling at the soft whine the young boy gives, and tugs on his sleeve. "I think I'll take him from here, Nis, thanks for the introduction."

"Of course," Nisroc smiles as Donavon turns at the tug of his sleeve, letting his medic curl an arm around his shoulders. "Rest well, young Donavon."

They turn the corner and disappear from sight, and he turns back to continue working on his dreaded paperwork, not seeing the head poke around the doorframe. "So, you're not taking him in?"

"I never intended to, Paul." He knows who it is without looking. "I have my hands full enough keeping you two out of trouble." He flips through the file he has in hand. "Had you not been so moody about it, I would have told you, before assumptions had been made."

He doesn't look up, he doesn't have to, to know that his oldest charge has parted from the doorframe, turned into his office. He merely lifts his hand, knowing his approach despite not witnessing it, and lets him curl around his side, lowering his arm to rest his hand a top his head.

"Sorry I was so bad."

"Me too."

Paul mumbles into his side. "I just thought you were replacing us."

"I'd never replace you, my little one, I promised you that when I took in young Sasha." Nisroc tosses the file back on his desk in favor of curling his charge in his arms. "And, I do not break my promises."

His boy looks up at him. "You're not mad still, are you?"

The Captain smiles down at him, poking him in the side lightly, chuckling softly when he squirms around. "No, I'm not mad at you anymore." He smiles at the giggles that come to pass as he continues to poke him in the side. "Let's explore those giggles a bit more. I haven't heard them in so long." He bends slightly, curling his fingers around the younglings waist, and lifts him up to sit on the edge of his cleared desk, the only covering being the files laying across the surface. Paul smiles up at him, his mischievous troublemaking boy, and points a finger in his face. "No."

His guardian chuckles lowly, attacking his sides in a sudden assault, and the boy archs as he shrieks in surprise. "You don't command me to do _anything_." He pushes the boy backwards, into a laying position, stepping forward to stand between his leg, and digs his ten fingers into his belly. "Let's hear those giggles, little guy, let 'em out."

Smaller fingers curl around his. "Nihihihihis!"

"There they are."

Paul shrieks when he finds a particularly sensitive spot and gives it some special attention, kicking his feet up, bracing them against the edge of the desk, he tries to lifts himself away. His guardian meets his challenge though, reaching back, spidering his fingers over the underside of his thighs. He chuckles at the squeal his boy lets out, throwing his feet down, to keep him from getting to his thighs again.

"I can't believe you thought so little of me." Paul looks between his hands as he raises them, wiggling his fingers slowly, giggling in anticipation. "To think that I would so easily replace you." He shrieks in laughter when he runs his fingers up and down his sides. Arching his back again in ticklish agony. "You, my little mischievous, troublemaking fledgling."

"I'm nohohohot a flehehehedgling ahahhahanymohohore!"

"You are if I _say_ you are." He reaches forward, itching his fingers lightly against his neck, Paul shrieks brightly. He scrunches up his shoulders, high pitched giggles escaping him at the light tingly sensations, shaking his head this way and that trying to evade or dodge the fingers. It was an attempt made in vain. "You'll always be my little boy." He smiles at the bright, high pitched giggles. "Especially when you get all giggly like this."

The Captain pulls his hands back down again, digging back into his belly, spidering his fingers all over. Paul squeals again, twisting slightly, trying to curl up but failing. "Let's see how long I keep make those giggles last, shall I?"

"NOhohoho!"

"It was a rhetorical question." He tugs the boys tunic free from his belt, pulling up only slightly, and digs back into his bare belly. "I'm gonna do what I want." The Power pinches at his lower belly, Paul squeaks, squealing again when he digs back in, spidering all over his bare belly again. "And I want to do this."


	162. Just One More Minute (Donavon & Puriel)

He closed his book, a soft thump echoing in the silent room, and looks down at the boy laying next to him. "Time for bed, Avon."

"Just another minute," the boy licks his finger and turns the page. "I'm almost done with the chapter."

"No sir, I gave you another ' _minute'_ , thirty minutes ago." He reaches down and pokes him in the belly. "Close the book and get in bed."

"I'm going to, Puri." The boy doesn't so much as spare him a glance. "In a minute."

"Okay, _one_ more minute, so read fast."

The boy nodded, flipping the page again, and the Power counted down his bargained minute. It came and went. "Okay, that was your last minute, time for bed." He reaches over and lifts the book from his boy's hands, marking the page, and closed the book to set on top of his own on the small table next to him. He looks up at him, pouting lightly. "Awe, but Puri, it was just getting good!"

"And, it'll be just as good tomorrow."

"Why can't I just finish it now?" His boy reaches up to curl his fingers around his wrist. "I don't have training in the morning, it's the day of rest."

"Because you still need to get a good night's rest."

"I'm not even tired, though!"

Puriel smiles down at him, curling his own fingers around his thin wrist, pulling his arm up. "Let's fix that, then." And pokes a finger into his revealed underarm.

Donavon giggles, tugging at his arm, against the Power's unbreakable grip around his wrist. The elder wiggles his finger in his underarm and the youth's giggles grow in quantity. "How about now, are you tired now?"

Through his giggles, he manages a quick shake of his head, shrieking in surprise when the Power spiders his fingers down his side instead. "Okay, we'll keep trying." He lets go of his arm, leaning forward to fold his hand up under his tunic, fingers press into his bare belly. It shakes with giggles. "How about now?" He digs in sharply, the boy shrieks again, pressing his head back against the mattress underneath him, arching his back at the sensation. "Nohohoho!"

"Shame." The tone in which it's said gives way to the notion that he is not anything less them amused in his admittance. Puriel catches one of his kicking feet, curling his fingers around his ankle, he pulls the foot up closer. Donavon turns with the tugging on his foot, sprawled out facing the end of the bed, his arm laying limply over the Power's crossed ankles. "How about these little feet?" He strokes a finger down the length of his sole and he gives a bright peal of laughter, ten fingers dig in and he arches his back again, tugging desperately at his foot, especially with fingers poke at his toes. "My feheheheet ahahahare nohohot lihihihittle!"

"No," the Power scratches a finger over the arch of his foot, and he jerks, laughing brightly at the sensation. "You don't call this a little foot?" He leans forward to run his fingers over the underside of his knee, Donavon shrieks again and tries to twist his leg away, it doesn't get very far. "It's teeny tiny."

Later, he would claim it was from desperation, when he turned onto his side and dug his own fingers into one of the Power's feet next to him. Puriel yelps, yanking his feet back, and his fingers tighten around his ankle. "You did _not_." Donavon screams in laughter when he presses his lips to his foot, pressing a kiss to the middle of his foot, the stubble of his light beard making him squeal in laughter. "It's a good thing you took a bath before bed, or this would have been gross." He takes a deep breath and blows a raspberry against his sole, Donavon squeals again, twisting over onto his side. Puriel slowly lowers his own feet back down to rest at the end of the bed, crossing at the ankles, and he curls his fingers around his ankle as a means of bracing himself when he hears him take another breath, just before another raspberry is blown into his sole.

"This is a good position, for me, perhaps not for you." He curls one of his legs over his shoulders, pulling him down to rest on his stomach, and leans forward again. There's no giggles, no bright peals of laughter, Donavon just squeals brightly, and then he breaks into uproarious peals of laughter, as he digs into the meat of his thigh. Spidering the fingers of his right hand over the sensitive skin that rests on the underside of his thigh, before dipping them inwards, pinching at the inner thigh lightly. "How about now, Avon, are you sleepy yet?"

He nods, oh how he nods, squealing brightly and kicking out, arms wrapped tightly around the Power's other ankle. "Yehehehehehehes! I'm—I'm sleheheheheepy!"

"Will you be a good little angel, and go to bed like I told you to?"

"Yeheheheheesss!"

Chuckling, the medic of the Powers pulls his leg away, releasing the youth from his imprisonment, and crosses his ankles again. Donavon giggles breathlessly still, curling up on himself, pulling his legs up and away from his reach. Leaning forward, Puriel rubs a hand over the side of his head, tugging lightly at the ends of his hair. "Come on, turn around, we'll get some sleep now."

Slowly, carefully, his little warrior turns, crawling up to lay against him on his bed. Donavon's got his own next to his, but he's not a mean one, he'll let him curl up and sleep here after such a brutal attack. He giggles lightly still, against his side, and he strokes his fingers through his hair. "Maybe next time, you'll just do as I say, and go to bed."

"That was fun!"

"I'm glad you had fun." He settles down next to him, raising his arm, allowing to boy to settle closer. His head resting in the crook of his shoulder, fingers curling lightly into the tunic over his chest, Donavon settles down comfortably. "What are we doing tomorrow, Avon?"

"Can we go see the Rain Forest?"

"Sure, we can do that."


	163. Here To Care For You (Oren & Inca)

"Hey, Oren, I think you should see this."

His Captain looks up from the file he's reading at the call of his name, closing the folder, he sets it on the desktop at the beckoning for his attention. He comes to stand next to his brother, Ephraim holds the file out to him, and he takes it with confusion. "See what?"

"Read the margin."

He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to read the slanted writing, it's distinct, light on the parchment. It's curly and neat. He knows immediately who this writing belongs to, and he glances up over the edge to his brothers young charge, her and his own circle around each other closely.

Sighing, Oren returns his gaze to the file he holds, eyes skimming over the words written there.

**Are you okay?**

He knows who responds to the inquiry.

**_Do you think you can get me something from Zed's inventory?_ **

An eyebrow raises in curiosity.

**I can try. What do you need?**

**_Something for an upset stomach._ **

**Why don't you tell Oren if you don't feel well? He'd take care of you. Akriel takes care of us when we don't feel well.**

**_He's already given me somewhere to sleep, I don't want to be a burden, he already handles so much because I can't talk._ **

He'd read enough, closing the file quickly, he thrusts it out for his brother. Ephraim takes it back, folding it up against his chest, eyeing his brother curiously. "Are you going to be unavailable for the evening?"

"Yes, something has come up, cover for me."

"I'll let Z know." Ephraim nods. "He'll make a few things for you guys."

"Thank you." Oren turns on his heel, crossing his arms lightly, crossing the threshold to intercede his charge as he carries an arm full of blankets to the beds him and his friend were making up. "Inca, can I have a word with you?"

The boy drops the blankets in surprise at his sudden appearance, and he looks down at them with raised eyebrows, if the boy had something to hide, his nervousness was giving him away in a heartbeat.

"How do you feel?" He tilts his head slightly. "You look rather flushed."

He turns quickly to his friend, she's trying to hide in herself, ducking down slightly. Orion glances up and meets his eyes, nodding quickly, she sets her things down and comes to stand at his side. They both look nervous, as if they're up to something, as if they know they're doing something wrong. "He's fine….Just been moving around a lot today."

"Right." Oren turns to her. "And how does Akriel feel about lying?"

She looks down. "He doesn't like it."

"If you want to have our talk here, that's fine, we can have it here." He reaches out to press the back of his hand to his boy's forehead, then to his cheeks, frowning at the heat. "How long have you been feeling bad?"

His hands shake as he raises them. _'Since yesterday.'_

"You've been feeling this way since yesterday," the older healer frowns lightly and withdraws his hand. "And you never said anything."

_'I didn't want to be too much trouble.'_

"You could never be too much trouble." Oren nods at Orion. "I won't tell Akriel. I know you were merely looking out for your friend." And he draws his arm around the young healers shoulders. "We are getting you back in bed."

Inca curls his arm around his back, fingers curling into his tunic, following as Oren turned them around for the direction of the stairs that led to the Loft above their heads. They stop by Zed's station on their way, collecting a handful of small vials, the apothecary gives him a stern look when he learns that is was him who had stolen from his inventory, but can't very well be that angry at the small healer with reddened cheeks. "Get some rest, kiddo."

"Oh, he'll get plenty of it." Oren reassured him, rubbing at his arm lightly as they turned back on their way. Taking the stairs silently, they slowly appeared in the lounge, everyone being below left it empty and silent. His guardian leads him through the empty lounge, passed the wooden table and cooking area, down the hall to where their room lays.

They turn inside.

"Alright, kick off your boots, get yourself ready for bed."

Inca nods, doing as he's told, kicking off his boots beside his bed, he shimmies out from his trousers and climbs under the blankets that have been folded back for him. He unashamedly snuggles down against his pillows, under his blankets, and Oren smiles at him as he sits on the edge of the bed.

He brushes dark bangs from his eyes. "Tell me what hurts."

_'My belly hurts.'_ He falls still. _'And my throat.'_

His guardian smiles at him. _'I got just what you need.'_

Picking two blue vials from the lot, he pops the tops off, and passes them over one by one. Watching attentively, he ensures that the little healer downs them both, and tucks the blanket up under his chin when he passes the second empty vial to him. "Get some sleep, little guy."

_'Will you lay down with me?'_

Chuckling, the Virtue nods. _'Scoot over.'_

Inca smiles, scooting over just a tad, the elder slides in next to him. Oren leans back against the pillows, lifting his arm for him, and the shy little angel scoots closer, ducking under his arm and curls in closer. He curls his arm around him, pulling close against his side, and rubs at his arm lightly.

"Now," he kisses the side of his feverish forehead. "You get some sleep."

_'Okay Ori.'_

He catches his hand before it can fall back down, pressing the palm to his lips. "No more talking, you little chatter box, close those eyes."

Inca smiles, nuzzling down, and closes his eyes as he's surrounded by the warm familiar air that is Oren.


	164. Hiding From The Medic (Donavon & Puriel)

"You're not going to training today." He shakes his head, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, he raises his left hand and twirls his finger around. "You turn you're little self around and get back in bed."

"But I'm fine!"

He sniffles though, rubbing at his nose with the back of his sleeve, trying not to look as miserable as he felt.

"I'm not even sick!"

"I don't think so. I may be a Power now, but I was raised as a healer, I can see everything I need to know you are, in fact, sick." He twirls his finger again. "Turn, mister, let's go."

The boy groans, sighing deeply, he throws his arms out and turns on his heel. Behind him, his guardian follows, as if only to make sure that he makes his way back to their shared room. He expects to be put to bed, tucked in nice and snug, and for the Power to take his leave to return to training. They've grown rather close, but he doesn't think they're that close, he's still a _Power_ after all. He has a squadron to be training. He doesn't have time to take care of a sick youngling.

They enter their room in silence, and fingers curl around the leather vest he wears. "Come on, shrug it off." He does as he's told in silence, mentally preparing himself for an afternoon alone. "And your boots. Kick 'em off." Donavon does as he's told, kicking his boots off, pushing them to the edge of his wardrobe with his feet. Puriel rubs at his shoulders, he feels him lean forward, his curls brush against his cheek. "Let's get you into bed."

He nods, letting himself be led forward, watching as the Power leans around him to pull his blankets down and guides him down into bed. He tucks the blankets up under his chin and sits on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, turning to look at him fondly. "If you aren't well, I need to know, so I can make you feel better again."

"Because I need to train?"

"Because I _care_ for you." He strokes his hair back. "I don't like seeing you feeling badly."

He looks down to his hands. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's alright, this is still new for you, surely your _old_ guardian wasn't so caring." Donavon shakes his head, looking up when the medic strokes the back of his fingers over his cheek. "But _I_ happen to adore you, so when you feel bad, I will care for you until you feel well again."

"You're not going to leave me?"

Puriel shakes his head, giving him a soft smile. "Not for anything less them a sudden ambush." Brushing his fingers through his hair. "I'm all yours." Donavon smiles slightly, finally letting the cough he's been struggling to hold back free, it rocks his chest. His guardian winks in amusement. "There's that ' _nonexistent'_ cough."

"I don't feel good, Puri."

He presses his hand over his forehead, curling his fingers with the curve, nodding in agreement. "I know you don't." He frowns lightly at the warmth under his fingers. "Tell me what hurts, so I can help."

Donavon curls his fingers around the Power's hand, pulling it down to press against his chest, curling around it slightly. "My belly hurts, Puri."

"Is that it?"

He shakes his head. "My throat hurts too. And my head."

His new guardian nods. "You've got a bit of a fever there, as well, and that small cough." The medic scratches the fingers of his captive hand against his youngling's congested chest. "Let me gather a few things, I'll be right back, okay Avon?"

The boy nods, letting go of his hand, and watches him from his pillow as his Power crosses to the cabinet above his desk and rummages through the vials he keeps in there. Cures and tonics for just about everything, his inventory was always stocked, he never ran out, that's what becomes from being good friends with two apothecaries.

Three vials, that's how many he grabs, and he closes the cabinet door as he turns to head back to his side. He sits on the edge of the bed once more, uncapping the vials, he passes them over. "Every drop, Avon, they'll help." His boy nods, taking the vials as he's passing them over, downing them in one gulp lest he actually have to taste them. "Good boy, very good." Puriel sets the empty vials on the small table that sits between their beds, stroking a finger down his nose. "Do you want me to read to you until you fall asleep?"

Donavon nods sleepily. "Yes, please."

He reaches for the book laying on the small table, nudging the youngling over, kicking his own boots off as he stretches out next to him. Donavon snuggles close, curling under his arm, his head cushioned on his chest. He curls his arm around him comfortingly and opens the book where they had left off the night before, kissing the top of his head once. "Ready?"

The young warrior in training rubs at his nose and nods lazily. "Promise you'll stay if I fall asleep?"

"I won't even read ahead."

Donavon smiles, nuzzling in closer, feeling lips press to his temple. "You better not, Puri."

"I promise I won't."


	165. I Will Never Tap Out (Nisroc, Paul, & Sasha)

"This is the training field, obviously, we meet here every morning at 0600. You have Wednesday's and Friday's to yourself, and the day of rest, obviously. Any quest— _Oomph."_

The fabled Captain of the Powers stumbled forward at the sudden impact from behind, and the newest recruits all jumped back in horror as he struggled to maintain his upright position, a laughing youngling had jumped on his back. He wrapped his arms around his neck, his legs around his waist, pulling him backwards, as at the same moment, another rams into his legs, and it brings him to the ground.

It's horrifying, in the newest recruits eyes, that there would be some as daring as to bring the Captain to his knees.

But the Captain is in on the excitement, laughing softly as he struggles to pull the arms off from around his neck, the youngling tightens his grip. "Tap out!" He pulls sharply. "Tap out, Nis!"

"I will never tap out for you." When it becomes evident that he's not going to manage in pulling the arms from around his neck, he reaches back, bending forward slightly, and curls his fingers under the youngling's arms. The youth lets out a surprised shriek when the Power yanks him forward, flipping him over his head, off his back, and to the ground underneath him. "You try and try and never seem to succeed."

They watch completely mystified as the Power smiles down at him, when he sticks his tongue out at the Captain looming above him, and his eyebrows raise at the cheekiness. "Oh, we're going to be cheeky now, are we?" He digs his fingers into his belly, it's a sudden action, and the youngling shrieks brightly, arching his back. "This is what you get."

"Nihihihihis!"

He smiles down at him endearingly. "Yes, Paul?"

"Nohohohoho!"

"You should have known this was coming," he tugs at the youngling's tunic and young Paul's hands clamber to keep him from tugging it free. "This happens _every_ time you try to get me to tap out." He manages to tug his tunic free despite the slight inhibition from the younger angel under him, pulls it up only slightly, and spiders ten fingers over his bare belly.

Any possible embarrassment from the position he finds himself in is drowned out by the ticklish agony he now faces. He could never stand it when Nisroc went after his belly, he was ruthless, especially when he was teaching a lesson. Paul screams in laughter, arching his back, squirming under him in an attempt to break free from his torture.

"Here." They all look up at the arrival of the other Power, Titus smiles to the newest recruits kindly, a youngling struggling over his shoulder. "Someone was trying to escape their comeuppance." The Captain thanks him, leaning to the side for him to lean forward and pull the squirming, struggling, youngling from over his shoulder to lay next to his brother in the dirt. "Thank you, Tus." The other youngling squeals brightly, his face burning a red hue at the others there to witness it, when he digs his fingers sharply into his inner thigh.

The other Power chuckles, shaking his head lightly. "I'll take over your tour. Teach 'em good."

He gestures for the class to follow him as he turns, and they all stare at the three of them as they step passed them, following after him quickly.

One builds up the courage to tap him on the arm as he leads them across the field. "Yes, little one?"

"W—Who are they?"

"Oh," he peered over his shoulder at the three of them, exchanging words that went unheard by distance, the relationship they shared was an endearing one. "They're Paul and Sashael, he goes by Sasha, they're his charges." He sighs, shaking his head. "They try this at least once a month."

Titus turns to address the others. "Let that be a lesson though. He doesn't bow to anyone. If you try to take him down, make sure you succeed, or you'll find the same end as they did."


	166. Waking Up Alone (Hasmal, Nisroc, & Puriel)

He was alone.

He woke up alone.

There was no one else.

He was all alone again.

Steam slowly began to rise from his fingers, he looked down at them with wide eyes, the blanket singed when he grabbed it to throw off his legs. He stumbled out of bed, the tranquilizing tonic starting to wear off. There was a chair next to his bed, the one he'd been placed in after taking the strong tonic, a book sitting on the edge of the table next to it.

The chair was empty.

He stumbled across the room drunkenly, leaning against the doorframe to peer down the hall, leaving charred hand prints around the wooden frame.

There was no one in the hall.

Pushing himself away from the door frame, he dragged his hand against the stone wall as he made his way down the hall to the lounge, he was warm, there was that, it wasn't cold. Not yet. He stumbled to stand in front of the large windows that overlooked the training field, eyes roaming over the moving bodies for those who could help, he was getting warmer and warmer and he couldn't stop it. He needed someone to stop it. His eyes met those of who could help, he stared at the back of their head, and then his focus changed, and he stared into the glowing orange circles that were his eyes.

Stepping away from the window, he trudges his way to the steps that leads down to the training field, his head is swimming, but all he can focus on is that he's alone and he doesn't like being alone. He stumbles out onto the training field, nearly falling to his knees, startling the recruits nearest him. He stares at his target, his safe haven, the one that always makes sure he knows he's not alone.

Someone tugs on their arm, gesturing to the one stumbling forward behind them, and they turn to peer over their shoulder. Familiar blue eyes widen, and he turns quickly, rushing forward to catch him.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, I've got you."

He grips at the sleeves of his tunic tightly, steam rising from his fingers, a hand curls around the left side of his face.

"Let's calm down, take a deep breath," he chokes. "You can do it, take a deep breath for me 'Mal."

He stutters a deep breath, holding it like he's instructed, and lets it go.

"There's a good angel, that's it, lets relax, take another breath."

The steam slowly comes to a stop, fading off, and his shoulders fall as the tensions slowly rolls away. He's pulled inward, arms wrap around him securely, around his lower back, and he leans against them. Fingers curling into their tunic, breathing in deeply, he presses his ear to their chest to find their heart beat.

"What happened, 'Mal, tell big brother what happened?"

"I..I was alone….there was no one…I was….Nis?"

"I'm here, baby brother, you found me." The arms around his lower back tighten and a bearded chin rubs against the side of his forehead. "I've got you."

Hasmal feels him nod over his head, fingers rubbing at his lower back gently, and his older brother keeps him tucked against his side as he slowly turns them back in the direction of the Pavilion, hushing any whispers with a sharp look. Hasmal keeps his head tucked away, not wanting to see them staring, his steps becoming lighter. "Is it a bad day, today?" He nods against his older brothers neck and a hand rubs up his arm tenderly. "Lets get you back in bed."

Puriel was meant to be watching him, but with a sick boy in his own room, there was no blame to be shared with him leaving their volatile brother for a brief moment to check up on his own charge. And seeing as to how the tonic they'd give him on his bad days was wearing off, he'd say, he had also gone to fetch a refill.

They find their medic standing frantically in the empty room, a vial in one hand, and the other pressed to his head in worry.

"Puri, I've got him."

He spins around. "Oh, thank Father, I was so worried." He crosses to their side quickly, helping guide their unstable brother back to the bed, he's getting better every day, but he still has more bad days then good. "I'm sorry I left him, I went to get more of his tonic, and to check on Avon, and I—"

"It's alright, Puri," his Captain squeezes his arm lightly as they guide their baby brother into laying in the bed again, pulling the blankets up over him. "How is your boy doing?"

Puriel pulls the stopper off the vial and holds his baby brothers head up gently as he presses it to his lips, watching as he downs the tonic slowly, his eyes fluttering softly as the effect takes hold quickly. Stroking his forehead, his hair back, he watches as his breathing evens out. "He's getting better. He caught quite a nasty bug."

Nisroc nods, Paul had caught the same bug going around just weeks previous, he knew what it was like. Sasha hadn't caught it just yet, but he'd been sniffling for the better part of the week, so he was preparing for it.

"You can bring him here if you'd like, you don't have to keep going between both rooms."

The medic looks up at him. "Really?"

"Sure, I have two beds. The boy can have the other one for today."

"You're a good brother, Nis." He touches his arm lightly. "Thank you." Nodding towards their sleeping baby brother. "Stay with him for a moment?"

"Of course."

The younger Power jogs from the room again, he hears him enter his own room down the hall, words are exchanged, and he appears again with his boy cradled in his arms. Donavon smiles up at him sleepily, a gesture he returns in kind, as they pass by him. He watches the young boy curl up as he's laid in the other bed, tucked in tenderly, his brother smiles down at the young one, leaning in to press his lips to his temple. He made the right decision bringing those two together. Puriel was so good for Donavon.

Nisroc nods as his brother takes up his seat again, kicking his feet up to cross lightly on the edge of the bed, and he reaches for his book, and knowing that they're going to be taken care of, he turns to head back to the field below.

He knows both are in good hands.


	167. A Brilliant Young Mind (Zed & Araton)

"What are you doing here, all on your own?"

She looks up from her book at the sound of his voice, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she blushes and looks back down. "Reading."

The elder leans against the table she sits at, all on her lonesome. "I can see that, why not join the others?"

She sighs deeply, fingering the corner of the page she had been reading through. "They don't like me. They say I'm weird. They all leave when I try to join their groups." She looks back up at them though, smiling slightly, a shy little thing. "It's okay though. I like being on my own."

"You do?"

"Sure, when your own your own, you can be yourself." She presses her hand to the center of the page, looking passed them at the group nearest, averting her eyes when their eyes make contact as they spy over and whisper among each other. "And no one will judge you for it."

"They judge you for being yourself?"

She nods. "But it's okay. I deserve it. I think."

"What's your name, little one?"

She blinks up at him in surprise, no one's ever asked for her name before, they all shun her from their groups. "Ara—Araton."

"Hello, Araton, I'm Zed." He holds a hand out for her to shake, and she looks down at it silently, reaching one of her own out cautiously. Her hand is so small compared to his, petite, as he curls his fingers around it. He gestures to the bench across from her. "May I join you?"

Hesitantly, though more so from awe, the young lady nods her head, eyes wide in surprise.

He smiles at her, recognizing a work journal when he sees one, he has his own, obviously. "May I see?" Araton looks down at her notes, the pictures she's drawn, all her research. She takes a small breath and nods, turning the journal around, pushing out for him to take. "Sure."

The apothecary thanks her softly, turning the small journal around, he reads over the delicate notes. He runs his fingers over the soft sketches, nodding as her reads over the notes sprawled in the margins, across the spine of the pages. "This is very good." He flips the page. "You have an interest in the herbs and fauna, and what their purposes are." He looks up to see her nod shyly in affirmation. "I think it's amazing, how something so small can make the biggest of impacts, it's so interesting."

"I was the same way." He flips another page, and she watches him flip through her journal with great interest, a slight blush creeping to her features at his admission. "I was always experimenting when I was younger." Zed smiles up at her in amusement. "I can't tell you how much trouble I got into because of my experiments." He strokes his fingers over the petals of a flower pasted on the page he's flipped to. "Did you know, I used to make tonics in my dorm, and then I'd sneak them into my classes drinks and food. Oh, the trouble I'd get into."

The apothecary of the Virtues turns the journal around, pushing back across the table for her, nodding to her work certainly impressed by her knowledge. "That is very good, Araton, you know far more then I did at your age."

She takes her journal back, flipping it closed slightly, slipping the knot through the keeper as she bound it closed. "But what good is it. There's only ever one apothecary. I should be focusing on what everyone else is focusing on."

The Virtue hums thoughtfully, peering over his shoulder to the whispering group behind them when her eyes flash back over to them minutely, she thinks he can't see her doing it, he's noticed every single time. "Is that why they say your weird?"

Araton nods shyly, looking down to her book again. "They say I'm not normal. I can't help it. It's just so fascinating to me."

"Being normal is overrated." She looks up at him, and he smiles at her, waving his fingers in dismissal of the notion. "Why would you ever want to be _'normal'_? What does that word even mean? What is the definition of _'normal'_?" He leans closer, resting his elbows on the table between them, and she looks up at him in silent curiosity. "When I was as young as you, I was considered ' _abnormal'_ too, shunned just as you are." He looks at his brothers situated around the room. "And then I met the ones who would care about me the most. Who stood by me no matter what others thought. Someone took notice of my interest, they gave me a place to belong, helped me take hold of my interest and excel with it."

"You made friends?"

He shakes his head lightly. "I found my _brothers_."

"But no one wants to be my friend." She averts her eyes again, her voice small, smaller then he's ever heard before. "No one wants me to be in their family."

Zed hums again, leaning back slightly, looking her over carefully, and feeling self-conscious, she averts her eyes. "That's hardly the truth." He nods to himself, as if asserting something to himself, and stands from his bench _._ He gestures for her to follow, and she stands quickly, stumbling out from over the bench, scooping her book and pencils up in quick succession. He watches her carefully, as she wraps her arms around her treasures, and gestures for her to follow as he turns.

They both ignore the whispering from the others as they pass them, but he spies her shrinking from the corner of his eye and turns a sharp look in their direction to bring them to silence. "Talking poorly about another is not tolerated in these walls, do you understand?" They nodded shyly, red in the cheeks, embarrassed at being chastised by a Virtue, of all healers who could come to chastise them. The apothecary curls his arm around Araton's thin shoulders, and turns away from the young healers, their whispering drawn into silence.

The Healer looks up as they approach, smiling in greeting to the both of them, his hand slowly lowering as his writing comes to a sudden unexpected stop. "Hello, Zed, Araton." He looks between them both curiously. "What can I do for you?" An eyebrow raises at the way the young girl's eyes widen, seemingly from the notion that he knows her name, he knows all of his healers names. The Virtue squeezes her shoulder lightly. "Show him."

"Show me what?" He looks down to the young healer curiously, she gulps deeply, slowly unwinding her arms from the leather journal she hugs to her chest and holds it out for the Healer to take. He takes the journal carefully. "What's this?" Slipping the knot out from the keeper, he opens to a random page, eyes skimming over the delicately written notes. "This is truly well done." He rubs his fingers over the intricately drawn examples.

The Healer looks up at her and she looks down slightly, her head tilted downwards, though her eyes meet his. "You did this all on your own?" She nods cautiously, silently, and fingers rub at her shoulder. "Apparently, it's _'weird'_." Zed sounds slightly miffed.

Raphael looks up at him coolly, though a hint of interest in his eyes. " _'Weird'_ you say?" He holds the journal back out to it's owner. "I don't see what's so odd in having an interest, especially one such as this." He looks back over to the young healer. "Do the others in your class call you that?"

Araton nods shyly and he hums in disapproval. "Zed this is becoming unacceptable. I want to have a word with this class."

"I would say someone should."

He eyes his Virtue curiously. "Speak your request, Zed, what brings you to me, with young Araton at your side."

Zed nods slightly, his fingers tightening around her shoulder, and she looks down to her feet shyly at all the attention that's suddenly being shown to her. And by a Virtue _and_ their Archangel, no less. "I haven't taken someone under my wing for a number of eons."

"No, you haven't." The Healer nods in agreement. "What does that fact have to play in this?"

"I want to take her."

Araton looks up at him, her head whipping around, eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected request.

The Healer smiles. "Granted." He looks between them both with interest. "I take it you want to teach her your craft."

"You would be correct."

"Also granted. You've picked the right one." The Archangel smiles at her kindly. "You both can be _'odd'_ together."

Zed snorts. "I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me all week." He jumps back, pulling Araton back with him, laughing lightly when the Healer snatches out for him. "Let me show you _'nice'_."

"Come along, Araton."

He turns quickly, tugging her forward, until their far enough away from the Healer that they only thing that manages to reach them is his fond chuckles. He guides her across the threshold, passing between healers, under the shocked eyes of her class, they come to stand at his work station.

Two large tables, jars and vials cluttered around, herbs and flowers and fauna litters the table tops. The cauldron behind them always warm, the embers always glowing a faint orange, ready for the flames to be stoked and the concoction boiled together.

"We'll set you up a workstation here." He stands before the second table and begins clearing it up. "This'll be yours."

She watches him wide eyes, her head turning ever so slightly with every move he makes. "W-W-What did you mean by taking me under your wing?"

Zed looks back at her, smiling kindly. "The others in your class may not see how brilliant you really are, but I can." He nods at her, gesturing for her to step up to the table as he clears it for her. "If they won't let you be apart of their family, then you will be a part of mine." He nods assertively. "No one deserves to be alone."


	168. I'll Be There For You (Araton)

The scene was not one that they've seen before, it's new, as new as the ones they've taken into their tightly knit family, and they come to surround them and the poor soul they've decided to team up against.

A girl sits between them all, sitting sprawled on the floor, a bruise forming over her right cheek bone, and complete soaked to the bone.

Araton's crying softly into her arms, curled around a torn object protectively, thin shoulders heaving with her near silent sobs.

Beside her, Orion stands protectively, fingers clenched into tight fists and a fire burning in her eyes that they've only ever seen on a number of occasions. Gzel stands next to her, chest heaving for a breath, eyes sharp, and fists clenched tightly, muscles tense as though she's ready to strike out again.

Inca stands on Araton's other side, a bucket, that was once filled with cool water for the apothecary, now empty, grasped in his hands.

"What on _earth_ is going on here?" Oren's the first one to make it to their side, coming to stand between Araton and Inca, eyeing the young healer sitting before them carefully, kneeling to get a better look at her split cheek. "Did you all attack her?"

"Araton, what's wrong?" Zed joins them next, coming to his young apprentice's side, his hand pressing between her shoulder blades. She sucks in a deep breath, turning into him silently, her shoulders rocking as she cries into his chest. He rubs at her back soothingly. "What happened?"

"Gzel, did you attack her?" Akriel comes to stand between his two girls, holding a cloth out for his brother to dab at the bleeding cut on her cheek, Oren thanks him and does as he intended to with the cloth.

The unstable angel nods, unashamedly, and raises her fist again. "She _deserved_ it." Akriel heaves a sigh, patient as ever, it's rather difficult to rile his feathers. "Gzel, we've talked about this—" Orion touches a gentle hand to his arm, and he turns to look down at her, she shakes her head softly. "Ak, she tore apart her book." He scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion. "What?"

Orion points at the item Araton holds to her chest as tightly as she can manage. "She broke it. Gzel punched her because she was being mean to Ara. She tore her book, Ak."

The apothecary looks down to his little kitten, rubbing her back softly. "Is it true, kitten, let me see your book?" She inhales deeply, shakily, and slowly uncurls her arms from her treasured possession. It's in tatters, the pages dripping and torn, ink smeared from the soaking, the cover torn deeply. Araton looks up at him with the most broken of glances. "It's..It's ruined, Z…All my work….All that time…It's _ruined_." Another sob tears from her throat and he takes the book from her, pulling her back in, this time she clutches at his tunic as she curls close to him.

"Here." Constantine kneels next to Oren, dabbing the cut with some disinfectant, and curling a bandage strip around it to seal it. His Captain nods in appreciation and stands, turning to his own charge, Inca meets his gaze head on, refusing to back down in submission to the knowledge that he had done wrong, even if it was with the best of intentions. "Did you dump the water on her?"

"She came in really hot." He pulls the empty bucket closer. "I thought she needed to calm down."

Oren raises an eyebrow. "You thought she needed to cool down?"

Ephraim snorts, he'd flinched when he'd come to stand between Orion and Araton, the emotions coming from the distraught girl too much for him to handle and moved to stand at Akriel's side instead. "Good job, then."

"What is going on over here?"

They all turn to look at the new companion, the Archangel looks between them all with equal parts sternness and curiosity, he takes one look at Gzel's clenched fists and the young healers split cheek, and orders them all to his office.

Raphael sits behind his desk, looking between them all expectantly, he expects more from those he takes into his flock and such behavior against another one of their flock mates is not tolerated in any degree. Gzel's defiant, refusing to apologize, in the wake of his firm scolding.

"Oren, explain their behavior."

His Captain nods, gesturing to his apothecary and his small apprentice, she had yet to face him. Curled tight against her master and guardian, sniffling softly against his chest, it was the only sound she made. He turns his gaze to the other Virtue, and Zed nods, leaning forward to deposit the ruined journal on his desk.

The Archangel falls silent, reaching for the book, young Araton's most treasured possession. Her young life's work, the time she had spent meticulously working on it, the entire thing was completely ruined. He understood their anger now, undoubtedly at the one who had done such a crime, and he turned his attention to the soaked healer before him. "Ansiel, did you do this?"

She averts her eyes, nodding stiffly, and he hums deeply. "I am deeply disappointed, Ansiel, this type of behavior is unbecoming for a healer. We are meant to aid, not hinder, this is highly unacceptable." He sets the book down, turning in his chair silently, he stands for the shelf next to him, fishing out another book. The Healer holds the book out to his apothecary, knowing that his young charge was too distraught to let go and turn for it, Zed takes it into hand silently. "It is no replacement for the work lost in this poor choice of judgement, but a new journal is in order, you must keep up with the inventory, but you both are welcome to do what you must to rediscover what has been lost."

He turns to Gzel. "Next time, young lady, you _tell_ someone." He points a stern finger at her. "You do _not_ punch them."

She nods stiffly. "Sorry, big brother."

"I know you are, little one."

The Healer turns to his Captain's young charge. "As for you, young man, don't you waste perfectly good water in such a manner again."

"Okay."

He smiles at Orion, he can't very well scold her, she hadn't done anything.

Then he turns to their victim. "As for you, Ansiel, you are grounded to your dorm. You will come out for lessons, and then once they're completed, you will head right back for your dorm. Do I make myself clear?"

Ansiel sniffles softly at the scolding. "For how long?"

He hums thoughtfully, his gaze turning back to the broken little apprentice curled in her master's arms, as he whispers reassurances down at her, rubbing her back soothingly.

"For however long it takes her to gain back what you so cruelly destroyed."

"But—But that could take ages!"

He dips his chin, looking upon her firmly, and she hushes instantly as she averts her eyes. "Perhaps you should have thought of the _consequences_ before you acted upon your poorly made decision." He nods to the door. "Go, young lady."

Ansiel sniffles miserably and turns, doing as she's told, and makes for her room.

The archangel turns to the little apothecary in training, reaching out to rub her shoulders lightly, she peeks out at from the privacy of her guardian's chest. "Little Ara, I am so sorry for what's happened, we will go through your book and salvage whatever we can."

"It's—It's ruined!"

He shakes his head lightly. "I know it seems like it, but you will find new things, discover things you've never seen before. It's not the most desirable of situations. But we will do everything we can to help you." He nods to his bookcase. "You are more than welcome to any of my journals, should need them, and I'm quite sure Zed would allow you to use his own."

"I would."

Araton sniffles softly, curling closer to her guardian, but gives him the smallest of smiles in return.

"We'll help you too."

She turns to look at the others. Gzel and Orion smile at her, Inca does too, and she returns their kind gesture.

"That's what family does."


	169. The Smallest Of Giggles (Zed & Araton)

"Excuse me, little one." His fingers curl around her upper waist as he pulls her aside slightly so he can walk around her, and she giggles lightly, it brings him to a grinding halt. Whatever it was he was intending to do fell away to the soft tingling sound, he looks down at her, and she stares ahead at her work bench. "Did the shy little thing that I've taken as my own just do what I think she just did?" He squeezes her upper waist again, it gains him the same reaction, and she jolts slightly in accordance. "Oh, our Father, you did."

She smiles to herself as he spins her around, she's so small, that he hooks his hands under her arms and heft her off her feet. Instinctively, she curls her legs around his waist, and he crosses his arms under her. They share a smile, his is fond and amused, hers is small and shy, she's such a shy little thing, his little apprentice.

He leans in close, pressing his forehead against hers, and their eyes meet. "Did you just _giggle_?" He whispers for only her to hear. She smiles again, nodding slightly, and it makes him beam in joy to know that he made his beloved shy little apprentice giggle so adorably. "You _did_?" She nods again and he smiles, leaning forward to kiss her nose lightly, it makes her giggle softly once more. "You're absolutely adorable, my little apprentice." She blushes lightly and averts her eyes. "It's a sweet little giggle. Can I hear it again?" She refuses to meet his eyes, so he leans in and kisses her nose again, she giggles softly, and her eyes lift to his. "I love it. It's so cute."

Someone clears their throat, and he turns to see who has interrupted them, his brother smiles at him knowingly. "Yes, Constantine?" Little Araton blushes and ducks to hide against his shoulder, trying to shrink away from any prying eyes, her shyness is endearing. "Sorry to interrupt, it was rather heartwarming—" he narrows his eyes slightly. "Out with it _little_ brother." The younger Virtue nods lightly. "Did you finish the ointment I needed?"

Zed nods to the jar on the work bench, the other Virtue nods, smiling in appreciation, and reaches forward to take it from them.

With their privacy returned, he turns back to his little charge, she's still hiding in his shoulder. He brushes his nose against her neck, goose pimples form over the soft skin, and he presses his lips to a spot under her ear. She giggles softly against his shoulder. "Let's go upstairs. I want to hear more of that soft little giggle."

He carries her out from behind their work benches, away from their work station, and through the threshold of the Infirmary back to the stone steps that lead up to their home above. He closes the door to their room with his foot, nudging her neck with his nose lightly, urging her to come out of her hiding place against his shoulder. "You can come on out, we back in our room, no prying eyes can see you."

Araton nods against his shoulder, sitting back up, leaning back in his hold. He smiles up at her adoringly, bouncing her lightly, and she curls her fingers into his shoulders. "I repeat myself, you're absolutely adorable, I don't regret snatching you up at first sight." She smiles at him, a soft small smile, and it melts his heart to goo. "And, you're all mine." The Virtue leans forward, kissing her nose again, basking in the giggles it produces. "I'm sharing those precious little giggles with anyone else." He walks forward, one of his hands coming up to cradle the back of her head, as he leans over and lays her down on his bed. "They're all mine."

She looks up at him with shining hazel eyes. "Thank you for taking me even though I'm weird."

"You're the farthest thing from being _'weird'_." He holds himself up with his hands, placed on either side of her head, she gazes up at him with a happiness shining in her eyes that only he has the privilege of seeing. "You're loving, kind, brilliant, and adorable." The elder apothecary shakes his head lightly. "But, most certainly not _'weird'_. They're all idiots who can't see what's right in front of them. I saw." He leans down to kiss her forehead lightly. "I saw and I snatched you right up."

He presses his forehead against hers, rubbing their noses together, and she smiles up at him. "Now, about that giggle, that sweet little giggle of yours." She scrunches up her nose when he presses his lips to the tip. "Your little waist can make you giggle." He lifts his head, looking at the side of her neck playfully "What about here? Does your little neck make you giggle?" He leans down, pressing his nose into her neck, and she giggles airily, her shoulder scrunching up on him. "Oh, it does. Wonderful." She giggles brightly as he presses his lips to her neck to give her a soft playful kiss against the sensitive skin. He takes a deep breath, the giggles slowly winding down, and blow out softly into her neck. Araton shrieks softly, hands flying up to grip at his tunic, curling into the soft fabric. "Oh, that was a bit more then a soft little giggle, let me hear that again." He takes another deep breath and blows out again, he gains a similar shriek and he smiles against the soft skin under him. "You're so precious."

Her giggles are continuous, like little bubbles floating in the air around them, and he pulls back to press their foreheads together again. "I just can't get enough of you." Kissing her nose again. "I'm the luckiest angel in all of Heaven." Araton giggles brightly, leaning forward to kiss his chin, and he smiles at the light peck of a kiss. "You're a cheesy angel." Rubbing their noses together. "I'm _your_ cheesy angel." She giggles again. "Am I _yours_ too?"

He nods seriously. "Yes, you are. All mine. I'm not sharin'." He leans in to kiss her nose again. "You're my cute little kitten."

"I like kittens."

"I know you do. Do you want one?"

She looks up at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly ajar. "I can…I can _have_ a kitten?"

"Yes. If you want a kitten, we'll get you a kitten, what are you going to name it?"

"Nibbles."

"It's the perfect name."

He leans back, laying one of his hands on her belly. "Okay, kitten, we know your little waist and your little neck make you giggle, what about your little belly?" She giggles. "I'll take that as a _'yes_ , seeing as I'm not even doing anything, my hands literally just laying there." He twitches his fingers and she shrieks softly. "Oh ho, what's this, is your little belly gonna be really ticklish?" He lefts his hand, her giggles never ceasing, and she shrieks again when he pokes a finger into her lower belly. "This, this has got to be my favorite spot yet." He pokes another finger into her belly, two at the same time, and she squirms lightly. "Oh, it makes you squirm too, this just gets better and better."

Zed falls still, staring down at her, her bright giggly eyes staring back up at him. "What about this?" he digs five fingers lightly into her belly, palm pressed over her belly button, fingers spread out wide, and she shrieks again as she arches her back slightly. "Oh, my, my, someone _does_ have a ticklish little belly." He tilts his head playfully. "I wonder…." Araton giggles continuously, watching closely, as he pulls the bottom of her tunic up, only slightly, and leans forward to press his lips to the small piece of bare belly that's revealed for him. He chuckles softly when she shrieks softly, arching her back again, and kisses her belly softly. "What about this?"

Taking a deep breath, the Virtue blow out on her belly, and he's rewards with a bright squeal from his shy little kitten of an apprentice. He laughs softly against her belly, her hands having let go of his tunic to clutch at his hair, perhaps his slight beard only adds to the sensation. "I have to repeat myself, this belly, this is my favorite spot." He moves his head slightly, presses his lips to her belly again, and blows out just as much as he did the first time. Araton squeals again, arching her back lightly, and he smiles as he pulls back. "Adorable. You're adorable."

He curls his hands around her small ones, folding her fingers within his as he pulls them away from his hair, he presses his lips to the little hands he holds within his. "I've never heard something so wonderful before. I adore you, little kitten, with all my heart."

"I love you too, Z."

Zed was her first and greatest friend. He made her laugh, now that he knew how to, and held her when she caught the wind of the others in her class whispering about her under the impression that she couldn't hear them and broke down, let her explore her curiosity in the fine art he taught her. He didn't think she was weird. He thought she was amazing. He got mad at the others when he caught them talking badly about her. He'd scold them harshly and dismiss them back to their dorms for the rest of the day. He treated her like she was special, he made her feel special, he was hers just as much as she was his.

He leans forward to kiss her forehead. "Should we return to our work below?"

Araton yawns softly and shakes her head, nodding back into his pillow, and he chuckles lightly. "No." Kissing her forehead again, he leans forward, pressing his to hers. "Do you want to take a nap now, little kitten?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay. We can take a nap."


	170. Sticking Together (Haniel & The Powers)

The thoughts are accelerating inside his head. He wants them to slow down so he can remember to breathe but they won't. His breaths come in gasps and he feels the distinct shadow of darkness overtaking his vision. His heart is hammering inside his chest as though it belongs to a rabbit running for its skin. The field around him begins to spin and he squats against the dirt, trying to make everything slow to something his brain and body can cope with.

He feels sick. He's going to be sick. It's so dizzying. He wants to call for help but they're all to far away. On the other side of the Training Field, he's supposed to be guiding the higher classes in hand to hand. They're too far away. They're too far away. They're too far away. He doesn't know who to call, if he can call, is his voice still working. Who does he call, what's his name, who to call, too far away…..blackness…creeping blackness….He's on the dirt ground in the fetal position.

Where is he, what's his name, who to call, what's their name, the ground is hard, the field is spinning….blackness.

An invisible hand clasps over his mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces his heart, unloading in an instant. He feels his ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs. His head is a globe of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing his mind into blackness. He wants to run; he can't move. Sounds that are near feel far away, like he's no longer in the body that lies paralyzed on the rough dirt.

He can't breathe, oh Father, he can't breathe.

Help.

Help me.

Help.

"Han…Hani…." The voice, he knows the voice, follow the voice. "Haniel!"

There's warmth behind him, someone is hovering over him, the bright sun doesn't shine in his eyes anymore. It takes him an extreme amount of energy to look over, to get his eyes to move, the mere inch that he needs them to in order to see who's there.

"Haniel!" He knows that voice, he knows who it belongs to, what's his name. "Haniel, can you hear me?"

There's a soft grunt, is that him, is he the one grunting. He hopes its him.

"Haniel, can I touch you?" He feels the presence of hands hovering over him, waiting for permission, he appreciates it. "Is it okay if I touch you, Haniel?"

There's another grunt, he knows its him now, he's grunting.

Hands curl around his arm firmly, tugging him around, he gazes upon a face, he knows this face, why can't he place the name.

"Nisroc, he's having a panic attack."

"I can see that, Titus, thank you." Hands slowly uncurl his arms from around himself, it hurts, his muscles ache, why can't he loosen up. "Hani, Hani it's Nis, we're here." He stares up at him, he knows that face, he knows that name. "N…..i..s…?" is that him trying to talk? It sounds like him.

"I'm here, baby brother." A hand presses firmly to his chest. "We're all here." A hand cradles the left side of his face, it's cool to the touch, he's so hot. He likes the coolness, he leans into it, and presses closer. "We're going to help you upstairs, okay, we're going to go somewhere cooler and quieter, okay?" He nods, his head jerks lightly, another face appears. He knows that face too. That's Abraxos. He likes Abraxos. Abraxos always pokes him in the belly when they pass each other. They're close like that. Abraxos smiles down at him gently. "Let's get you to your feet, baby brother."

Hands curl under his shoulders, hook under his arms, and his world spins as he's lifted from the ground. They curl his arms around their shoulders, he's walking, is he walking, it feels more like stumbling, he's stumbling across the dirt of the Training Field.

He knows others are watching. It's quite the spectacle, a Power losing his faculties, dropping to the dirt like that. He doesn't blame them for staring. He'd stare too.

They're carrying him. There's no other way they got him across the field and to the stares that lead to the Pavilion above, other then the fact that they're carrying him, they have to be, there's no way he's walking.

Oh, that's soft, he likes whatever they sit him against, it's soft. Someone slides in behind him, their knees appear just outside the blackness creeping into his vision, arms curl around him firmly, a hand around his forehead pulls his head back to lay against someone's chest, a stubbly chin brushes against the side of his forehead. He can feel the rise and fall of their chest, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Should he be breathing like that? He wants to. His chest is starting to hurt.

"Do you feel me breathing, Hani?"

He knows that voice too, he knows that voice rather well, they talk every morning. "P…ur…i…?"

"That's it, baby brother, it's Puri." A hand presses firmly to his chest. "You need to calm you're breathing, baby brother, do you feel my breathing?"

He nods, he knows he's nodding, he focuses on the rise and fall of the chest behind him and tries to mimic it, he struggles at first, he struggles terribly, but then he starts to manage. He takes a deep breath, holds it for a long moment, and then he lets it go.

"There we are, that's it baby brother, focus and mimic."

"Pu…ri….Hur…ts.."

The hand around his forehead, the fingers, they rub over his temple. "I know it does, baby brother, once you calm down I can give you something for the ache."

"Here, Hani, I'm going to press this to your forehead, okay?"

That's Titus, he knows Titus, they throw jokes at each other all the time. He nods lightly. The hand moves away from his forehead and something cool is pressed to it, it feels so nice, he's still so hot. "Let's get you cooled down, baby brother." Yea, that'd be nice, please help Tus. Someone's kneeling next to Tus, he remembers him, that's Abe, the one that pokes his belly. He's holding a cup up to his mouth. "Take a sip, baby brother, it'll help your sore parched throat."

He leans forward, his lips curl over the edge of the cup, and cold sweet water enters his mouth and splashes down his burning throat.

"N..is….Ni..s…" He takes another sip. "N..is?"

"I'm here, baby brother, I'm right here.

There he is, he disappeared for a minute, but he's back. Oh, that's a tunic, he's holding a tunic. His Captain, his big brother, Nis kneels before him, Tus and Abe part for him. "Let's get you into a new tunic, that one's all covered in dirt." Abraxos and Titus help him lift his arms, they're so heavy, like rocks, his dirty tunic is pulled over his head and the clean one pulled down in it's place. "There's a good angel. Now, let's lay you back, easy now." He's sliding, Puriel's moving, no, don't go anywhere, don't leave, was that whine from him. He thinks it was him who whined. Fingers stroke over his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere, baby brother, let's just get you laying down." Okay. He can do that. They're not leaving, that's what Puri said, they're just laying him down. Oh, that's a soft blanket, he likes that blanket, it smells like Nis.

Warm lips press to his forehead, a beard brushes over the skin, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. "Take a rest, baby brother, we're not going anywhere."


	171. Protecting Baby Brother (Haniel & Nisroc)

"I know it was you." He stiffens at the approach of the one behind him. "Who else would play such a trick against us all?"

"I'm in the middle of something."

Fingers wave over his shoulder, and he watches as the class he'd been instructing parts in dismissal, arms curl around his waist from behind and he looks down at the hands that meet in front of him.

"What were you saying?"

He smiles despite himself, turning, looking up at his older brother. "Hey, Nis." His older brother returns his smile, pecking his cheek lightly. "Hello, baby brother."

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

The Captain chuckles lowly. "It would not." And buries himself into the side of his neck.

…

Haniel stared at him in shock, his mouth hanging open, as the others rushed forward, leaving him standing there on his own. Nisroc stood in front of him, vouching for his honor, parlaying terms from their Archangel, requesting the opportunity to show the youngest what it truly meant to be a fearsome Power. Thaddeus stood there, looking so smug, his hand curled tightly around the grip of his whip, he turns to look at him with wide, fearful eyes, the Warden looked so smug.

"Give me time, let me show him, he can learn." Nisroc stepped forward, his finger curled tightly around the hilt of his sword, his loyalty was with his Archangel, but his heart was with his brothers. "As his Captain. Let me have this task."

Michael glared at him from over his Captain's shoulder, jerking his head in the form of a nod. "You have one week."

"Thank you," he bows his head. "Thank you."

Nisroc turns stiffly, dismissing the others with a wave of his hand, and takes hold of the shoulder of his tunic harshly as he tugs him around. "Come on." Haniel stumbles as he's yanked forward, curling his fingers around his older brothers wrist, tugging experimentally. The others depart, separating from their side, not sparing them a simple glance as they strode down the hall, in the direction of his office.

"Nis! Nis, what's going on! Nis! Where are we going!"

"Be silent." He's shoved forward forcefully, he stumbles over his feet, nearly tripping as he's thrown into the office. The others wait for them there, sans Thaddeus, anxiously waiting for their own arrival. Haniel stumbles around as his older brother walks in behind him and closes the door behind him.

"Nis!" His voice cracks in fear. "What's going on!"

"Nothing, baby brother, nothing's going to happen to you." His older brother, his Captain, steps forward and pulls him into a warm embrace. Haniel stiffens for a moment, and slowly, he folds around his older brother. "No one is going to change you. You are perfect just the way you are. We'll protect you."

…

His chest rumbles with a chuckle as he slides up against him, an arm raised for him to duck under, and he presses his ear to his chest to listen to the heart beat thump under his chuckles. Fingers tangle in his curls, and he sighs in comfort, closing his eyes lightly.

"Rough day?"

"The roughest. You are so mean."

Another rumble of chuckles. "I'm your Captain, I'm supposed to ensure you're working at your full potential."

"You had me plank for fifteen minutes."

A finger tapped to his lips gently. "You got mouthy."

"I'm your baby brother." He smiles slightly. "I'm supposed to be mouthy."

There's the soft sound of a book closing, and his brother slides out from under him, turning over to loom over him instead. He smiles up at him, laying between his arms, his older brother returns his smile. "Is that so?"

"Only speaking the truth."

"Then, if that be truth, as your older brother." He lowers himself slowly. "It's my job to make you feel like a fledgling again."

"Nis! No!"

He chuckles against his neck. "I have to, little Hani, it's my job."

…

The laughter of the Powers giggled airily as he watched his older brother loom over him, his arms captive above his head by one of his other older brothers, Nisroc smiled down at him, cracking his fingers lightly. "Hold him down." He knelt beside him, sitting on his knees lightly, and leaned over menacingly. "It's my turn."

When ten fingers pressed against his bare belly, he knew he was going to regret every prank he'd ever played against his older brother.

When he pressed his lips to his belly, rubbing his beard in, he knew he was going to die.


	172. Baby Blues (Haniel & The Powers)

"Hani," hands curled around the fledglings middle and lifted him from his place on the floor, crawling against the stone, heading for the stairs. "Where are you going, baby brother?" He's turned around, and big familiar blue eyes meet his brilliant green, and the fledgling giggles excitedly. "is! 'is!" The older angel chuckles and lifts him up, leaning back, as he lifts him above his head. "Were you looking for me?"

"P'ay?"

"You want to play with big brother?"

The fledgling bounces in his embrace, reaching down with little grasping hands, and he chuckled as he accommodated the fledgling by pulling him close again. Little fingers curled over his beard, petting lightly, the fledgling gave a giggly coo.

"is p'ay w' 'ani?"

He kisses at the little fingers petting his beard, chasing his little hands playfully, the fledgling leans back with a happy giggle.

"What does baby brother want to play?"

…

They all sat in a circle, legs crossed or outstretched, watching the giggly fledgling seated in the middle of their circle chewing on the fingers of his left hand. He looked between them all, chewing away contentedly, making small mewing noises of content. His eyes came to rest on one of them, smiling brightly, he pulled his fingers from his mouth and reached out. "Pu'i! Pu'r up!"

The older angel raises his hands. "Come on then."

Little fingers flexed demandingly. "P'ui! Upppp!"

The medic shakes his head softly. "You've got to walk to big brother."

Tears gathered in little brilliant green eyes, fingers flexing again, and they all watched in amusement as their brother's resolve nearly crumbled. Who could resist those baby eyes when they watered so adorably.

"Come, baby brother, big brother wants a hug." He flexed his own fingers at the fledgling. The little thing tilted his head, little curls bouncing with the movement, cooing softly as he pulls his fingers back in his mouth. "Pu'I wan' 'ug!"

"Pu'i wants a big hug."

The little fledgling pulled his fingers from his mouth again, little curls bouncing as he slowly, wobbly, pushed himself up to his feet. He stumbled, hands raised, for the medic that wanted a big hug. Puriel smiles at him, flexing his fingers encouragingly. "Come on, baby brother, come to Pu'i."

"Pu'i 'ug!" Their little fledgling stumbled with each wobbly step. "Pu'i 'ug!"

He stumbled forward, nearly falling over, curls bouncing with ever movement, and hands curled around his middle and pulled him into a warm cuddle of a hug. Little Hani curled his arms around his big brothers neck and hugged him close. "ig 'ug!"

"Thank you, baby brother."

He giggled, leaning back. "Pu'i 'iss?"

"You want a kiss?"

The baby fledgling nodded happily, puckering his little lips up, and the medic chuckled as he leaned forward and pecked his little lips. "Good?"

"Nother! 'ore 'iss!"

"Can I kiss you're little belly?"

Baby Hani giggled adorably, they all smiled at the sound. "Elly 'iss!"

…

"I forgot how adorable you were as a fledgling."

"Not a word, Nis."

"You kept asking Puri to kiss your belly."

"Not a _word_."

"I could kiss your belly."

"Nis! _Nis!_ Get _off!_ Nihihis Nohoho!"


	173. The Fever Gives It Away (Jordon & Titus)

"Hey papa."

He smiles at the voice, sparing a glance upwards, polishing his sword silently in the empty Armory. "Hello, Jory."

The boy smiles at the pet-name, crossing from the doorway, coming to sit next to the Power on the bench. He pauses slightly, turning to gaze at the familiar tunic, raising an eyebrow. "Is that Andre's tunic?"

"Yea."

The warrior nods, turning back to his polishing, humming under his breath lightly. His son sighs softly, slumping down, looking about the Powers Armory.

"Wait a minute." He pauses, sitting up lightly. "You never call me that unless…" The boy turns away from him when he looks up to spy what the matter could be. "Jordon, what has happened?"

"Nothing pa—dad."

"Look at me."

Hesitantly, the boy turns to face him, and he takes in the damage for himself. His eyes narrow at the flush to his cheeks, the light sheen that came with a fever, and he frowns as he reaches out to feel for the heat rising from his skin. He presses the back of his hand to his forehead, then to his cheeks, frowning in disapproval. "How long have you been sick?"

"I'm not."

"Jordon."

His child ducks again. "For the last week."

"Right." Titus sets his sword aside, dusting his hands off, and stands from the bench he's taken up occupancy on. He reaches out for his son, and Jordon stands with him, leaning against his side as the Power turns them from the room. "We'll stop by Uncle Puri's room first, and then we'll get you into bed."

"Okay papa."

They walk passed the Captain's office, the soft chatter of his daughter coming through the crack of the door, vaguely they could see her slim figure sitting on the edge of his desk, back facing them. Titus guided him up the first step. "Why did you change shirts?"

"I…" Jordon looks down with embarrassment. "I got sick on mine. Andre let me have one of his. He promised not to say anything."

"Your older brother cares a lot about you."

They stopped at his uncles room first, Puriel had frowned at the sight of him, nodding at the request for some tonics. He gathered what he thought they would need and gave them to his brother.

Pressing his hand to his nephews temple, he addressed him. "Next time, just tell one of us, little nephew."


	174. The Smallest Detail (Andre & Titus)

"Are you…Are you wearing one of the _Powers_ tunics?"

Each one of the four legions wore a distinct type of tunic, it was all in the embroidery, the design was the matter, and the tunic he wore was very distinct in its embroidery. He sleeps shirtless, something he's done since he was a small fledgling, and when he had woken up that morning, the Power long since having woken for training that day, he had thrown on the first tunic he found and left it at that.

But, now, looking down at the tunic he wore, he knew what mistake he had made.

It was much too big for his lithe frame, something he hadn't really taken note of until now, and the embroidery, the embroidery was very particular.

"Uhm.." How does he answer that question without giving way to the Power's favor. "No?"

"Of course, he's not." He knew that voice, he turned to glare over his shoulder, at the owner of the voice. They'd been at odds longer then ever. "Why would someone like a _Power_ take notice of _him_?" His opponent looks him over with distaste. "He's small, runty, as thin as a stick, much too thin to be a guard." He sneers at him. "How could a _Power_ ever give _him_ the time of day?"

"Shut up, Theliel."

"Why?" The taller guard in training shoves him back. "It's true. What'd you do?" He reaches forward to shove him again. " _Steal_ from one of them. Trying to make yourself seem special by wearing one of their tunics? As though they would give you one. As though they would pay attention to someone as weak as you."

"I didn't steal it!"

"You had too." Theliel sneers at him again. "There's no other way the likes of you could get something from them."

Andreus straightens up from being shoved so meanly, dusting the front of his tunic off. "Why are you so mean to me! I'm nothing but nice to you!"

"Because, you think you're better then everyone else." Theliel shoves him again. "Always staying after training has ended. Trying to aim for things that are clearly out of reach for those like you."

"I'm a hard worker." He narrows his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean? The _'likes of me'_?"

"You know. A simple _miracle worker_. You're not even high enough in station to be a trainee. How you managed to get here is beyond my comprehension. All your kind is good for is little tricks and miracles, healing sick people, making things happen at random, that's it. You're not _strong._ You're not _fearsome_."

"Miracle workers are strong too!"

"Sure you are, in magic, that's all your good at."

Andre rushes forward, shoving him harshly in the chest, Theliel stumbles back a step in surprise.

"I work hard because hard work gets you what you want! I work hard because I have _ambitions_!" Theliel straightens just as quickly as he did, his fingers curling into fists, at the audacity of someone like a mere _miracle worker_ touching him. "Things aren't handed down on a _silver plater_ for everyone!" He straightens up, standing to his full 5'11" height, and squares his shoulders. "I earn what I want because, unlike you, it was handed down to me by the one that _raised_ me!"

"You should have stayed with your kind." Theliel takes the first swing, and given the amount of extra training he puts in, Andre ducked under his fist and turned, catching him by the wrist as he thrust his elbow back into his diaphragm. The bigger boy huffs in surprise, the wind cast from his lungs, choking on a breath deep in his throat. "We are our own kind."

"What is going on in here?"

The others scattered at the arrival of the voice, stern and reprimanding at the site of a scuffle in his barrack, not wanting to fall under his firm, angered at those responsible for a quarrel breaking out in _his_ barrack.

"Andre, what are you doing?" A large hand curls in the collar of his stolen tunic and tugs him forward. "Did you attack Theliel?"

"No!"

"He did!" The bested trainee is quick to jump to his own defense in the wake of being on the wrong end of the Power's temper. "All I did was ask him a question and he just jumped at me!"

"Is that so?"

Andreus tugs on his sleeve insistently. "I did not!" The Power reaches over for his hand to stop him and curls his fingers around the small appendage to pull it away from his sleeve. "All you did was ask him a question?"

"It's true!"

"Very well, why don't you return to your studies, I'll take care of it."

Theliel made a face at the thought of returning to his studies, clearly not first on his list of things to do during his free time but nodded as to not attract the Power's ire. He curls his fingers over the other young boys shoulder and steers him around, Andre still trying to speak his case, they all know what happens to those that face their Mentor's temper.

"And Theliel," they stop just in the doorway. "You're a horrible liar." Theliel blushes a deep crimson. "Your nose twitches." His hand flies up to cover it.

He guides his young charge out the door and turns them down the hall. Andre tugs on his hand, it's still wrapped around his, adamant on speaking his case. "Tus, I didn't jump at him! I swear!"

"I know you didn't, Andre, calm down." He squeezes his hand in return, guiding him around the corner into his office, back behind his desk. Sitting heavily, he pats the desk with his free hand, and the young trainee takes that as his invitation to hop up. "How long has he been bullying you?"

Andre averts his eyes. "Not long."

"You're just as horrid a liar as he is." He leans forward to nudge his chin with a knuckle. "How about we try for the truth?"

"Since the beginning."

"Why didn't you come to me, Andre?"

There is a hint of hurt in his voice, knowing that someone was hurting one so close to his heart and there hadn't been anything he could do to put a stop to it, and that it was because he hadn't thought to come to him.

Andre inhales deeply. "I didn't want to look weak." He refuses to look up to meet his gaze. "Sorry."

"It's not okay." He jerks quickly when Titus reaches forward to squeeze his knee teasingly, his head shooting up, their eyes meeting again. "But I understand."

Titus smiles at him, and he returns it unwittingly, he loves Titus. He never stays mad for too long. He leans forward to tug at the front of his tunic.

"Are you wearing one of my tunics?"

He blushes brightly, looking down at the fine tunic he wears, much too big for his lithe frame, and curls in on himself. "It was the first thing I grabbed." He chances a glance upwards, taking in his unofficial guardians amused smirk. "It is okay?"

"It's so big on you."

"You're a big angel."

"I'm a what?" The Power curls his fingers around his lower thigh lightly. "Tread lightly."

"A good angel."

"That's what I thought you said." He squeezes lightly and he still jerks, a light shriek escaping him as he tries to pull his leg back with all his might, struggling when a hand curls around his ankle to keep him from moving, and the other climbs up his thigh carefully. "I don't like how I found out you've been being bullied by another soul in your training squadron."

"Tuhuhuhus!"

"You don't think what he said is true, do you?"

"Plehehehease!"

"Because it's not."

He tries to kick at him with his free foot but it makes no deterrence. "Lehehehet gohohoho!"

"You're my little warrior. I'd do anything for you. I don't care if you wear my tunics." He curls his fingers underneath, pinching at the meat of his under thigh, and the boy shrieks again, squirming in his seat. "Tuhuhuhus! Plehehehease!"

"This is adorable. I should do this more often." He squeezes rather harshly, smirking when he pulls a squeal from the boy. "You're going to come to me if this happens again, aren't you?"

"Yehehes!"

"Good boy."

He pulls his hands away, leaning back in his chair, smiling as Andre slowly catches his breath as he tries to rub the remaining tingles away. "Seriously though, I don't care if you wear my tunics, it's so _big_ on you, you little thing you."

"Tus, you're so embarrassing."

"What?" He shrugs it off. "I think it's cute."

"I'm not cute. I'm fearsome."

"Fearsomely cute."

"Tuuuusssss!"


	175. Facing The Consequences (Nisroc, Abraxos, Michael, & Sablo)

He felt dread settling deep in his belly as he makes his way up the path to the Archangel’s Villa, the others are out attending to their duties, at least he knows there will be some semblance of privacy, but that doesn’t help him very much, with what he knows is about to happen. He steps up on the porch and reaches out to open the screen door, stepping inside, he closes the door behind him, toes his boots off, and follows the familiar path down to his guardian’s bedroom, where he knows he’ll be.

He turns, facing the door, and reaches up to knock, waiting for the occupant within to call out, granting him entrance. Sighing softly, he reaches for the door handle, twists it, and pushes the door open.

“Hello, Nisroc.”

“Hi, Micha.”

Michael sets his book aside on the bedside table. “Oh, you’re calling me _‘Micha’_ , something must be wrong.” He waves him in, and the Power steps in, closing the door behind him, crossing the room to stand before him on the bed. “Tell me what brings you here, Nisroc.”

“Micha,” he looks down at his hands. “I did something bad.”

“Oh?” He turns in bed, curling his legs over the edge of the bed, settling his feet on the floor. “What happened?”

“Well,” Nisroc looks down to his feet. “You know how Abe died, or, we thought he did?”

“Yes, I was quite upset, Abraxos means much to me.”

“Well, I—I um.” He feels like a fledgling again, admitting to a wrong doing, getting into a fight with his brother or with another, but he needs to do this, he won’t get Abe’s forgiveness if he doesn’t. “I blamed Sablo. It was for him Abe sacrificed himself for. I told Sablo it was his fault. I forced the others to ignore him, to pretend he didn’t exist, I hurt him.”

“I see,” Michael pushes himself to his feet, standing in front of the mighty Power, not so mighty now, he can’t even meet his eyes. “You neglected someone who’s been neglected all his life, you, someone who’s told him multiple times he can trust in you, were just as bad as everyone else he’s known in his life.”

He feels shame settle in his belly, that’s exactly what he’d done, he’d hurt him in more ways then he can even begin to imagine. “I did.”

“What was the outcome of your cruel treatment?”

“I drove him…I drove him to harm himself…He….He carved gashes into his arms.”

Michael hums. “You broke him. Someone who has a history of self-harm, you drove him to that point, I want that to rest on your shoulder’s for a moment. You are the reason he bares more scars.” He rubs at his mouth lightly. “What was his goal, when he dug into his arms, what was his hoped-for outcome?”

“I—I don’t know….” He shakes his head. “I..I hope it wasn’t to…..Wasn’t to….You know…”

“Kill himself?” The Archangel hums softly. “Your brother loves that boy very much, he’s his chosen successor, he’s lost so much, this boy was his salvation, and you could have quite possibly driven him to an attempt on his own life.” Michael falls silent for a moment. “Are you proud of yourself, Nisroc, does knowing this make you feel better?”

He shakes his head. “No…No, it makes me feel worse….To know that…..I never thought about that….That I might push him to…To….”

“To such an act?” Michael nods lightly. “What brings you here to see me, Nisroc?”

“I…I want you to punish me for it….I want to atone…”

“I see,” the Archangel nods again. “Your brother said he would not forgive you if you didn’t, did he?” He hums softly when the younger angel nods. “I see, tell me, Nisroc, are you asking me to punish you because you feel guilty, or simply to gain your brother’s forgiveness?”

“I…Both?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“Both, for both.”

Michael nods once more. “I see, what do you think you deserve as your punishment?”

Nisroc fidgets slightly. “The…The whip.”

“Alright,” he steps around him for his closet. “Do you think you should take it bare, or no?”

“I..I think I should take it bare.”

Michael hums softly, reaching into his closet for his whip, and turns back to face him, gesturing for him to move up against the wall. “How many do you think you deserve?”

“One hundred.”

“Nisroc, I will not whip you one hundred times, no matter the offence, give another number.”

“I…I think I deserve that many.”

“And, that is because of the guilt you feel.” He caresses his cheek lightly. “I know you are ashamed in yourself, my little nighthawk, but I will not be so cruel as to whip you that many times.”

“Twenty-five times.”

“I will do that, much better.” He pats his cheek and guides him around. “Prepare yourself, bare yourself and hands against the wall.” He doubles over his whip as the Power nods, turning towards the wall, shimmying his trousers down slightly, he leans forward, pressing his hands against the wall. He closes his eyes, preparing himself for what’s about to come, curling his hands into fists. He clenches his eyes when he hears the whip whistle through the air, and jumps, shrieking softly, throwing his hands back involuntarily. “Hands on the wall, Nisroc.”

The Power nods, his hands shake as he pulls them back around to his front, pressing his palms against the wall firmly. The one thing he likes about Michael’s reprimanding is that it’s quick, he doesn’t lecture, he doesn’t force you to explain yourself, he doesn’t make you count the blows, he just delivers them. The one thing he dislikes about Michael’s reprimanding is that he doesn’t hold his strength, he hits full force, he wants it to be a lasting message.

It’s over before he knows it is, and he’s sobbing softly into his arms, leaning against his wall, from guilt, shame, and the pain in his rear end. Mostly from guilt and shame. Sablo had called him _‘papa’_ , he’d trusted him and loved him enough to consider him a close father figure, and he’d abused that trust, he’d treated it as though it meant nothing. He’d shunned him, when he was needed most, he’d turned on him. He feels horrible, empty, he feels dirty, he’s a traitor.

Michael silently returns his whip to his closet and crosses back over to his side, reaching for the waist of his trousers to pull them back up, then guides him around by his shoulders. “Come here, my little nighthawk.”

He turns, throwing his arms around the Archangel’s neck, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder, breathing out a soft sob. He rubs at his back soothingly, swaying them from side to side, holding him as he breaks down. “What you need to do now, is do everything you can, to earn back your little one’s trust. You need to apologize. It will be a long haul, not easy coming, but you need to earn his trust back.”

“W-What if I can’t?”

“You can. That boy loves you dearly. If I know anything about this, it’s your brother who’s keeping him from forgiving you right now, you need to earn your brother’s trust, once you earn his trust, you will gain your little one’s forgiveness.”

“I’m so sorry, papa.”

Michael presses a kiss to the side of his head, petting his fingers down the back of his head, scratching at his scalp lightly. “I know you are, little nighthawk.”

…

Abraxos sets his mug down on the table when he sees his Captain crest the top of the stairs, he’d disappeared some hours ago, and they’d all wondered where he’d gone to. He hears him sniffle softly, and crosses from behind the table, stopping him in his tracks, standing in front of him, he reaches up, curling his hands around his cheeks, wiping away tear tracks with his thumbs.

“What was it?”

The older Power sniffs softly, averting his eyes, reaching up to rub at his nose. “The whip. On bare. Twenty-five times.”

He nods, rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks again. “I forgive you.” Nisroc looks up at him. “I forgive you, Nisroc.”

“I’m so sorry, Abe, I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“I know you are, Nis, I know you are.” He pulls him forward, into his arms, and the older Power curls around him, curling his arms around him tightly, pressing his face into his shoulder. “I forgive you. I forgive you, Nis. I know you didn’t mean it. I know.”

“Please, Abe, please, can I see him?” He presses his forehead against his younger brother’s shoulder. “Please, will you let me see him?”

“It’s time to clean his wounds and I want you to do it this time.”

Nisroc sniffs softly. “What if I hurt him?”

“It’s going to hurt, they’re rather deep, but I want you to dress them, and then I want you to calm him down afterwards.”

“What…..What if I can’t, Abe?”

“You will, I know you will, you’re his second papa, just be his papa.” He rubs at his back comfortingly. “All the things you need are in my room, that’s where he’s staying for right now, tell Raha to come out here.” He pushes him away slightly. “Tell Sab that I said it was okay to forgive you.”

“Thank you, Abe, thank you.”

“I love you, Nis, no matter what.” He presses a gentle kiss to his older brother’s cheek, and steps back, nodding towards the hall. “Go on.”

Rahatiel glares at him, when he enters the room, petting the younger Power’s hair lightly. “Abe said to join him in the Lounge.” He continues to glare at him as he huffs, pushing himself away from his other half, and bumps his shoulder as he steps passed him and around the corner of the doorframe. 

Sablo looks up at him curiously, tilting his head slightly, and he smiles softly. “I’m here to clean your arms.”

The youngest Power’s face pales, but he nods, sitting up against the pillows, holding his wrists out. Nisroc nods, crossing the room to his brother’s desk, where the supplies for his task sit, and he picks up a wrap of bandages, the disinfectant, and a few rags, preparing himself for the task at hand.

He sets everything down on the bed next to him as he sits, reaching out to unwind the old bandages from around his wrists, feeling guilt settle in the pit of his belly at the sight of the two gashes over his wrists. He reaches for the right first, pulling it closer, and then for the rag and disinfectant, he pours a bit onto the rag, and apologizes as he dabs at the wound, his heart breaking when he cries out, curling the fingers of his free hand around his to keep him from pulling it away when he makes to jerk back.

Sablo begs him to stop, choking on sobs, pushing at him with his other hand and his feet, but he’s immovable. “I’m almost done, starfish, I’m almost done.” He binds that wrist and catches his other hand, unwinding the bandages, dabbing at that gash with the rag as gently as he can manage. “Hang in there for me, hang in there for papa, I’m almost done.”

“Huuurts! Papa, huuurts! Stooop! Pleeeease!”

“I know, I know it does, little angel, I’m almost done.” He sets the rag aside and wraps the bandages around his wrist, finished just as quick as he’d started. “All done, we’re all done, you did so well.” He leans over, placing the used things on the bedside table, and scoots forward, pulling the youth into his arms. “It’s alright, you’re alright, sshhh.”

Sablo presses against his chest, crying softly, curling his arms up into his chest. He coos softly, scratching at the back of his head, urging him to calm down. It takes a few minutes, but the tears come to a stopping point, he wheezes through a stuffy nose, and Nisroc pushes himself around, pressing back against the pillows, holding him in his arms. “I’m so sorry, little angel, I’m so, _so_ sorry.” He presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“D—Did papa say it was o-okay?”

“He did, he did say to tell you it was okay.”

Sablo nods, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. “I forgive you, papa.”

“Thank you, little angel, thank you.” He kisses his head again. “I love you; I love you so much, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, little angel.”

“I love you too, papa.”


	176. Tickle Monster In Training (Thaddeus, Sabaoth, & Jahoel)

“Okie dokie, little brother, I think it’s time for you to have your first time in the chamber.”

Sabaoth looks towards the closed door and shakes his head. “Big brother, I don’t know, I’m not like you.” He turns to look at the Warden in concern. “What if I can’t make them laugh?”

“I know you can, Saba.” His older brother rubs his back soothingly. “I thought it be best for you to start with someone you know.” Sabaoth tilts his head in question, and Thaddeus smiles, guiding him forward. “Let me show you.” He reaches for the door handle to the chamber, turns it, and pushes the door open. “I’m sure you know who this is.”

“Thaddy! Thaddy, you stinking cheat! This isn’t fair! I’m not a prisoner anymore! Let me go!”

_“Jahoel?”_

Hazel eyes jump from the Warden to the co-warden. “Saba?”

Thaddeus smiles at the young kleptomaniac, turning to address his second in command, patting him on the back. “I thought a familiar face for your first time would be best.”

“You chose me to be Saba’s first victim!” He struggles against his binds, kicking his legs and tugging at his arms, growling lowly. “Thaddy! This isn’t fair! Let me go! I didn’t do anything! I’ve been well behaved!”

“Yes, you have, my little jackal.” Thaddeus coos softly, smiles at his co-warden, and turns to his young charge, stepping forward to stand at his side, and flutters his fingers over his belly lightly. “And, I’m so proud of you, you’ve been so well behaved.”

Jahoel giggles furiously, trying to suck in his belly though his giggles make it difficult. “Thahahahaddy! Stohohop!”

He flutters his fingers around once more, and pulls away, gesturing for the co-warden to come up with him. “I want you to be good for Saba, no cursing, be nice, it’s his first time.”

“Whyhy mehehe?”

“Because he knows you, you guys are good friends, and I want him to be dealing with someone who will be nice to him for this first time.”

“Thahat’s nohot fahair!”

The Warden wiggles a finger into his side. “I think it is. Are you saying you don’t want to help your best friend?”

“Nohoho! I wahahant tohoho hehehelp! Thahahaddy! Stohohop!”

He chuckles softly, letting the boy alone, and Jahoel giggles softly, he turns to his co-warden. “He’s all yours, Saba.”


	177. The True Tickle Monsters (Nisroc, Abraxos, & Thaddeus)

He awakens slowly, kicking his foot slightly, feeling something stroking over his sole, and looks around cautiously to take in his surroundings. There’s a roaring fireplace next to him, the lamps on the bedside tables are on, flickering their light around them softly. He kicks his foot again, something’s stroking his sole, and looks down to see what it is, someone smiles up at him. “Well, hello there, my little Tasmanian Devil.”

“A—Abe?”

“Ah, ah, ah, no sir.” He scratches a finger over the middle of his sole lightly. “That’s not what you’re going to call me, no sir.”

“P—Papa?”

“Much better.”

He looks away when the door opens, his eyes widen slightly, when he steps in. “Oh, good, he’s awake.”

“Yes, he just woke up, Nis.”

“P—Papa?” They both turn to smile at him. “W—What’s going on?” He looks up, tugging on his bound wrists. “Why…Why am I tied up?”

They share a chuckle, crossing around the edges of the bed, to be at his sides. Nisroc smiles down at him, sitting lightly on his knees at the edge of the bed, Abraxos takes his other side. “Well, little frog, your brother told us you were being particularly mean to him.”

“He did,” Abraxos nods. “He asked us if we could help.”

He looks back over to the Captain when he nods. “And, we said we would.”

Thaddeus looks between the two of them, beginning to realize just how precarious his position was, and his eyes grow wider. “W—What?”

Abraxos smiles down at him. “You think you’re a big bad tickle monster, don’t you?”

“I—I mean…” He looks between them both. “N—Not as bad as you guys.”

“Darn right you’re not.” Nisroc nods firmly, lowering himself to lay on his right side, wiggling a finger over his highest rib, Thaddeus squeaks, giggling feverishly, tugging at his bound arms vigorously. “We taught you everything you know.”

The second oldest Power nods, lowering himself to lay on his left side, poking a finger over his ribs. “I think our little tickle monster needs reminded of his place on the food chain.”

“I agree, Abe.”

“G—Guys! Wait! L—Let’s talk about this!”

He goes ignored.

“Nis, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I believe I am.”

“Ribs?”

“Ribs.”

He squeals brightly when they both start to nibble on his ribs, at the same time, in complete unison. Kicking his legs as best as he can, he throws his head back, pressing it back against the pillow, mentally cursing his younger brother for telling on him.

_Oh, payback is coming, little brother._


	178. Loving The Belly (Hamaliel, Abraxos, & The Boys)

“Look at who I have here,” Hamaliel giggles up at his older brother, Rahatiel smiles down at him, drumming his fingers over his lower belly. “My adorable little baby brother.”

“Rahahahahaha! Nohoho!”

“And, look at what I have all to myself,” the Power wiggles his fingers in lightly. “His adorable little chubby tummy tum.”

“Eieieiieiaiaahahahahahhahaa nohohhohohoo! Rahahahaha!”

“This little chubby tummy needs _extra_ love.”

“Nohohohoho! Nohohoho ihihihit dohohohoesn’t!”

“It sure does, how about some kisses?” He playfully pecks at his belly, driving the youth crazy with giggles, Hamaliel shakes his head, trying to cover his belly with his hands. “Now, we can’t have that, can we?” The youth tries to evade him when he reaches for his hands, but long fingers curl around his wrists anyway, pulling his hands back. “I think that action calls for some sort of consequence.”

“Nohohoho! Ihihihit dohohohoesn’t!

“Oh, yes it does.” He takes a deep breath, puffing his cheeks up, and Hamaliel squeals softly, shaking his head, he knows what that means, he knows all to well. Rahatiel falls forward, his face pressing into his belly, and he shrieks, waiting in anticipation, and then he blows, the first of many.

“EEIEIEIAEIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AEIEIEIEIEIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO EIEIEIEIIEAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA RAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOSE EEIEIIEIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHHAA!”

“This tummy gets all the berries.”

…

“Hama, why don’t you go join them?” Abraxos nudges him with his elbow, he’d been watching him watching his older brothers playing in the water enviously, as though he wanted to join, but couldn’t bring himself to. “You clearly want to.”

The boy shakes his head lightly, his eyes flitting to the others around them. “I don’t want to take my shirt off.”

“Why not?”

He spares him a glance. “People might stare because I’m fat.”

“Hamaliel, we’ve talked about that word.” He intones firmly. “You are _not_ fat. You’re perfect, a completely normal boy, nothing to be ashamed of, you looks just like your older brothers, and they’re not ashamed, you shouldn’t be either.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Abraxos sighs softly, and whistles sharply, turning to look at the others. His boys all look around at him at the noise, and he nods his head to the youth next to him, drawing in the sand absently, not seeing their attention focusing on him. They all nod, darting out of the water, up the sandy beach. Hamaliel shrieks in surprise when he’s overcome. Chayyliel tugs his shirt up over his head, Rahatiel and Sablo pull his arms over his head, and he squeals brightly when Puriel straddles his waist and digs his fingers into his belly playfully.

The second oldest Power smiles lightly, leaning back on his elbows, and closes his eyes as he tilts his head up towards the sun, soaking in the rays and the squealing laughter next to him.


	179. After Training Wind Down (Adonai & The Powers)

“Come on, kiddo, you can join us in our wind down.”

Adonai looks up at his mentor, Nisroc smiles at him and gestures for him to follow after him, as he turns, and makes his way across the training field with the others. He follows dutifully after the oldest Power, across the training field, and steps closer when they reach the underside of the Pavilion, clamoring in front of Titus, as they make their way to the stairs, he doesn’t want to be separated from his mentor in the large milling bodies that were the other Powers.

Nisroc leads him up the stairs, he hops up the last stair to join him up top, and follows him down the hall to his room. He turns into the door way, watching the Captain tug his tunic up over his head, eyes widening when he gestures to him. “Take your top off.” He nods, not wanting to make him say it twice, and tugs his own tunic up over his head, tossing it into the hamper over top of the Captain’s. He leans over to untie his boots when the elder does the same, kicking them over to rest against the wall, and reaches back down to tug his socks off. “Okie doke, come with me.” He nods, turning to follow after him as he leads him down the hall towards the washroom, it’s steamy in there, warm, as they enter the back washroom. Someone’s turned the heat up in the water, it’s steaming, like a hot tub.

It’s a drop from the edge down onto the boarding step, and Nisroc steps down first, turning to hold his hand out to him. Adonai curls his fingers around his hand, and hops down into the water. Abraxos is sitting there already and catches him by the waist of his trousers when he stumbles forward, pulling him back again.

“Whoa! Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

Nisroc steps off the ledge, into the deeper water, it pools around his waist, and sits on the step. Adonai looks between them both, and carefully lowers himself to sit between the two of them. Abraxos sighs and stretches his arms around, his right arm rubs against his shoulders as he reclines back against the edge, tilting his head back, he closes his eyes, and Adonai watches him carefully.

“Relax, little guy.” He ducks slightly as a large hand rubs over his curls slightly. “It’s wind down time.”

“Wind down time?”

“Yep,” the second oldest Power turns to look down at him, placing his arm back in it’s original position behind him, Abraxos smiles at him, rubbing at his shoulder lightly. “Wind down time, soaking our weary muscles in hot steamy water, helps keep the ache down.”

He nods, leaning back against the edge, pressing his head back against the arm draped behind him. The others filter in a few moments later, Puriel and Hasmal are talking between each other quietly, Haniel has a book in his hand, Titus has a drink in hand, and Rahatiel and Sablo are holding hands (as they usually are, they’re always touching in some manner), they all step down into the pool of steaming water, filling in the empty spaces.

“You did good today, ‘Nai.” He sits up, smiling at Titus, the captain of the guards smiles back in return. “You never cease to amaze us.”

He blinks, he’s still not used to being on the receiving end of compliments, something they were trying to make up for, and made sure to compliment him once every day, and tilts his head. “How?”

“The fact that you can keep up with _Nisroc_ without any kind of formal training.” He takes a sip from his drink. “You have the true spirit of a warrior.”

“I do?”

He nods. “You do.”

Adonai smiles to himself, reaching up with a dripping hand to rub at his nose lightly. “Cool!”


	180. Endurance Training (Nisroc, Abraxos, & Adonai)

“What did you say we’re doing?” Adonai’s not sure what to think, in this precarious position, Nisroc sitting on his hands, trapping them up above his head, and Abraxos laying himself over his legs, he’s not quite sure what’s going on, but they said that this was an important part of his training. “I don’t know about this.”

“Calm down, we’re not going to hurt you, little protégé.” Nisroc pets his curls lightly, rubbing his thumb over his forehead, and he looks up at him cautiously. “Promise.”

“What are we doing?”

Abraxos smiles at him, patting him on the belly to gain his attention, and Adonai turns to look down at him as was requested of him. “This is your endurance training.”

“Endurance training?”

“Yes, endurance training, one of the most important trainings you have to go through.”

Nisroc hums softly. “It most certainly is.”

Adonai looks between them both. “What…What is endurance training?”

“Well,” the second oldest Power rests his head on his left hand, smiling down at him softly, Abe’s always so happy. “As a warrior, you have to be able to withstand unimaginable tortures.”

The young miracle worker’s eyes widen. “You’re going to _torture_ me?” He doesn’t quite like the sound of that, it sounds like it’ll hurt, he hadn’t thought about this when he’d been offered to be trained by the oldest Power. “You’re…You’re going to _hurt_ me?”

“No, I’m not going to hurt you, I don’t need to hurt you to get through your endurance training.”

“I don’t understand.”

Abraxos smiles at him again. “As a warrior, you need to be able to withhold information from the enemy even under the duress of torture, the information I’m going to try and get from you is a word, and that word is _‘seahorse’_. Do you understand?”

He nods, bracing himself for it, not knowing what he was going to do, but he swore not to say that word under any circumstances. He inhales deeply biting his lip, watching the second oldest Power push his top up, and squeezes his eyes closed, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but he knows it’s going to be bad.

Adonai opens his eyes when he hears him take a deep breath, watching him puff his cheeks up, and shrieks softly as he realizes what’s about to come, shaking his head, tugging at his arms. “No! No, no, no! Not berries! Not those! Stay away!” He sucks in his belly, Michael does this all the time, he knows where Abe learned it from, sucking in his belly is rather hard to do with giggles collecting there, as it shakes as the giggles begin to break free. He shrieks, jumping lightly when the Power slowly lowers his head, his giggling picking up in quantity. “No! NO! Not those! Not Those! Stay away! Stay away! Not berries! Not berries!”

The Power wiggles his fingers into the sides of his belly, and he shrieks with laughter, shrieking softly when he surges down and buries his face into his belly, over his belly button, Adonai shrieks as he sits there, tensing in anticipation, he knows what’s about to come, he knows how bad its going to be, berries are the worst. He blows softly against his belly button and he squeals softly. “Aaahahahahahhaababababaaaaaaa!” The he pauses, the laughter dying into rapid giggles, a small precursor for what’s about to come, and then he lets the berry go, full force, a vicious raspberry over his belly button, and this time he squeals loudly.

“EEIEIIEAIAIAIAIAIAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAAHA!” Pushing at the oldest Power, bracing his hands against the underside of his thighs, trying as hard as he might to push him off, he shakes his head when he feels the other Power take another deep breath. “EEIEIIEIAIAIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA NOHOHOHHOHOHO EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO! AAHAHHAHAHHEHEEEIEIIEIEIAAIAAHAHAHHAAHHAA AHAHAHHAABBABABABE! AAHAHAHAIAEEIEIIEAIAIIAAIAHAHAHAHHHAHHAHAHHAA!”

“Tell me your secret, foe.”

“NOHOHOHOHOHO EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA! NEHEHEHEHEHEEVER! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAEEEEIEIEIEIEIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHHEHEEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHHAAT!”

Abraxos pulls away and buries his fingers into the sides of his belly, wiggling in playfully, and smiles at him as he shrieks and squeals, kicking his legs under him. It’s nice to make the young miracle worker laugh, he needed some laughter, he was always so unsure, always so cautious, he just needed to let go, and what better way than their way. “Tell me your secret and I’ll stop.”

Adonai shakes his head, shrieking with laughter, tugging at his arms under Nisroc’s thighs. He looks up at the Captain, and he smiles down at him, reaching down to poke him on the nose. “You can do it, ‘Nai, I know you can.”

He nods quickly, steeling himself against the second oldest Power, Nisroc believed in him, he wouldn’t tell a single soul his secret word.

The other Power growls softly, playing the part of the enemy, and sits up, reaching out to dig into his thighs. He squeals again, kicking his legs wildly, drilling his heels into the bed under him, wiggling his arms around frantically. “You don’t have to withstand this torture, just tell me your secret, and it can all be over.”

Adonai shakes his head, kicking his legs, squealing with laughter when he turns his fingers inwards, squeezing and kneading into his inner thighs, Abe was enjoying this, he knew it, he was enjoying this way too much. “Eeiieieiaiaiaiaaiahahahahahhahahahha ahahhahahahahahahahahh Aaahahahahhahahaabe! Stohohohohohohop eieieiaiiaiaiaiaaahahahahhahahaha nohohohohot theheheheheheheere! Eieieiiaiaiiaiaaaahahahahhahahahhaaa pleheheheheheeease!”

“All you have to do is tell me your secret, it’s not so hard, I could do this all night, just tell me what you know.”

“Neheehhehehehheever eieieiieiaiaiaaaahhahahahhahahaha! I’ll nehehehehehever teeieieieiaiaiaiahahahahahahhahaha nehehehever tehehehehehheell!”

“Then, I’ll just never stop.” The young miracle worker’s eyes widen and he screeches, lifting from the second oldest Power’s bed, when he slips his hands under him, two fingers wiggling in the inner undercurve of his cheeks, he arches, tensing, clenching tightly, for a moment, and falls limp again, cackling and bouncing in place, throwing himself one way, and then the other, trying to get away from those two fingers, but he can’t escape. “Oh, this is a good spot, this is nice.”

Nisroc chuckles softly, over the youth’s bright cackles, and nudges his brother with his left foot to gain his attention. “You really love that spot, don’t you?”

Abraxos smiles up at him, nodding slightly. “I do, I really do, it’s the most torturous. I pinned Thaddy down the other day, and tested this spot on him, and you should have seen it, Nis, it was glorious.”

“Oh really?”

“I’m telling you.”

The Captain hums. “I’ll have to check this spot out for myself.”

“You won’t be disappointed.”

He smiles, petting the young angel’s curls, pinching his nose lightly. “Our little protégé is doing quite well, I honestly didn’t think he’d last this long, you’ve got,” he checks the watch on his right wrist. “Thirty seconds.”

“It’s been five minutes already?”

“It has, time flies when you’re having fun, Abe.”

“That it does, that it does.” He looks down at the silent youth, his cackles having faded into silence, tears streaming down from his eyes. “Who knew our tough little guy was so sensitive.”

“We’re going to have to tell the others about this.”

“That we do, we most certainly do.”

“And,” Nisroc watches the little hand on his watch. “Time.”

The second oldest Power nods, pulling away from the youth, climbing off of his legs. Adonai lays there limply, giggling breathlessly, he hadn’t even know that particular spot existed. Nisroc lifts himself slightly, pulling the youth’s hands out from under him, and leans forward to set them over his belly, curling his fingers under his arms, he pulls him back, pulling him up against his chest, between his legs. Abraxos stretches out next to him, crossing his ankles, and reaches around to rub at the youth’s belly. “You okay, ‘Nai?”

“Dihihid I pahahass?”

Nisroc chuckles softly, rubbing at his belly gently, gentle soothing circles. “You most certainly did. Settle on down, it’s alright, focus on your breathing.” Adonai nods lightly, taking a few deep breaths to get his breathing under control, and leans his head back against the oldest Power’s shoulder, turning slightly to look at the one next to him. “You’re mean.”

Abraxos chuckles softly, nodding slightly, and reaches over to pat him on the belly. “So, I’ve been told.”

The Captain leans over slightly, for a glass resting on the bedside table, and holds it up to his lips. “Take a few sips, little warrior.”

The miracle worker nods, curling his lips over the edge, and takes a few sips, nodding when he’s had enough, and Nisroc leans over, setting the glass back on the table, returning to rubbing his belly. “Why don’t you take a nap, little guy, you’re certainly spent after that.”

That sounds like a good idea, he nods, resting back against him, and nods again, that sounds like a very good idea.

“I could use a small nap.”

“I thought you might.”


	181. First Christmas (The Powers)

This year was different, this year was special for their family, it was Rahatial and Chayyliel’s first holiday being back with them, it was Hamaliel’s first holiday with their family, it was special, they wanted it to be special, they’d do whatever they could to make it special for them.

Christmas was Hasmal’s time to shine, he took decorating very seriously, he found their stockings in storage, made one for Hamaliel, and hung them proudly on the mantle of the fireplace in the Lounge. He strung garland around the beams in the Lounge, lights around with the garland, then he paused, to take a break for a moment, and then returned to his self-assigned task. He hung wreaths, lights, garland, tinsel, he wanted it to be perfect.

…

“Here?”

Hasmal eyes it skeptically, looking for sign of distaste, tapping his chin lightly. Nisroc was never upset when he asked him to move it again, even if it took half an hour, or it ended up back in the same place it was when they started. He nods to himself. “There.”

“Here.”

Their Captain sets the tree down in the stand, stepping out from behind it, he rubs at his beard as he eyes it. “Perfect.”

The fire bender nods, stepping up to his side, curling around his arm. “Perfect.”

Hamaliel looks over from his place in front of the couch, still in his pajamas, he’d rolled out of bed a little over an hour ago and hadn’t had the notion to change, and no one told him he had to either. He had been watching his guardian play his guitar, playing Christmas songs, and looking over to watch them set the tree perfectly. “Can I help decorate the tree?”

Hasmal and Nisroc turn to look at him, smiling softly, and the fire bender nods. “Sure you can, let’s go get the boxes.”

The youngling smiles, using Abraxos’ knee to push himself to his feet, and scurries over to their side. Nisroc ruffles his curls lightly, and Hasmal nudges him in the side, jerking his head towards the hall, where, at the end, the storage room was. “Come on, little guy.”

The oldest Power watches them disappear around the corner, and smiles, shaking his head lightly, turning to his brother. If he knew him as well as he did, all three of his boys were going to be absolutely spoiled this Christmas.

“So, how much did you get them?”

Abraxos pauses his strumming to look up at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm.”

The youth follows him dutifully, as he leads him down the hall, to the storage room. Hasmal opens the door and gestures to two boxes, indicating him to take one while he’d take the other, Hamaliel lifts his box, expecting it to be heavy, and huffs slightly when it’s not as heavy as he’d thought it’d be. He follows after Hasmal dutifully, as he leads him out of the room and back down the hall.

They set their boxes down in front of the tree, and open them, reaching in for the first decorations. The bulbs are beautiful, silver and gold, green and red, they shine in the fire light, twinkling, and Hamaliel stares down at the one in his hand in awe, they’re beautiful.

“Pretty?” He looks up at the voice, and smiles, nodding his head. “They’re very pretty, papa.”

Abraxos smiles down at him, pulling him into a side hug, and presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Want help?”

“Yes, please.”

…

“Watch out, hot tray coming through,” Peliel ducks as the medic lifts the tray up over his head, and slips his own tray of cookies into the open oven, closing the door, he stands up again, straightening up again. “Peli, were you snacking on the icing?”

His eyes widen, and he wipes at his face with his sleeve, before he turns around, shaking his head at the medic. Puriel eyes him critically, hands resting on his hips, a small smile spreading over his features. “Yes you have,” he reaches out, swiping a finger over his chin, and pulls it back to show him. “It’s on your chin.” He licks the icing off his finger and returns that hand to his hip. “Mister, we’re going to run out of icing.”

“But it’s yummy!”

The Power grins at him wickedly, and Peliel knows what that grin means, and slowly backs up. “You know what else is yummy?”

“Puri, no! No, no Puri!”

“It’s only fair that I get a treat too.” He steps forward, and the young guard backs up a step, his hands held out defensively. “You sure had one.”

“Puri, no!” The young guard turns, making to bolt, most probably for the protection of his captain’s room.

Arms catch him around the waist and snag him up off his feet. “Not so fast, mister, I want my treat.”

Titus looks up when they enter, smiling at his struggling guard, and looks back down to his Elect. Briathos smiles up at him, his eyes half lidded, he’s so close to falling asleep, he’d had a tough afternoon of training, they’d been right task masters, and his little Elect was sleepy now. “Keep it down, Puri, Bria is right on the verge of sleep.”

“I’ll keep it down.” Puriel pouts lightly at not being able to have some fun time with his favorite little tummy, but adapts quickly, and drops the young guard down beside his Captain, claiming a spot next to them, he tugs him in close, cuddling up against him, pulling him back into his chest, he rests his chin on his shoulder. “We’ll have some tummy fun later, Pelican.”

Peliel smiles, leaning back against him, curling his arms around him. “Okay, Puri.”

…

They both wake at the same time, he blinks, staring at the chest in front of him, reaching up to rub at his eyes. He looks up, watching the snow fall lazily out the window, it’s piled up on the outside.

“Chayy…?”

He looks down to meet their golden eyes, Rahatiel smiles at him, he’d fallen asleep curled into Abe’s side, and woken up curled in Rahatiel’s arms. Sablo’s pressed against the older Power’s back, curled around Abe’s arm, Hamaliel laying on top of the second oldest Power, Abe’s arm curled around his waist.

“Hi, Raha…” Chayyliel rubs at his eyes again. “Sorry..”

“For what?”

He rubs at his nose. “For taking Sab’s spot.”

“You didn’t take Sab’s spot.” He squeezes him softly. “I pulled you over.”

Chayyliel looks up at the older angel. “You did?”

“Mhmm.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“Because, you’re my baby brother, and I wanted to sleep with you.” He squeezes him again. “You’re always so standoffish around me, I thought it would be best to pull you close while you were sleeping.”

Chayyliel smiles up at him, pressing his face to his chest, reaching up to curl his fingers in his flannel pajama top. “I missed you, Raha.”

“I missed you too, Chayy.” Rahatiel squeezes him again, pressing a kiss to his forehead, resting his chin on his curls. “When you came back, I was so happy, I thought we’d never see you again.”

“Merry Christmas, Raha.”

“Merry Christmas, Chayy.”

He didn’t say anything, but he’d awoken the moment they had, he’d just listened. Abraxos smiles at them, at their voices, blinking in the darkness, and he rubs a hand over Hamaliel’s back, turns to look over to the one on his right, Puriel snuffles softly, reaching up to scratch at his cheek sleepily, and settles back down, and he rights himself, closing his eyes, taking comfort in having his family back together for this special time of year.


	182. Dog Days Gone By (Nisroc & Erathaol)

He’d been sleeping when Father had called on him, requesting him come to the Throne room, and he nodded, climbing out of bed, shoving his feet into his boots, pulling his thick coat on, wrapping his scarf around his neck, as he made his way down the stairs to the training field below. Snow crunches under his boots as he makes the trek across the field, squinting through the heavy falling snowflakes, it’s a right blizzard out here, and he thinks to himself, Father better have a good reason to pull him from his bed and down into this blizzard.

But he makes his way through the snow, trudging down the Axis towards the Throne room, as was requested of him.

He makes his way up the stairs slowly, he doesn’t want to slip, and the doors cracked when he arrives at the top, allowing him to slip in with ease.

Father’s back is to him, He’s whispering down at someone soothingly, he can’t see who or what it is, but his curiosity is peeked.

“Father?”

He turns around at the sound of his voice, and He smiles at him, gesturing for him to come forward. “Hello, Nisroc, sorry to have pulled you out of bed, but I thought it necessary that this didn’t wait until morning.”

“That _what_ didn’t want until morning?”

“Come here, son, come here.” He waves him forward and he moves, coming to stand at His side, looking down into a very familiar set of golden eyes. “This is the calmest I’ve seen him this night.”

“ _Erathaol?”_

The hound sits up, whining softly, batting it’s paw in his direction. He steps forward, kneeling slightly, and curls his hands around the hound’s head. “Era?”

His hound barks softly, leaning forward to lick him on the nose, he smiles, scrunching his face up slightly, and presses a firm kiss to it’s nose. “I missed you so much, Era.”

Father rests a hand on his head and they both look up at Him. “Why don’t you take your pup home?”

Nisroc nods, standing once more. “I didn’t think to bring a blanket to bundle him up in, I didn’t know, I don’t want him to be cold.”

“Not to worry.” He snatches a blanket out of the air beside Him and holds it out. “Here you are.”

The Power smiles to Him in thanks, taking the blanket being offered, and curls it around his hound, grunting softly as he hefts him up into his arms. “Let’s go home, Era.” The hound barks softly, licking his cheek, and he chuckles, turning away slightly. “Alright, alright, I’m happy to see you too.”

Father smiles at them, patting him on the back lightly. “Be off with you two, it’s only going to snow harder as the night progresses.”

“Thank you, Father.” Nisroc turns to face Him. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome, my son.”

He turns, making their leave, carrying his hound out between the cracked door, the guards on the inside pulling it closed, most probably to keep the warmth in. He takes the steps down carefully, trudging back down the Axis, clomping through the snow covered training field, and makes his way up the stairs to the Pavilion above. Era whines softly, and he coos softly, rubbing his cheek over the side of it’s head lightly. “It’s alright, Era, we’re almost there.”

He makes his way through the Lounge and down the hall to his room, pushing the door open with his foot, he steps in, walking quietly across the floor to set his cargo on his bed, pulling the blanket up off from over him. “You wait right here.”

Erathaol whines as he turns away for a moment, to close his door and take off his boots, he hops off the bed to follow him. “Oh, Era,” he kneels slightly, petting his ears back. “I was coming right back.” He stands, gesturing to his bed. “Come on, puppy, let’s get in bed.” The hound follows him as he guides him back to his bed, hopping up on the end, walking across his bed to sit at the top. “I have a surprise for you.” The hound whines, pawing at the sheets, and he chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed, and turns, reaching into the bottom drawer of his nightstand. “Did you miss this?”

The hound barks softly at the sight of it, jumping forward to take the stuffed bunny from him, chewing on it’s ear gently, he crawls back over to his side and lays down, nuzzling his snout against his stuffed bunny, his beloved stuffed bunny. “I thought you would.” He sits up as the Power turns in bed and lays back against the pillows, pulling the blankets back up over himself. “Come here, puppy, come here.” Era whines softly, bringing his bunny with him, as he crawls up under the Power’s arm, laying his bunny and his head on his chest. “I’m never letting you go again.”

He stretches out on his side, resting his head in the crook of the Captain’s shoulder, licking at his cheek lightly, snuffing softly. “That’s right.” A large warm hand rubs at his belly. “Never again.” He presses a kiss to the hound’s snout. “You’re having your favorite for breakfast, steak and potatoes, you just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it for you.”

Erathaol snuffles again, licking his cheek once more, and settles down.

Nisroc rubs his belly again. “Let’s get some sleep, puppy.”


	183. Cast The First Stone (Raphael, Iaoth, & Tagas)

Iaoth and Tagas circle each other, one is never far from the other, they defend each other, when the Archangel isn’t there to deflect anyone who has less then respectful intentions with the two young miracle workers. Raphael can’t be around to watch over them all the time, he left his Virtues in charge of overseeing them when he was not around to do so himself, but even they could find themselves distracted.

He’d been filling cups with water from his ceramic pitcher when he heard it, the sound of skin hitting skin, and his head flit around, to see Tagas stumble backwards, a hand pressing to his cheek, and he feels rage overwhelm him, someone had _struck_ Tagas, the one who only wanted to _help_ people. He turns, making his way over, cutting around healers going about their duties, slipping between and around them fluidly, clutching the handle of his pitcher the closer he got.

_“Ouch! You little cretin! I expected an actual healer to tend to me! Not some insect! They should have left you in the pit they found you in!”_

Iaoth pulls his arms back, clutching the handle of the pitcher, his strides picking up in pace when he sees the warrior raise a hand, to backhand his friend again. Tagas cowers away, and jumps around when it makes impact, a loud _crack_ echoes over the noise in the Infirmary, when he swings his pitcher around and it collides with the side of the warrior’s face, there’s enough momentum in the swing, enough force, that it knocks the larger angel back, stumbling backwards, he hits the edge of the bed, and tumbles over to the other side.

“Iao!”

His pitcher shattered on impact, and he jumps forward, chucking the jagged handle at the warrior staring up at him. “You classist _bitch_!” The taller boy climbs up on the bed, stalking forward, as though to jump at the warrior he’d assaulted. “Tagas _just_ as good as _any_ healer!” He shouts when arms curl around his waist and tug him back, kicking out as he’s lifted off his feet, and turned away. “Let me go! Let me _go!”_

“Iaoth, that’s enough.” The deep voice of the Archangel brings his struggles to a halt, and he’s turned away and set back on his feet, he watches around the Archangel’s arm as healers rush up to the warrior on the other side of the bed. “Don’t look at him, look at me.” Dark fingers curl under his chin and turn his head around, his eyes meeting the emerald green of the Healer. Raphael frowns down at him. “Did you attack him?”

“He struck Tagas!”

“He _what_?” His eyes turn from him to his friend, and Tagas nods, his hand still pressed to his cheek. Raphael steps away from him, but Iaoth stumbles as he drags him along, to stand before the little training healer. “Let me see.” He gently pulls his hand away, frowning as he assesses the damage, there’s a bruise forming over his cheek, a slice under his eye from the edge of a ring, and he dabs at a drop of blood with the cuff of his sleeve. He turns, glaring at the warrior as he’s helped to his feet, he makes it a point to treat all patients, but his patience is tested when his healers are assaulted. “Escort him out, we are not treating him.” The healers turn to look at him in surprise. “You can explain to Nisroc and Puriel as to why I sent you back in that condition.”

The Archangel turns away from him, tugging the one boy along, and guiding the other around gently. “Come along, you two.” Tagas follows him dutifully, comforted by the hand pressing to the small of his back, and Iaoth stumbles forward to walk at his side. Raphael leads them to the back of the infirmary, passed the beds, down the hall to his office.

Tagas sits in one chair, Iaoth takes the other, and he steps around behind his desk to collect a bottle of disinfectant, a rag, and a bandage, before returning to his side. “This is going to sting a bit.” The little healer in training nods mutely, clenching his eyes closed when he reaches out with the rag to dab at the cut on his cheek, and hisses when it stings. Raphael hums softly, and reaches for the bandage, placing it over the cut gently. “There we are, good as new.”

He smiles up at the Healer. “Thanks, Rapha.”

“Not a worry.” He pinches his nose lightly and turns to his friend, Tagas follows his movement. “As for you, I will let it go this time, but next time, you won’t be so lucky. I expect you to tell one of us, do you understand me?”

Iaoth nods lightly, looking down to his lap. “Yea, I understand.”

“Good.” The young miracle worker looks up when he pinches his nose too. “Let’s go home.”


	184. Still His Little Kleptomaniac (Jahoel & Thaddeus)

“Thaddy,” he looks up from the book he’s ready to look to the voice calling his name and he smiles. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Jahoel, of course, come here.” Thaddeus lifts his arms, and the little thief smiles, darting forward, closing the door behind him quickly, and climbs up under the covers, crawls up over the Warden’s legs, and pops his head out between his arms. He lowers his arms, resting his book upside down on his lower back, and curls him in a hug. “Is everything okay?”

“You forgot about me, Thaddy, and I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to feel bad, but you forgot.”

“Oh, little thief, I’m so sorry.” He squeezes him lightly, scratching through his curls, and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Thaddy.”

“No, it’s not, little jaguar, it’s not okay. I’m so sorry.” Thaddeus feels guilt weigh on his heart. “I’ll clear my schedule and we’ll spend all day together tomorrow, alright?”

The boy looks up at him hopefully. “Really?”

“Of course, always, we’ll spend all night and all day together, just you and me.”

“Thanks, Thaddy,” he hugs himself back down around the older angel. “You’re the best.”

“Anything for you, little one.” Thaddeus presses another kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want me to read to you?”

“Will you scratch my head, too?”

“Of course, I will, my little kitten.” He scratches at his head softly. “Like that?”

“Yea, yea,” Jahoel nuzzles closer, kneading into his chest lightly, purring softly like a content little kitten. “Just like that.”

“Alright, you settle on down, I’ll read, and scratch your head, sound like a plan?”

The youth yawns softly, closing his eyes gently. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“I thought so, too.”

Jahoel settles closer. “Thaddy, can we have hotcakes for breakfast?”

“We sure can, little kitten, we sure can.”


	185. Relearning Old Lessons (Zaveriel, Akriel, & Oren)

_"ZAVERIEL!"_

He drops the vial he's holding at his name being called in such a manner, with such a tone, and little Araton jumps forward to keep it from shattering on the floor and spilling it's contents, looking up at him with wide eyes. "What did you do?"

Zed leans over her shoulder for the vial she holds, chuckling at his youngest brothers expression, one of shock and horror mixed all into one. "That doesn't sound good." He reaches forward with his free hand and pats the youngest Virtues cheek. "I'd take this time as your headstart."

He doesn't need to be told twice, the young man turns in quick succession, darting for the exit.

The Apothecary turns to the other end, an amused smile playing at his features as his Captain and brother make their appearance, dripping some sort of paint on the floor, where their baby brother gets all his materials, they don't know, but he never fails to produce, and it never fails to amuse.

They look about, eyes searching for their target, and the predators eyes meet those of the preys in a mere moment. Zaveriel's eyes widen as theirs narrows, and as he turns to bolt away, they make their way forward. Oren and Akriel on are a mission, and make their way through the crowd fluidly, he waves at them as they pass but they pay him no mind.

Araton giggles softly at their appearance from behind her hand and he smiles down at her.

Near the door, Gzel laughs at her guardians appearance, pointing at him as she bends forward in her immense humored state.

But they pay them all no mind, focused on the back of their retreating prey, vowing not to lose him in the crowd.

Zaves makes the chase all the way down the stairs, taking them two at a time, hoping down them as quick as he can, listening to the thundering of their boots as they slowly draw closer. He stops, pauses, only once at the bottom of the staircase, turning to peer at them over his shoulder, and yelps as he jumps forward when he's almost caught, darting into the crowd that is the Axis.

He peers over his shoulder every so many moments, to see if they're still there, of if he's lost them yet. Akriel and Oren have had practice in keeping up with him, they've all had practice, but them two especially. They dart through the crowd fluidly, people jumping out of their way, clearing the path, turning to watch as the two Virtues make chase after the young healer trying to evade their grasp.

He skids as he turns so suddenly, nearly falling over to the side, but he manages to catch himself even if he stumbles a bit as he does, darting up the dirt path that leads to the Garden. He can hide there, hide up in the trees, wait until they give up, for the time being, and hide out there until something happens that causes them to forget why they're chasing him in the first place.

The ponds and streams are all fresh water and there's fresh fruits in the treetops, he'll make it a good month before he has to return to the Loft, and by then something will have come up and they'd have forgotten all about this prank he'd played against them.

Joshua waves at him as he enters, and he spares the Gardener a quick wave in return, a flash of a smile, as he darts into the thick tree line. Jumping over stumps and upturned tree trunks, he peers over his shoulder again, yelping at the distance that is quickly being closed between himself and his predators.

Akriel and Oren are still fast on his tail, he hasn't managed to shake them, and their closing in quicker then he's beginning to manage to evade.

He's midair, midjump over an upturned tree trunk, when one of them manages to get a hold on the back of his tunic. He flails as he's yanked back, mid jump, falling through the air, he barrels back into someone and they go toppling over to the grass below.

They wrestle for a minute, he's fighting for his life, grappling for freedom, but he's flipped over onto his back and they manage to pin him despite his best efforts.

Oren straddles his waist, and from above him, Akriel kneels, fingers curled tightly around his wrists as he positions his hands above his head. They're all panting for breath from the extensive chase, he tests the grip on his wrists, and the fingers tighten their hold when he gives an experimental tug.

Oren sits back slightly, smiling down at him, hands resting lightly on his thighs as he falls into a comfortable position. "Hello, baby brother."

He returns the smile. "Hey, Ori, nice shade. Blue suits you." He earns himself a sharp jab to his belly and he yelps, for his cheekiness, he is in no position. "You're in no position to be so cheeky." His Captain, his older brother, reaches up to brush his hair back, looking down at his hand as he pulls it away to see it covered in blue paint. "But I absolutely _love_ what happens next, so by all means, be as cheeky as you want." He leans forward to smear his palm of blue paint over his baby brothers face, chuckling softly as he scrunches his face up, inhaling sharply. "It gives us even _more_ of a reason to torture you."

"H—Hey guys," he looks up from Oren to Akriel above him, and the specialist smiles down at him fondly. "Let's talk about this!"

"It's been some time since you've pranked us." Akriel leans forward slightly. "And, at the same time, no less." He adjusts his position, trapping his hands under his knees gently, and pokes him in both underarms, another yelp is pulled from him at the action. "We've neglected you terribly so, if you hadn't thought to think twice about it."

"It was our mistake," Oren draws his attention back to him, and he smiles, in the way that big brothers do when on the verge of torturing their younger brother to tears. "One that we'll be sure to rectify." He reaches for the bottom of his tunic, making a show of it, as he gently pulls it out from under the belt, pulling it up to reveal his toned pale belly to them both. "Let's get this out of the way, shall we?"

He knows them well, knows how they operate, and he shakes his head as Akriel helps him pull it up over his head, covering his face. Perpetually blindfolded, keeping him on edge for what's to come, it makes it that much worse because he doesn't know what to prepare himself for before it happens.

Fingers tap against his lower belly, ten in all, and he giggles lightly in anticipation from under his tunic.

"Listen to him giggle." His oldest brother sounds so amused. "We're not even doing anything yet." Ten fingers poke lightly into his belly and he chokes on his giggles. "He's like a fledgling."

He growls, bucking lightly, tugging harshly at his hands.

Two fingers poke at his right underarm and he squeaks, his growls overthrown by a wave of giggles, and he curls to the side, leaning away from the fingers. They jump from the right to the left and he jumps to the other side, they follow him, no matter which direction he goes, and his giggles become steadier with every relentless light poke.

"What should we do first, it's our move, and we have him right where we want him." A finger pokes under his belly button and he jolts. "He's _all_ ours."

The two fingers pull away from his underarms and he falls back, breathing deeply, it's the light touches that are the worst in his opinion.

"Try his belly out." Akriel's fingers brush over his curls. "It's always been your favorite."

Ten fingers scribble over his bare belly, and he snorts, arching his back as laughter spills from him. "Try his little belly out, you say?" He pinches at the skin on either side of his belly button. "What about it baby brother?" Zaveriel sucks in a deep breath, trying to suck his belly as much as he can. "Should I give your cute little belly some attention?"

Their younger brother shakes his head quickly, giggling breathlessly, it sounds like it did when he was just a small mischievous fledgling. He's still just as mischievous. Just not a fledgling anymore. And his reactions to their punishments haven't changed in the slightest. "Nohohoho!"

"No, why not?" He digs his fingers into his lower belly, and he shrieks brightly. "Could it be that your bitty little belly is ticklish?"

His older brother is teasing him, like he's some sort of fledgling, and it makes him growl again. "Stop teasing me!"

"Stop teasing you?" Fingers spider lightly in circles around his belly and he squirms with every stroke and poke. "It's fun to tease you." He growls again and bucks harshly. "You try and knock me off again and you're going to get it."

"He's thinking about it." Akriel sounds amused and strokes a finger down the side of his neck. "He wants to kick you."

"You do, baby brother?" Fingers poise themselves over the center of his belly and he stiffens. "Such naughty thoughts should be deterred."

"I do not!"

"He's definitely thinking it."

"Shut up, Ak! I am not!"

"He said _'shut up'_ to me." Akriel snorts.

Oren wiggles his fingers a bit and he shrieks again, squirming under his skillful tortures, jolting one way and then the other. "Would you like me to punish him for it?"

"I would appreciate it."

The fingers pull away and he sucks in a deep breath. "I'd be glad to." Theres a brief period of silence, stillness, neither one of the are touching him.

And then it happens.

Then he feels them.

A pair of warm lips press over his belly button and sit there.

They laugh at his reaction, despite nothing happening, and his reaction is to squeal brightly. "Such language gets you the beard, baby brother, I know how much you love it."

"Nonononono!"

He hates the beard! He's tried shaving it off, once, only once, Oren hadn't been amused and he hadn't laughed as hard as he had that one time, since then. Oren chuckles darkly, kissing his belly button lightly, and he squeals again. "Oh, yes, the beard."

He arches his back when he shakes his head and burrows in, rubbing his beard deep into his belly, nuzzling into the sensitive skin under his belly button. Fingers curl around his waist, to keep him from moving, as he takes a deep breath. Zaves _screams_ when he blows, shaking his head against his belly, boisterous laughter exploding from him. He moves from the center of his belly to the side, takes another deep breath, and repeats all over again.

"Wait, wait, Ori." Akriel's his saving grace, he loves Ak, he loves him so much. His chest heaves for air as his older brother pulls back, no doubt to look up at their brother, he doesn't see the look that's passed between them, and he doesn't need to, when Akriel speaks next. "Together."

Two lips, two beards, press into his belly. One from below, the other from above, and he just screams. He _screams_. Arching his back, tugging at his hands, bucking his hips. He screams with laughter, over and over again, until his laughter falls silent and tears gather in his eyes.

Fingers joining the mix soon enough. Ten digging into his waist and the others under his arms. He manages another scream, a loud bright echoing squeal, and his feet kick from behind his older brother.

This, this is the part where they're teaching their lesson, this is the part where they make sure he'll remember to think twice about pranking them. Individually or at the same time. That part doesn't matter. It's the big picture that matters.

His chest is heaving, he's breathless, giggling deliriously by the time they pull away. Akriel's knees move away from his hands, and Oren climbs up off his legs, he hears them chuckling at the mess they've made of their baby brother.

He just lays there, Zaves doesn't move an inch, arms still raised, fingers curled inwards slightly, tunic still pulled up over his face.

The young Virtues hears their knees pop as they kneel beside him, a hand rubs at his belly and he giggles wildly at its being there, completely overtaken by the torture he's just experienced. "Calm down, baby boy, we've finished."

Someone pulls his tunic back down, Akriel smiles down at him, patting his cheek lightly. "And I'm sure you'll remember to think twice next time too."

He just giggles still, softly, airily, and they smiled down at him adoringly. Oren brushes his curls back. "That was a bit mean." He holds his hands out, and waits for Zaves to nod slightly, before curling them under his arms and pulling him up. He's getting a bit big to carry around, but he's still just small enough, and he pulls him up as he stands, resting him lightly on his hip. "Lets get you tucked into a nice bed. You're completely spent."

Zaves nods weakly, laying his head down to rest on his older brothers shoulder, giggles starting to space out between each one.

They carry him out from the trees, Joshua shakes his head at the sight of them, turning back to his caretaking when Akriel wiggles his fingers at _him_ , and he watches as they disappear from his garden.

He'd be back.

Joshua would be prepared for it.


	186. The Usefulness Of Water (Orion & Akriel)

"Isn't he supposed to be doing his paperwork?"

The two girls stand behind him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders as he slumbers away peacefully, bent forward over his desk, over the paperwork he was meant to be completing. He had put it off until he couldn't put it off any longer, thus leaving him with a large mountain of files and papers to sift through and complete.

Gzel elbows her in the arm lightly, tapping her pitcher of water with her index finger, smiling that mischievous smile that often times gets _her_ under the torturous revenge of their guardian's skillful fingers. "I dare you to pour your pitcher of water on him."

"No way!" She shakes her head. "Last time I did that he said he'd go for my belly."

"Oooh, yea, he's rather good at that."

Orion nods slightly. "And you always manage to get away, leaving me stuck to take the brunt of it."

"You're right." She rubs her chin thoughtfully. "I _double_ dare you."

She curses her sister softly, definitely not loud enough to allow the others to hear and scold her for it, knowing that she can't back down from the challenge of a _double dare_. Orion tightens her grip on her Pitcher, not seeing the eyes that follow her as she steps forward, lifts the pitcher up over his head, and slowly tips it over. The water starts out slowly, dripping over the lip, and then it splashes harder.

Akriel jumps up, hitting his knee on the desk, his hair dripping in his face with the water from the pitcher. He wipes at his eyes, the healers around them laughing at the poor soaked Virtue, Gzel is cracking up behind them, bending at the waist in her laughter, as Orion calmly sets the pitcher down on the specialists desk.

He looks up at her with wide eyes. She smiles at him. "You fell asleep doing your paperwork, again."

"And, I don't know," he stands slowly. "You couldn't have just, oh, I don't know, just shaken my shoulder or something."

"I wasn't sure if that would work."

He narrows his eyes at her, and she takes a minute step back from him. "You're right. I should get back to work."

"You should?"

He nods, stalking forward carefully, brushing wet hair back out of his eyes. "You know what I'm going to work on?"

His quiet little healer shakes her head as she steps back another step, but he closes the distance between them with long strides, catching her by the wrist as she makes to turn. "I'm going to work on that little belly of yours."

"No!"

"Ooooh, yes." He tugs on her arm, she stumbles forward, falling over his shoulder. "I'm going to work _very_ hard."

Orion giggles from over his shoulder from anticipation, as though she can feel his beard rubbing against her bare belly, lips pressing playful kisses over every inch, fingers spidering all over the sensitive tummy surface.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

"I appreciate the apology." He squeezes her hip lightly and she shrieks softly. "But, no, it would not help you in anyway."

He nods at his Captain and Archangel as he walks passed them, slowly ascending the stairs to the Loft above them, slowly making his way through the Lounge, down the hall towards their room. He kicks the door closed behind him, out of his boots, and leans forward to pull her from over her shoulder.

Orion flails as she falls back, bouncing on the mattress under her, giggling as her guardian slowly crawls up over her on the bed, laying himself over her legs, he curls his fingers in the hem of her tunic. "Let's get this out of our way."

"AhAhAhAhAk nohohoho!"

He pushes her tunic up to reveal her shaking, giggle filled, tummy. "Where do I want to start?" She struggles under him, trying to free herself, and he smiles down at her belly. "Found it." And buries his face in her belly.

The little healer squeals brightly. It's the first of many squeals.

"AhahahahahAhahahah! AhAHAHAHK NOhohoho!" She pushes against his head as hard as she can, squealing again when he shakes his head, rubbing his beard against her belly. "I warned you, didn't I, I warned you."

"Yohohhour sohohoho colohohohd!"

"Who's fault is that?"

"Yohohohhu shohohouldn't hahahahhaave fahahahallen asleheheheheep!"

"You know, I'm not working hard enough if you're able to be cheeky."

Orion curls her fingers in his dirty blonde hair. "NOhohoho! Nohohot thahahahat!"

He chuckles. Takes a deep breath. And blows the first raspberry.


	187. Rescheduled Appointments (Raphael, Oren, Elijah, & Ezekiel)

He presses a finger to his lips in the universal sign to keep quiet, and the Gardener returns the gesture, chuckling softly as he turns back to his work. He steps along the path quietly, as to not disturb the little ones in the mischief they are making, having come to seek them out after they missed their scheduled appointment for their checkups. It's a common game they play, they don't usually come to their appointed appointments, leaving him the task of hunting them down where ever they may be.

It's no trying task. The two of them are little fruit thieves. More then not, they can usually be found in the Garden, hiding under the Gardener's quiet care, away from those who mean to make them go to their appointed appointments. It's not a task that angers him, he enjoys these days, the both of them are delightful, quite an adorable set of twins.

They manage their way out of trouble quite easily.

Their giggling gives them away, as it usually does, as he creeps up behind them. He bends to snatch up from the ground about the waist and straightens up to catch the little partner in crime about the waist right off the trunk of the tree.

"Hello, little ones."

"You found us!"

He chuckles, bouncing the little one on his left arm. "I find you _every_ time."

"Rapha I can't reach it!"

The boy on the right points up at the apple hanging above them. One of the few who can eat from the Tree of Life and not perish, a fitting treat seeing as he was created to guard the thing, he was always climbing between the limbs for the beloved tasty treat.

"Only good little angels get tasty treats, are you a good little angel, Eli?"

Little Elijah leans up to kiss his cheek sweetly. "I'm a very good little angel, Rapha."

"Are you, little Elijah? He bounces him on his right arm, and he giggles brightly. He turns to the other one. "How about you, Ezekiel, are you a good little angel?"

Little Ezekiel leans up to kiss is cheek too. "I'm a very good little angel too, Rapha."

"Are you now?" He turns them around, away from the tree, heading them back down the path. "Do you know what good little angels do?"

Elijah reaches up and around to poke his cheek, giggling happily. "They eat tasty apples."

"No." He shakes his head, smiling at the Gardener as they pass him on their way out. "They come to their appointments like the good little angels they are."

They walk down the Axis together, the little fledglings waving at every that passes them, the others wave in return, chattering excitedly between each other as two good little brothers do.

"We like keeping you in shape, Rapha."

Elijah giggles at his brothers statement, and the Healer makes a show of it, mouth hanging ajar, eyes wide, he comes to a halt as he looks down at the giggling fledgling. Ezekiel giggles up at him, a little finger reaching up to poke him in the cheek.

"Are you trying to say I'm unfit?"

"Nooo!" He shrieks when he dugs his fingers into his waist, squirming in his hold. "We keep you fit!"

"It's like playing hide and seek!"

He chuckles, bouncing them both, and they shriek with excitement. "You two are lucky I'm so fond of you."

The archangel chased the fingers that tapped against his lips, pressing a kiss to them after a moment, glancing down at the playful fledgling.

"Yes, little Eli?"

"No ouchies?"

He shakes his head. "No ouchies. Just a regular look over."

"Then apples?"

The Healer chuckles, taking the first step up to his Infirmary. "Yes, and then you can have your apples."

Both fledglings cheered excitedly, causing the ones around them to turn and look, Oren turns with them at their cheering, smiling in greeting. "There you two are, we've been looking everywhere for you."

"Ori!" They both chime together, reaching out for the Captain of the Virtues, he chuckles softly and reaches out in return. Little Ezekiel pokes him on the nose as his little partner in crime leans back against his arm. "What you doin here, Ori?"

"Who do you think was going to help with your checkups?"

The Virtue carries them over to an empty bed, setting them on their feet, he steps back and crosses his arms. "Alright you two, we're going to do this and do this right, you hear me?"

Both boys giggle, playfully saluting him. "Yes, sir!"

Raphael chuckles at the pair of them, stepping up next to his Captain, crossing his arms loosely. "You take one and I'll take the other?"

He nods. "That sounds like the perfect plan." The Virtue points at the two of them. "Which one do I want?"

They both raise their hands because they're just so cheeky.

"No, no, I can only take one of you."

Little Ezekiel raised his hand higher. "Me!"

"I'll take you!"

"Okay." Despite him saying he was only taking one of the, he clapped his hands to both, and they stood at attention. "Show me your muscles." He raised his arms, flexing in the manner he wished for them to, and they mimicked him.

Raphael chuckled as his Captain leaned forward, giving each little muscle a playful squeeze, a playful mock of surprise crossing his features. "You guys are strong, aren't you?"

"We're tough!"

"Like the Powers!"

"Alright, let's check those reflexes." The Healer stepped up beside the Virtue. "Show me your bellies."

Both fledglings lifted their little maroon tunics and he reached forward swiftly to wiggle his fingers over their little bellies. They giggle brightly, falling back on the bed, tugging their tunics back down again to halt any further attacks.

It worked, if only for the moment.

Oren held up his hand. "Let's check those eyes, how many fingers?"

"Five!"

"A hundred!"

He kneels before Ezekiel. "Did you just say I have one hundred fingers, Zeke?" The fledgling giggles, nodding in affirmation, squealing brightly when he digs his fingers into his belly. "I had _five,_ mister."

The Healer shakes his head in amusement as he stands back up, crossing his arms lightly. "All done."

"Done?"

"No more?"

Both little fledgling hop off the bed, one coming to hug the Virtue around the waist, and the other the Archangel, both looking up at them with the most practiced expression of puppy eyes they've ever laid witness to.

"Apples now?"

"Yes, we can get apples now."


	188. Angelic Babysitters (Little Josh & The Virtues

"There you are!"

He shrieks with laughter as fingers curl around his ankles and tug him out from under the bed, lifting him from the floor, hanging upside down as he's lifted to gaze into the eyes of the one who was playing with him in the bustling infirmary.

"You got away longer that time, Joshua."

"You still found me though."

The angel chuckles, swinging him by his ankles, and then he tosses him up. Joshua shrieks in excitement, winding his arms and kicking wildly, huffing at the sudden catch from midair as he falls back down again.

"Your giggling gave you away." He settles the book in the crook of one arm and wiggles the fingers of his free hand in his belly. "Just like it did every time before that."

The boy giggles madly, reaching for the fingers attacking his belly, squirming as much as one could in the position that he was in. "Orihihihi!"

"What?" He stops his attack for a moment and the boy curls his little fingers around his. "I'm just showing this belly the love that it deserves." And digs his fingers back in. The little human boy shrieks with laughter, kicking his little legs out, trying in vain to pull the hand off his belly. The bruises had long since faded, just little whispers of color now, and with their dwindling they worked on the second most important thing, his smile, his youth, the childlike wonder and innocence.

He was the baby of the Infirmary.

The Virtue chuckles when the boy squeals brightly, having found a particularly sensitive spot on his little chubby belly, and lets him lift his hand away from his attack. "My, my, you've gotten strong, haven't you?" He wiggles his fingers midair, and the boy shrieks, it makes him laugh softly. "I'm not even touching you, you silly little bear." His hand slowly lowers, and the boys giggles grow harder, their quantity growing drastically. "I'm gonna get you."

"Orihihih! Nohoho!"

"I'm gonna get that little belly."

The little fingers curled around his tighten, the boy straining to stop his hand from lowering anymore, giggling as he wiggles his fingers again. "It's coming. It's almost there."

"Orihihhi!"

He presses his palm over his belly, wiggling his fingers in, the boy shrieks, squealing brightly as he arches his back. "I tried to warn you. My hands taken on a mind of its own." He reaches down slightly to squeeze at his thighs lightly, little Joshua squeals again and kicks his feet. "I can't control it." He curls his fingers into a claw and spiders them up his free side. Joshua squeals again, shrieking with laughter, and curls closer to him as he tries to get away from his fingers. "It just wants to give you tickles."

"Orihihihi! Nohohoho!"

"What?" He reaches up and scratches a finger lightly under his chin, the boy giggles these adorable high pitched giggles and scrunches up like a turtle, shrieking when he jumps back down to his little belly. "We played your game. I want to play mine now." He lets the boy lift his hand again, giggling breathlessly, and he chuckles down at the giggly little boy. "I'll cut you a deal, because I'm so nice, you have to say I'm your favorite big brother."

Little Joshua giggles airily, nodding frantically. "Yohohou myhyhy faahahahhavorite!"

Oren pulls his hand free from those little fingers, curling his fingers under his arm, and the other hand under his other arm, he lifts the little boy up over his head. "Your favorite _what_?"

The little human boy giggles. "My favorite big brother."

"Damn right I am." He lowers his arms slightly, to toss him up above his head, and Joshua shrieks excitedly as children are wont to do when tossed up in the air. The Captain catches the boy by the middle, lifting him up again, he curls his little feet around his shoulders and straightens as much as he can. The dark blonde man chuckles at him, stretching his arms out as he lays his down softly midair, Joshua giggles and curls his legs around his stomach, and he pulls him back in, curling his arms under his bottom as little fingers curl around the back of his neck. "You're my favorite baby brother, baby boy."

The angel leans forward to kiss his small nose. "Do you want to go see if Zed has any juice?"

His human companion nods happily. "Yes, please."

He chuckles, nodding to the boy's request, and carries him across the threshold of the Infirmary, to the apothecary's workstation just across the way. Zed looks up as they approach, eyes wide at their sudden arrival, but he smiles at the boy in greeting quick enough. Pausing in his work, his young apprentice having the day off to do what she wanted, the apothecary curls his fingers around the edge of the work bench and leans forward. "Here for some juice?" He smiles when the boy nods quietly and reaches for the shelf next to him, where a small sippy cup sits, and he picks it up and holds it out to the boy. "Grape and apple, just as you like it."

Little Joshua reaches out for the cup with both hands. "Thank you, Z."

"You are most welcome, little guy." He reaches forward to pat the boys cheek lightly, winking at his brother, Oren smiles. "And, some chamomile mixed in there as well. Naptime's coming up, after all."

The human boy stops his sipping of his beloved drink and looks between them. "Naptime?"

They share a nod, and Oren bounces him gently, nodding up at him. "Nap time. You get cranky if you don't get your nap. We'll finish our juice, take a bathroom break, and find you a cozy bed to take your nap in."

"I like naptime."

Zed chuckles softly, leaning against his workbench carefully, and crosses his arms loosely. "We know you do."

Little Joshua looks down at the big brother holding him and pulls his cup away for a moment. "I can nap with bear, right?"

"Who else would be your naptime companion?"

The little human smiles at the two angels, a sight they'd always be elated to see, and starts sucking at his juice again. Oren smiles at him, then turns to his brother, Zed raises an eyebrow. "When's Raph returning, again?"

"Sometime tonight."

Their little human brother looks between them as they talk, quietly drinking at his juice, listening to every word rather attentively. The council had convened some days ago for a matter that none of the rest of them were privy to and the Healer had left his little boy in the care of his Virtues, they took rather good care of him, a messenger had sent word that their Healer would be returning to them soon, the update had been given just this morning. As much as Joshua liked staying with his big brothers, he missed Rapha, he couldn't wait for him to come back.


	189. Taking Care Of The Carer (Raphael & Jeremiah)

He hummed absently as he walked down the empty hall of the rebuilt Pantheon, their home was even more beautiful then it was before, he checked in on the fledglings as he made his way down the hall towards his destination. His destination was a small room at the end of the hall, the door was always closed, the occupant kinder then he often came off as, always working late into the night and rising early in the day.

His humming continued as he made his way to the door, standing just before it, he could hear the rustle inside of someone moving about and doing as they pleased. He gripped the door handle tightly, his hand shaking softly, and turned it to the side. The lock unclicked from the latch and he was able to pull the door open to gain entrance.

The query of his nightly search stands just before him, reading through a book spread open on a vast work bench, bottles and jars and vials lay scattered around him, ingredients placed all around in an organized chaotic mess.

"Hello, Jeremiah."

He nods to the Grigori's apothecary. "Hello, Semyaza."

The Captain leans forward against his work bench, his eyes taking on a concerned light, as he looks his younger brother over. They weren't separated by many years, Jeremiah was younger only by a few, but he took his position as the elder very seriously.

"Miah, I'm worried about you."

"There is nothing to worry over, dear brother." The quiet Choir Elder closed the door softly behind him, the smallest of clicks indicating the latch catching the lock again. "Everything is as it should be. I am thankful."

"Miah, I am not so blind as to not see you're breaking at the seams." The dark haired Grigori gestures to him as a whole. "You're _shaking_."

Jeremiah looks down for a moment, taking a deep breath, and nods his head as he looks back up to his older brother. "There is a chill in the air."

"Not nearly cold enough to make you shiver like that."

"Yaza, please, I only come for my vial."

The tall Grigori nods, crossing his arms tightly, looking down at his work bench. "Miah, what I'm making you, it is only a _temporary_ fix, you need more help than I can offer."

"I am fine, Yaza, I appreciate your concern." The gentle Choir Elder crosses away from the door, to stand before the work table, and gazes up at his older brother. "I just need something to take the edge off, Yaza, that is all. I am fine."

Semyaza shakes his head slowly, looking back down again, leaning forward against the edge of his work table. "Miah, I want you to know, I only did this to help you."

He tilts his head. "Did what, brother?"

"You left me no choice." He looks back up at him, his expression pained, as though he had betrayed him in some manner. "If you wouldn't help yourself, then you left me no choice but to step in, you need more help then I can offer you."

"I don't understand," he shakes his head. "What did you do?"

"Jeremiah."

He stills, his chin dipping slightly, to the side, as he registers the voice. It's deep, melodious, he would know that voice anywhere he went, it was the voice of the one who had raised him, the voice that led him out of the Prison after the first war, and after the second. He now understood what his Grigori brother meant, what he had done, he hadn't even seen _him_ when he entered.

The younger looks back to the elder, Semyaza looks guilty. "You left me no choice, Miah."

"Jeremiah, look at me, please." He turns slowly, turns around, and finally sees where he stands. His Choir Master, his old guardian, the one who had cared for him since he had been a small babe just created, stands there beside the door. He understands how he had missed him, he'd only been focused on getting his tonic, he hadn't thought that there would have been anyone else in there with them. "Miah," his tone is gentle, as though he's speaking to a spooked fledgling, and his eyes look him over carefully. "How long has this been going on?"

He doesn't speak, he doesn't dare admit it, instead he looks to his feet quietly.

"Yaza?"

"Nearly a month."

The Morningstar frowns as he watches his Choir Elder. "Miah, you're shaking." He gestures to his side, he is not alone, Jeremiah follows his gesture to the Archangel next to him, the Healer smiles at him gently. "Miah, you need more help than I can offer you, I want you to go with Raph, he can help you more than I can, you need to allow yourself to be taken care of, now."

"I appreciate all of your concern, I truly do, but I am fine." He looks between both Archangels. "I just need a bit of help sometimes."

"Jeremiah," the Healer steps forward slightly, it's then that he notices the blanket draped over his arm, his eyes flit from the blanket to the electric blue eyes of the Archangel. "I do not have to be as observant as I am to see that you are not well, there is no shame in admitting you need help, you've been shaking since you've entered."

Still, he shakes his head softly, he can't help that he's shaking. He cannot stop it, and it's not for lack of trying, he needs the tonic to take the edge off.

It hurts.

 _Everything_ hurts.

"Miah," he looks over his shoulder to his older brother. "Miah, you take care of _everyone_ , you've are the strongest angel I've ever _known_. Let someone take care of _you_ now."

Jeremiah takes a deep breath, nodding his head gently, he just needed something to take the edge off. That's it. "Alright." He looks back to his Master and the Healer. "I'll come. Just," he looks to his Master, "please make sure the little ones are taken care of."

Lucifer nods softly. "Everything will be just fine."

He nods, and the Healer takes that as his permission, stepping forward for him. He shakes the blanket out, drapes it over his shoulders, and curls his arm around his shoulders gently. "Everything's going to be just fine." The Choir Elder nods, looking down to his feet for a moment, and in the next he returns his gaze to his Master's. "I'm sorry."

"Don't ever be sorry for needing help, Miah, never."

Raphael looks over his head to the Grigori behind them. "Thank you, Yaza." He just nods to the Archangel silently. He turns to look at his brother. "We will take our leave." The Morningstar nods, watching them closely as the Healer guides them from the Captain's room. Once the door clicks shut, he turns to his apothecary. "Yaza, what was it you were making for him?"

"Pain relievers."

…

The Infirmary is quiet in the night, he is the only new patient that enters at this hour, everyone else in their care is already fast asleep in their beds. The only ones who walk around are the healers, checking in on their sleeping patients, making sure they are all comfortable and taken care of. He sees Oren guiding a young healer to an empty bed, the little one making shaky hand movements, he knows the silent speak, the young ones cannot head to sleep until their elders do, but that does not mean they will not put them to bed until that time comes.

The Archangel guides him to an empty bed, the blankets folded back, a clean tunic and a pair of trousers folded and resting on the pillow.

"Get yourself changed, little Miah, and we will take a look at you."

He nods, shrugging the blanket off his shoulders, leaning forward for the trousers, slipping them on first, and when he reaches for the tunic, a gentle dark hand stays him. "Leave the tunic for now." He nods, standing back up, and turns to the Healer for further instruction. "Sit, sit, little Miah." He bends at the knee, reaching a shaking hand out to catch himself, and sits on the edge of the bed as tenderly as he can. The Healer kneels before him, curling long fingers over his knees, looking at him imploringly. "What can I do for you, little Miah?"

"I..I am in so much pain."

Raphael nods gently. "What causes you such pain, Miah?"

"My wings."

He nods again. "Let's take a look."

Jeremiah nods softly, allowing the Healer to stand again, guide him around with a gentle hand on his shoulder, he's curled around and laid on his stomach, his arms curled under his head and a blanket is curled up to his waist. A gentle hand presses to the back of his head. "I'm going to release your wings, alright?"

He nods again, hiding his face in his arms, feeling the rush that is in releasing ones wings from the metaphysical plane they keep them on and into the physical. There's no quick intake of breath, no gasps, no indication of horror, just a sad little sigh. "Oh, little Miah." He pets the back of his head gently. "We'll get you well taken care of."

"Here's the tonic you wanted."

Jeremiah looks over his arm at the new voice, he knows that voice, him and Yaza are rather close. Zed smiles down at him, holding a small vial out to him, and says nothing on the state of his wings. "Here you go, Miah, it'll help with the pain."

He takes the vial, downing it in one gulp. "Thank you, Zed."

"Always, Miah."

"Zed would you please fetch Oren and Akriel for me?"

"Of course."

Fingers rub over the edge of his left wing and he whines softly. "And have them bring a basin of water and some sponges."

"Of course."

Jeremiah looked over his shoulder, to see the state of his wings, and gave a small whine of shame. It was always his wings that they went after, they'd been clipped during the first war, healed again, and then clipped during the second war, it was always his wings. The archangel looks back down at him, sitting on the edge of his bed, he rubs his fingers over the back of his neck comfortingly. "We'll take good care of you, Miah, the tonic should kick in here in a few moments, when it does you get some sleep. We'll have your wings taken care of by the morning."


	190. Spread Your Wings (Raphael, Gadreel, & Abner)

"Okay," he brings his hands together as he spies over at the two of them, they'd put it off as long as they could, but the time had come that they couldn't put it off any longer. "I want to look over their wings. I don't expect it to be an easy feat." He smiled, there was only one who could make the younger of the two prisoners so peaceful, there was no regret to be had in pushing their beds together. "We are going to treat this like their wings have been clipped." He looks to his apothecary. "Zed, I need something to numb them while we work." The Virtue nods, heading off the create what's been asked of him, the sooner its completed the better it is. He turns to his Captain "Oren, you are going to aid me, I need you to gather the necessary supplies. Oils and rags, plenty of rags, lavender soaps, brushes, lotions, razors, and bandages." His Captain nodded, heading off to gather what was needed, he turns to his mental specialist. "Akriel, help him, we need a basin of warm water." He nods, heading off to help his brother gather their necessary things.

Raphael turns to the rest of them. "The rest of you continue on with your duties. Things should run as normal as possible here."

The others nod at his soft command, turning to return to their patients and duties, leaving the Healer with the task of telling their most important what they intended to complete that day. Raphael rubs at his cheek lightly, nodding to himself, as he turns around to cross over to their bed. Abner looks up at him at his approach, stroking his fingers down the back of his brother's neck, Gadreel's eyes are closed, expression peaceful, nearly asleep under his older brothers gentle touch.

"What is on today's agenda?" They've been here for quite some time now, and they still had some time to come. The Archangel smiles at him tenderly. "I want to look over your wings."

Abner nods understandingly, looking down at his younger brother under him, resting peacefully against his chest. "Look over Reel first," he scratches the back of his scalp lightly and the younger sentry nuzzles his cheek against his chest lightly. "He took the brunt of it all. They were harsher on him then they were on me."

The archangel nods gently, kneeling down, the young sentry stiffens under his touch. "Gadreel?" His eyes open, still cloudy from the peaceful slumber he'd been drawn into, but aware of his surroundings. "I'm going to look over your wings, alright?"

He whines softly, ducking back into his older brother, and Abner curls his arms around him gently, rubbing at his scalp and neck. "It's okay, Reel. It's okay. I'm going to stay with you, okay?" He nods languidly against his chest. "I'm not going anywhere. They're going to help you. They're going to make you feel better, I know it hurts, they're going to help." Gadreel sighs deeply, slowly being pulled back into that peaceful state of _almost_ slumber. "Good angel, very good."

Raphael rests his hand on the back of his head, leaning forward slightly, Gadreel's eyes flutter open briefly before the close again, but their gazes meet for a single moment. "I'm going to release your wings, alright?"

He waited for his traumatized patient to give him his nod of consent, and when he does, he stands back to his full height, and makes a semi complicated hand gesture of his shoulders, releasing the wings from where they are kept on the metaphysical plain when they're not being used, out into the physical plain that they live in now. The urge to release a small gasp at the sight of them is an urge that he holds back with great difficulty, as his eyes slowly rove over the injured appendages, taking them in for all that they were worth. He wanted to commit their sight to memory, something he wanted to remember even in the darkest of nights, the consequences of compromised judgement.

Abner looks up from his brother's peaceful expression, if not a bit pained, and peers over his head to see the extent of the damage. His expression saddens as he gazes upon the extensive damage, he had never seen them before, Gadreel had kept them tucked away when he wasn't in the back room, their torture chamber, all he knew of it was the screams that echoed down the silent hall, save for the soft moans from the other prisoners, he knew the pain from the deep gut wrenching screams he'd let out.

And then he'd return.

Hanging limply between two hardened guards, they open his cell door and throw him in, he falls limply on the cold stone ground and doesn't move again. The guards laugh at him as they slam the cell door shut and leave him there. He'd watch the younger sentry just lay there, as still as the dead, and whisper to him through the bars of his cell, hoping for some sort of response, anything, even the slightest twitch of a finger, anything to know he was still alive.

His only response was the smallest twitch of his fingers.

It wasn't until more prisoners had started coming, more then the Prisons could hold, and they'd been thrown into the same cell that he finally got to meet his neighbor. Gadreel had flinched away from him at first, both of them having retreated to their own corners, away from the other, having been trained that others meant pain. You were safer alone. Safer on your own. It had been after one of his own torture sessions that the first move had been made between them, he'd been laying against his corner, curled up as tight as he could manage, when shaking fingers curled around his limp hand. He'd looked up from under his arm, to see the pale fingers wrapped around his, and curled his around his in return.

They grew from there, Gadreel eventually made it into his corner, huddled between his legs, leaning against his sore and abused chest.

He returns to petting the back of his head, ducking down, he doesn't want to see his baby brother's wings in that manner.

His wings are a shell of their former glory; the lower parts, where the primaries had been, were bare. The feathers had been yanked free without a care, the skin red and inflamed, even after all this time. The guards were not healers, they did not care enough to aid them, and thus did not do anything to keep them clean from infection. Butts of feathers still poked free, the shafts of a few sticking out like pale thing twigs, the wax covering the infected skin was thick and charred, as it had been hardened, excruciatingly for the one unfortunate enough to be on the other end. Welts were hastily scabbed over, they would scar, the scabs were thick, they'd been broken many, many times. More then half of his secondaries were yanked free, some broken halfway down the shaft, others broken at the quill. There are long lines, cut deep into the flesh, thin lines, whip marks. Hooks are curled under the arm of the wing.

The archangel closed his eyes for a moment, turning away from them briefly, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He set a hand on the sleepy sentry's shoulder lightly. "We can fix this."

He left them for a moment, crossing away from them for his apothecary's workstation, he was busy making the strong pain reliever he had requested.

Zed looked up at his approach.

"Zed, I need a sleeping drought, the strongest one you've got." He peers over his shoulder. "This is not going to be very pleasant and he should not be awake for it."

Zed nods, turning away from his cauldron, to the shelf beside him, and sifts through the vials he has there. He sifts through them for a brief moment, and finds the one he's looking for, turning to pass it to his archangel. He takes it in hand, nodding in appreciation. "Thank you, Zed, how is the pain reliever coming?"

"It should be done by the time you're through."

"Good." He nods, turning slowly. "Very good."

Oren and Akriel are waiting for him at their bedside, their sent for items sitting on a rolling table beside them, their whispering softly with Abner, not wanting to disturb the slumbering angel before his procedure. He nods at them, kneeling at the head of the bed, in front of the peaceful sentry. "Gadreel?" His eyes flutter open, and he pops the cap off the vial, holding it out to him. "Drink this." He nods weakly, his lips curling, and needs the help of the Healer and his brother to lift himself high enough to keep from choking as he swallows it. The affects take hold quickly, his eyes flutter again, and he lays his head back down as his eyes flutter closed.

They don't open again.

Abner strokes his fingers over his forehead worriedly, calling out to him softly, and when he gains no response he looks up to the Healer with wide distrusting eyes.

It breaks his hurt to see that expression, solely meant for him. "What did you do!"

"He's alright. It's just a strong sedative. It'll keep him from waking while we work." He looks down over his wings. "He shouldn't be awake for this."

Abner seemed unsure, but gave an ounce of trust, nodding silently in acceptance, as he looks back down to his younger brother and strokes his fingers over his cheek tenderly.

He turns, Oren's got his sleeves rolled up as he washes his hands in the second basin of water, dries them on the cloth hanging over the side. Akriel has lit a burner under a smaller basin, heating the coconut oil inside, soaking strips of cloth in the warming oil. He nods to them both in thanks, stepping up beside his Captain as he too rolls his sleeves up, washing his hands in the warm water, and dries them on a clean, dry cloth.

The Healer gestures for the Virtue to take the left side, as he takes his place at the right, reaching over his shoulders for one of the straight razors, Oren hands it over at his beckoning. They exchange looks over the tortured appendages, and then begin their work, chipping away at the thick wax coating his wings, cutting away chunks at a time, peeling away layer after layer, as one would peel an apple, as the rags soak up the warmed coconut oil in the small basin.

Above them, the sun slowly travelled across the sky, moving them passed noon and into the afternoon, and by then they had only just managed to get the thick layers shaved down, a small piles of peels formed around them, at their feet, around the stools they sat on as they worked fluidly over their appointed wings.

Oren pauses for a moment, looking up at the angel they were tending to, watching the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders. "How's he doin, Ab?"

The older sentry looks up from watching his younger brother's peaceful slumber, meeting the inquisitive eyes of the Virtue over his head, smiling at his inquiry. "Sleeping."

He smiles at the sentry. "Good."

He reaches for a rag, dampened with warm coconut oil, and pressed it firmly to a portion, letting the warmth soften the wax, and the oil mix in to soften it more, and ease the burn as he peeled it off. The archangel soon followed, both trying to be as gentle as they could, not wanting the pain as they worked to overpower the sedation.

Gadreel stiffened, the muscles in his arms tensing, a soft whine escaped his throat, and the older sentry was quick to lull him back under, brushing his thumb over his forehead, he whispered down to him soft reassurances and the tension slowly melted as he fell back under the affects of the sedative.

Abner lay there, the younger angel laying between his legs, using his chest as his pillow, trying to offer as much soft comfort as he could even in his brother's deep sleep.

The skin was raw once they removed the wax coating, and the Healer was mindful as he reached for a pair of fancy looking clamps, using them to pull the free-standing quills out. He tugged on the feathers that remained, Oren working in sync with him, plucking at the ones halfway broken, and tenderly smoothing the ones that managed to remain where they lay, the ones that hadn't been touched by his torturer.

They both took a sponge from the basin of warm clean water, lathered them up with lavender soap, and moved on to washing the inflamed skin with gentle circular strokes. Digging the sponges in a bit more firmly when they made to wash out the gashes cut into the inflamed skin, rubbing firmly at the whip lashes, and Gadreel whined again, his fingers flexing in his older brothers shirt. Abner curled the fingers of his right hand over the one clenched at his tunic. "It's okay, baby brother, you're okay." He rubs the tension from his hand soothingly. "Go back to sleep." He smiles gently when the younger sentry nuzzles his cheek against his chest and settles back down. Turning a glare up at the two healers. "Be more gentle."

"We're sorry," the Healer sets his sponge aside and reaches for the lotion to rub into the warm raw skin. "We're just about done." They both reach for multiple swaths of bandages and begin binding the sensitive, freshly cleaned, raw wings.

Gadreel sighs, a small bit of comfort from such a small comfort of having ones wings tended to.

"And you, young one," Abner looks up at being addressed, both Archangel and Virtue watching him carefully. "How do your wings fair?"

"They are fine, sore, but fine." He looks back down to his sleeping baby brother. "Just a few pulled feathers." The older sentry looks down at the younger tenderly. "They went after Reel more than they did me."

…

"Tus?" The young guard he'd taken as his own turned the corner into the bedroom he was preparing, making the bed, hanging the new tunics in the wardrobe, ensuring the lamps were lit, making sure they had enough sleeping drought to get them through the month. The Power in question looks up from folding the trousers silently, smiling at the young guard in greeting, beckoning him forward. "Tus, what are you doing?"

"I'm preparing a room for our two new young ones."

"Who?"

He finishes folding the trousers, places them within the wardrobe on their assigned shelf, and closes the door gently. "Abner and Gadreel. They need a safe, quiet place to recover, and seeing as I'm head of the Guards I chose for them to come here."

Andre's eyes widened in surprise. "Gadreel _and_ Abner?"

"Yes," the Power nods gently. "Both of them. They have been through something quite traumatic and need somewhere stable to begin to heal."

"Titus."

Both Power and guard turn at the voice. Oren stands in the door way, cradling one of the new companions in his arms, the other standing at his side, clutching at the other sentry's hand tightly. The one at his side watches them carefully, eyes distrusting but hopeful, the one in his arms half asleep, barely away of his surroundings, from what Titus has heard, they keep the younger of the two pretty sedated.

The Power gestures them forward. "Here, here," he pulls the blankets down for them. "Set him here." Oren nods, stepping into the room, keeping his pace slow as to not break their connection as the other sentry limps at his side slowly. The younger whimpers softly, and he coos down at him softly as he bends to set him on the bed, stepping aside for his brother to slide in with him. "It's alright, Reel, let me get you tucked in and you can have some of your tonic." Abner settles on his side, pulling the younger sentry closer to him, Gadreel whimpers again, his hand shakes lightly as he reaches out to clutch at his older brothers tunic. The Virtue's Captain tucks the blanket up under his chin, fishing in his pocket for two vials, he kneels again, cupping the back of his head, he presses the first one to the younger's lip. "Here you are."

He drinks it in two gulps, shivers softly, and settles down against the older sentry quietly as his eyes flutter closed.

Oren holds one out to the other. "Here, Abner, yours too."

Abner takes the vial quietly, downing the concoction in one gulp, and barely manages to pass it back before his eyes start fluttering.

The all watch as they two of them curl up together.

Oren smiles at them for a moment, before turning to the Power behind them, Titus smiles at the sight they make. "Alright, they should be out for a while, it's a strong sleeping drought." The Power nods attentively. "Gadreel needs to take the pain reliever and the sleeping drought every four hours, his wounds are more extensive then Abner's are, we've been keeping him pretty sedated while his wings heal." The captain of the Guards nods, paying apt attention to the instructions. "Under no circumstance is he to walk on his feet, the skin of his soles has been flayed down two and a half layers, the flesh is too raw for any heavy weight." He smirks slightly as he gazes at his good friend. "You'll have to put those muscles to use, Tus." Titus shoves him in the shoulder, and they share a soft laugh. "Abner doesn't sleep during the night, he needs to take a sleeping drought before bed, we've been giving it to him after supper, so he gets plenty of sleep." He nods, going through his mental checklist to ensure he hasn't forgotten anything, and he nods slightly. "Oh, and they're not to be separated, Gadreel panics if he can't touch Abner, they always have to be able to touch each other, at least hold each other's hands." He looks up as he thinks. "Oh, and, Reel's bandages have to be changed once a day to avoid infection. Akriel will come in the morning to see them, they've been talking for the duration of their stay with us, and their meetings will continue for some time still."

He nods, knowing that he covered everything, and turns back to watch them for another moment. Their peaceful expressions, the gentle rise and fall of their shoulders, the younger sentry's fingers curled limply in the elders tunic. "And make sure to show them love, lots and lots of love, they need as much of it as they can get."

Titus nods, stepping up to meet at his side, Andre following him, and they watch the two freed sentry's sleep peacefully unaware of their audience. "They'll be well taken care of."


	191. Of Half Cocked Rescue Missions (The Virtues & The Powers)

"Sasha, they should have been back by now."

Paul pulled his feet back from the Captain's desk, taking advantage of him not being there by resting his feet on the desk, without having someone there to tell him to take his feet off, but now he was getting worried. Nisroc should have been back _yesterday_ , and he still wasn't, they were growing worried.

"He said he'd be back in a week, and that week ended yesterday," his younger brother rubs at his chin lightly. "I agree. They should have."

"Titus still isn't back either." Andre walked into their Captain's office worriedly, he missed his guardian, hence the reason they saw him wearing one of his tunics. He came to stand next to Sasha, crossing his arms lightly, he tapped his forearm with the fingers of his left hand nervously. "Do you think something happened to them?"

"Maybe," Sasha looks between them. "But it would have to be a _powerful_ adversary to take them all on and succeed."

"True." Paul nods as he kicks his feet off his guardian's desk, stomping them down on the stone floor underneath them, reaching down to adjust the straps on his boots, tighten them before he tripped, so he didn't have to listen to that little voice in the back of his head that sounded like Nisroc telling him he _'should have tightened the straps on his boots'_. He wasn't even there, and he was nagging him on taking care of himself. "Or, they were caught by surprise. Anyone's easily defeated if their caught by surprise."

"I hope they're okay." Paul snorted at Donavon's appearance, he was wearing one of Puriel's vests, it was much too big on him, and it amused him to no end. He balled up a piece of paper and threw it at the Captain's oldest charge, Paul caught it easily, tossing it back around at him. "I'm sure they are, I mean, they have Puri and the Virtues, they'd be able to patch up any wound."

"Sure," Donavon nodded, coming to stand next to Andre. "Unless they don't have the necessary supplies. _And,_ Puriel didn't take his sword."

"He didn't take _what_?" Andre and Sasha turn to look at him, Paul staring at up at him, and he nodded. "It was supposed to be a simple recon mission, he wasn't even asked to go with them, he went of his own accord because he's a worry wart." He shrugs slightly. "So, he didn't think he'd need it."

"We should go get them!" Paul curled the fingers of his right hand into a tight fist, banging it down harshly against the wooden desk before him. "No one messes with them but _us_!"

"Not including your twisted logic, Paul," Sasha holds up a finger. "But are you _crazy_?" He holds his hand up, straightening his other fingers, palm face his brother. "Nis would skin us _alive_ if he found out we put ourselves in unnecessary danger, and I for one don't want to feel his wrath, so I come back to my previous statement." He tilts his head and throws his hands up. "Are you _crazy_!"

Paul grimaced, he hadn't thought about that, Nisroc would _not_ be thrilled with that small fact. Despite their good intentions.

Beside him, Andre grimaced too, Sasha turned to look at him as he reached back to rub at his bottom as if feeling the phantom sting. Titus was a calm, understanding Power, he wasn't easy to anger, he had the patience of a Saint. But he also had a set of rules he was strict about, rules that were met with firm consequence if they were broken, and the first rule on that list was not putting oneself in unnecessary danger. He didn't know about the other Powers, but like Nisroc, Titus was a very _hand's on_ disciplinarian. He wasn't gentle either, it was a severe matter if one broke one of his rules, and he'd take the sheath of his sword and have you bare yourself over his desk and-Least to say Andre always thought twice on breaking his rules, and never did so intentionally. But this matter was different, Titus was in trouble, and he wanted to help him. "I agree, Titus would be, in the very least, greatly _displeased_."

"Puriel would not be happy either." Donavon shifts from foot to foot, looking down for a moment, and looked up with a cautious expression. "I don't know how you all get straightened out, but Puri is _firm_ handed, I like to avoid making him angry at me."

"Guys, I get it, I do." Paul leans forward over the desk, crossing his arms under him. "I, myself, don't like the feeling of Nis's belt, but they _need_ us now."

"Why don't we just tell one of the Archangel. They would be more then willing to go after them."

"That's an idea." The Captain's oldest charge nods. "But it's not personal to them. It's _personal_ to us. This is something _we_ have to do."

"We want it known that we don't approve of this half cocked rescue mission you're all planning rather openly." They all jump at the elder's voice, they're so quiet, they spend so much time in their room, they had forgotten that they were still in the Pavilion. All eyes turn to the doorway of the Captain's office, where the two elder Sentry's stood, they're still holding hands. Gadreel has healed enough to walk but is still working on talking to others outside of the duo that was Titus and Abner. And Akriel. Any of the Virtues really. Abner looks between them all carefully, his expression giving way to the disapproval they both felt, and all four boys averted their eyes away from his stern gaze. "But if you're going to go after them, you're going to need two things." He holds up one finger, "You're going to need someone to patch you up if you get injured." And holds up the second finger. "And something more than just training weapons."

"You mean…?"

"I can get you weapons from the Warriors Armory. Those would be better suited for your mission." He looks between them all. "But any wrath that becomes from this mission is yours to face alone. You all know how they'd feel about this." Abner turns his attention to Donavon, and the youth fidgets slightly, good, he should. "You can take Puriel's sword."

"I'm not supposed to touch it."

"It's a short sword, curved, it'll still be a bit large for you, but you'll handle it fine." Abner raises an eyebrow. "And you know you're not supposed to go on half cocked missions without the knowledge of an elder, yet, you're still going to do that."

"Technically speaking," Paul stands up slowly from the Captain's chair. " _You_ guys are elders."

"And, _technically speaking_ ," the older sentry points a finger at the Power Captain's oldest boy. "We're not medically _cleared_ to be giving you such permissions."

Paul points a finger right back at him, the others looking back and forth between them as they watched the conversation they were having. "Ah, _but_ , you're not, _not_ , medically cleared to give us permission."

"That makes no sense."

He whines softly, slouching inwards. "I knoooow."

Abner nods at him, he gets why Nisroc is so fond of the boy, he's highly amusing, word on the grapevine is that he had spent too much time with Haniel while he was growing up. It showed. He turns, pulling Gadreel around with him gently, and gestures for them to follow from over his shoulder. The Armory for the Warriors was where all the _real_ weapons were kept, where the Power's kept their arsenal of weapons, only actual Warriors could get in. The door was locked, one needed to use their grace to get in, it was like a scanner or finger print pad, only the grace of a Warrior or Guard could open the door. Trainees were not allowed in, the locking mechanism wouldn't even respond to them, but once your grace in put in the mechanism, it was never taken out, the locking mechanism wouldn't respond to them but it would respond to Abner.

They gather around him as he leads them to the Armory door, peers at them from over his shoulder, and reaches forward to press his hand to the front of the stone door. The runes in the door slowly light up with amber colored grace, the locks built within click and tumble as they're undone from the latches, they gather closer around him, standing up on their toes to peer over his shoulders to see into the mysterious Armory that they ordinarily wouldn't have been granted access to.

"Welcome to the _real_ Armory."

"This is _amazing_!" They follow him inside, staring and looking about in awe, the rooms filled to the brim with weapons. Maces, lances, swords, bows, spears, short swords, long swords, scythes, daggers, every weapon one could imagine was within these walls. "Why are all the weapons kept in _here?"_

"Because we don't want them to fall into the wrong hands."

"Oh, in case of an ambush."

"No." They come to stand before a set of large wooden cubby's. "In case any _genius_ younglings get any good ideas."

"We resent that."

Abner turns to look at the Captain's youngest charge. "No, you _represent_ that."

"Hey," Andre steps forward, between Paul and Donavon, and runs his finger over the name plate on one of the cubbies. "This has Tus's name on it."

"Very good." Abner gestures to the row of six cubbies. "These are their personal racks. I figure if your going to save them you may as well borrow from them too."

The sentry points at the medic's boy. "You take his sword." Donavon nods, stepping forward to the rack, taking the sword from its place.

Then, he points to the Captain's two charges. "Nisroc has a set of short swords, one for each of you, they're the same, no fighting over them." They both exchange a look, Paul bows and gestures his younger brother forward with a sweep of his arm, Sasha elbows him in the side lightly.

"Here, Andre," they'd been introduced by Titus after the first week of them opening up to him, if they were going to be staying under the Guard captain's watchful eyes, they'd have to have met his charge. Abner pulls Gadreel forward with him as he steps up to the young guard in training's side, reaching into the cubby for a belt of daggers. "Take these."

He turns to look at them all, sizing them each over carefully, and gives them a nod. "You've got your weapons. Now you need some healers."

…

"Hey, you guys." They look up at the call for their attention, sitting upon the stairs of the Infirmary, kicked out for having asked about the Virtues for the twentieth time within the last hour, they were getting more in the way then they were helping, so they were dismissed. "Hey."

"Hey, Paul." Araton waves at him, curling a hand over her eyes, to block out the bright sun as the four of them approach. The four of them eye the warriors in training curiously. "Where'd you get _real_ weapons?"

"Abner helped us." Paul looks over his shoulders to the others behind him. "We're going to get our family back, you wanna come?"

Orion and Gzel exchange looks, the older sister looking up at them with scrutinizing eyes, as though waiting curiously, firmly, for their answer. "Can I beat people up?"

"Of course, you can."

That's all it really took to convince Gzel. "Okay, I'm in." Orion was not so easily convinced as her sister was, she rubbed her knees nervously, gazing between the Power's boys and her sister. Akriel wouldn't be happy with them for putting themselves into danger, he'd be right angry at them, and she didn't like making Akriel angry at her. He didn't do it often, nothing really warranted it, but doing _this_ would most certainly be something that he would say warranted a trip over his knee. She didn't like being in that position. It hurt. "I don't know." She wrings her hands together. "Akriel won't be happy." The quiet little healer looks up to her sister. "He'll be very mad that we put ourselves in danger."

Gzel rubs her arm softly. "I'll protect you, Rio, no one'll get their hands on you."

"But he'll still be mad." Orion shakes her head. "I don't like it when he's mad."

"I'll tell him I goaded you into you and that you didn't want to do it."

She seemed to consider it, it would help if Gzel took the brunt of his anger, it would mean less consequence for her. Orion inhaled deeply, taking a deep sigh, and nodded her head in acquiesce. "Okay. I'll come."

Inca looks between them all, he knows what Oren would do if he found out he'd went along with this half cocked plan, but he missed his guardian. The week he'd been gone was one of the longest weeks of his life, he had to sleep all alone in their spacious bedroom, listening to every creek and bump in the night without the protection of the Captain there to keep the fright away. He was willing to take the risk of facing his anger if it meant getting him back. _'I'm in too.'_

They all turned to the little apothecary for her input, Araton looked between them all in equal turn, Zed wasn't someone you wanted to upset, and putting herself into danger by doing this would most certainly upset him. But at the same time, something had happened that brought him to capture, he needed her now, he needed _her_ help. She was willing to take the risk of upsetting him if it meant getting him back. "I'll come too."

Donavon smiles at them. "Awesome, grab what you need, we have to get out of here before anyone notices our disappearance."

The four healers nod in sync, jumping from the stair that lounged on, and ran back up to disappear inside the Infirmary. The Power's charges looked around, as if to see if anyone had noticed anything out of place, and in order to watch to ensure nothing became of it if they did notice something was out of place.

They didn't have to wait long, the others came running back down the steps after a few minutes, the items they had gone for in hand. Orion had Akriel's daggers secured around her waist. Inca had Oren's short sword in hand. Araton had a satchel hanging over her shoulder.

They all looked at her oddly. They were going into battle and she brought a satchel.

"What?" She looks between them all curiously. "I'm working on some new things and I want to see how they work out."

…

"Something's going on out there."

They curled their fingers around the bars of their prison, the only thing keeping them from seeing what was going on before them was the door, it was a pathetic prison of a cell, it was the simplest of things that kept them from breaking free of their prison.

The cuffs around their wrists kept them powerless, they were basically human, there was nothing they could do.

"I hope my girls are okay." They all turned to look at the mental specialist, leaning forward on his knees, his head resting on his palms. "I promised to be back two days ago."

"I'm sure they're fine, Ak," Ephraim rubs his shoulder gently. "They're strong girls. They'll be excited to see you no matter the day you return."

"I hope Paul hasn't done something stupid that could endanger his life and everyone else's." They all turned to look at the Power's Captain, leaning against the bars of their cell, fingers curls loosely around two bars. He looks over at them at the silence behind him. "I know my charges _very_ well."

"Someone's touching my sword." Puriel straightens, it's like someone is touching his grace, and their squeezing it rather firmly too, it's a bit uncomfortable. Oren straightens next to him. "Someone's touching my sword as well."

The thing with their swords, their a _ctual_ swords, is that it's infused with their grace. That's how they can control it so fluidly, it is literally an extension of them, it's a part of them.

"I miss Araton." Zeb's fingers tightened around the bars of their cell. "I wish I could see her."

The door opened and someone slipped in, the door clicking shut softly behind them, and a shadow crossed over the far wall.

They all jumped up, crowding around the bars of their cell, trying to make out the figure creeping around. "Who's there!"

The shadow froze for a moment, and stepped out of the darkness, Zed's eyes widen in surprise and wonder's for a moment if his Father has a twisted sense of humor. " _Araton?"_

The little apothecary comes to stand in front of her master, smiling up at him in greeting, and he stares down at her with wide eyes. "Hi, Z." He reaches through the bars, cradling her face in his hands, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. "Ara, what on earth are you _doing_ here?"

"Well, my job is to get you guys out, the others are keeping everyone else distracted."

"What do yo—"

"Okay, hold still, I don't know what this stuff will do if it touches your skin."

"Wha-"

She looks down, digging through her satchel for the vials she brought, pulling out a bright green concoction and poured just a bit of it on the cuffs curled around his wrists. He watched in fascination as the metal slowly began to sizzle, and he was able to pull them off before the toxic mixture managed to touch his skin, if it could melt metal, he didn't want to see what it could do to flesh and bone. "Araton, that is _amazing_."

Haniel shoved his hands out towards her. "Do me!"

"No, do me!" Constantine copied him.

She giggled softly, coming to stand before the Power, and dripped a few drops of her green mixture over the metal cuffs, before moving on to the Virtue. She did them in order, from where they stood, and then focused on the locking mechanism. They crowded around her, on the other side of the bars, as the little apothecary eyed the lock carefully.

Araton shrugs lightly, pouring the rest of her concoction over the lock, and they watched in fascination as it sizzled and melted away.

"Zed," Nisroc pats his shoulder lightly. "You're girl is amazing."

He smiles down at his little apprentice fondly. "I know she is."

She steps aside as the door swings open, and both the Virtues and the Powers step out, Zed cradles her cheek lightly as he comes to stand before her. "You all are in _so_ much trouble."

…

Paul and Sasha started when two large hands appeared from above them, fingers curling around the hilts of the short swords, and lifted them up from their grasp, turning to look up in surprise, meeting the stern eyes of their guardian.

Nisroc smiled down at them in greeting. "Thank you for the aid. We'll talk more about this later." He nodded to the side. "Get behind me." They both nodded, not needing to be told twice, and quickly skirted around him to stand behind him, peering out from his sides.

Puriel and Oren took their swords back, nodding in the same manner, and they peered out from behind their respective guardian to watch the fray about to unfold.

"Thanks for the help." Akriel rubs his hand over Gzel's head, Orion hanging on to the back of his tunic, and turns back to their foe at hand. "But we'll take it from here."

…

The eight of them looked to their feet in shame, under the stern gazes of their respective Archangels, not daring attempt a glance lest they see the angry burning in their eyes.

"Of all the _foolish_ and _dangerous_ things, you all could think to do," Michael looked between each one of them. "You decide it _wise_ to go after a foe strong enough to capture not only my Powers, but Raphael's Virtues as well?"

"Do you realize how dangerous that was?" Raphael was just as angry as Michael was, but his anger was a soft anger, a slow simmering anger. "You could have gotten yourselves killed."

Their guardians stood behind them, their hands resting gently on their shoulders, a solid piece of evidence that they were not alone in this.

Michael exchanged a look with his brother, and they share a nod, crossing their arms as they both turn to peer back at their young flock members. "We think it best, given the circumstance, if your guardians deal with this matter."


	192. Baby Steps (Titus, Gadreel, & Abner)

He watched the Power poke his brother in the belly, in the side, again in the belly, making him giggle like he was a fledgling again. He was happy that someone could make his brother sound like that again, Abner deserved to be treated with kindness, made to feel like he was loved, like he was someone's younger brother. He took such good care of him, letting him sleep curled up against his side, holding his hand everywhere they went, doing his talking for him when Akriel came every afternoon.

It had been in the morning when he'd come, but they had trouble waking up that early, so Titus asked him to come in the afternoon.

He treated him so good, and never complained about it, letting him hang onto him as much as he wanted. Abner rubbed at his wing joints when they started to ache, he held his hand when it came time to change the bandages, he helped him get dressed in the morning.

He was an invalid.

A burden placed upon the older Sentry.

"Okay, okay, okay," he giggled brightly as he swatted at his old guardians fingers. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"You know what happens when you get cheeky with me."

"Tus! Tus!" The Older sentry kicks at him. "It won't happen again! It won't!"

"See that it doesn't." The Power lean's back, chuckling softly at the giggling mess he's made of his grown charge, some things would never change.

Abner sat up, leaning back against the pillows, rubbing at his belly and sides to rid himself of the remaining tingles. He inhales deeply, turning to gaze at his younger brother, and he sobers up quickly. "Gaddy, what's wrong?" The younger sentry shakes his head softly and looks down to his knees. "No, Gaddy, you have to use your words. Remember," he reaches over to tug on his younger brother's sleeve. "You have to talk to me. That's what Akriel said. You have to use your words."

Titus watched them closely, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking between them both carefully. Gadreel was getting better with having him around, he wasn't hiding away against the older sentry when he was around anymore, but they were still working on him using his words around others.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, baby brother, there's nothing to be sorry for." He pats the spot between his legs, adjusting his position slightly as the younger sentry crawled forward to sit in front of him, his legs crossed before him, he stretched his legs out around him. "We've talked about that."

Gadreel looks down, and he pokes him in the side lightly, smiling when the younger sentry jolted softly, a light breathy giggle escaping him. "Did you want to play too, baby brother?" He pokes him in his other side, and he twitches, giggling again. "You can play too." The Power smiles at the small giggles that come from the younger sentry. Abner rests his chin on the young sentry's shoulder. "Is it okay if Tus plays too?"

He looks up at the Power, he's always been kind, he sits with him until his sleeping drought kicks in and reads to him when he has trouble falling asleep, he'd stayed with him when Abner had to go to the Infirmary again on his own to see Akriel.

The young sentry nods softly, giggling again when the Power leans forward and pokes him in the belly, pressing back against his older brother when they poke him at the same time.

Baby steps.


	193. Father Meets Son (Akriel & Avon)

_The Healer turned to spare the boy a look from over his shoulder. "And I will be telling your father about this, Avon."_

He knew upon first meeting who the boy's father was, their resemblance was uncanny, he had his father's eyes, the same color hair, they even wore it in the same fashion. Part of him was sure that he didn't know he had a son, he wasn't known to ignore those that needed him, and this boy very _clearly_ needed him. Avon was a good boy, it was obvious about him, he was just misguided. He needed someone to set him back on the right path again, and while he would be more than happy to do so himself, he figured it would be better suited for the boy's father do be the one to do so.

It would leave a more lasting impression.

First things first, to set this boy back on the straight and narrow path, was to enlighten the boys father on his wellbeing.

Healers parted as he strode down the length his Infirmary, night was beginning to set in, the younger healers were being relieved from their duties by the elder to head on to bed. The lanterns were self-lighting along the walls, the sun slowly setting to the west, the moon slowly rising in its place. The query he was after sat at his desk, candles alit over his desk as he finally got to work on his paperwork, so long as he did it, he didn't really mind how it got done.

"Akriel," he smiled in greeting when one of his little charges sat up from leaning against his other side, he hadn't even seen her, Orion smiled up at him in return. "Akriel, can I have a word with you in my office?"

"Am I in trouble?"

The archangels eyes narrow slightly at the unusual question. "Should you be?"

"Not that I know of."

Raphael sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Then you are not in trouble." He nodded towards his office. "I just wish to have a word with you."

"Alright," Akriel turns to his young charge on his other side, stroking a hand down the side of her head. "Go on up to bed." Orion nods, excusing herself quietly, and disappears into the crowds of healers milling about during the shift change. He stands from his desk, following dutifully at the Archangel's beckoning, and steps into the archangel's office as he closes the door behind him. "Is everything alright?"

The mental specialist comes to sit in one of the chairs across the other side of the archangels desk, as Raphael sat on the other side of his desk, leaning back in his chair. "Everything is as fine as it can be." He was never one to beat around the bush. "Akriel, did you have a human lover?"

"I—I—" His mouth opened and closed for a brief moment, flabbergasted by the direct request, the direct inquiry. "I don't—I don't see how that's any of your business. My work was never affected."

Raphael raises an eyebrow at the defensiveness, boarder lining on rude, response to his question. "So you did."

"I—I" Akriel nods lightly. "Perhaps I did, but I don't see the reasoning for such a question, we haven't seen each other in decades."

"I'm not judging you, Ak." The archangel leans forward. "If I were to judge anyone for having a lover, I would have to start with myself first, I am not frowning at your choice of relationship."

"Then, what does—"

"You have a son."

Akriel stares at him, his eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly ajar, caught off guard by such a statement being made. Raphael nods lightly, crossing his arms over the top of his desk as he leans forward, watching his Virtue's reaction carefully, to the sudden shock of someone finding out they have a child.

"I—I…. _What_?"

"You have a son." He taps the top of his desk with the fingers of his right hand. "His name is Avon. He appears to be around the age of fifteen. He looks quite like you do, the resemblance is uncanny, you could be brothers if I didn't know any better."

"I have—I—"

"And, if I might say, he's in need of a _firm_ hand to the rear end, if I do say so myself."

Akriel blinks, his mind still trying to wrap around the fact that he had a son, and then for his Archangel to say something along those lines, it was enough to bring anyone's mind to a stunned halt. "A firm hand?" he tilts his head slightly. "Has he done something wrong?"

"Done something wrong, indeed." The Healer nods at him lightly. "You know of this _'war'_ the young Nephilim are fighting, don't you?" He snorts lightly. "Though, it would be more appropriate to say, their fighting for parental attention." Akriel nods silently. "Your boy decided he wanted to be on the side causing the trouble." He rubs his chin lightly, thoughtfully. "I'd say, all they need is a firm smack to their back ends, that's never hurt anyone, and then be sent to bed."

"Sir, with all due respect, you think that about all misbehaving young ones."

"Ahh," the Healer points a finger at him. "But I've never been wrong."

"He's been causing trouble?"

"Yes." His archangel nods lightly. "You know of my daughters friends?" Akriel nods, his younger sister talks about them all often, none so much as her best friend, Ava, though. "They are keeping him as their prisoner at the moment."

"Can I…" The trauma specialist rubs at his cheek lightly. "Can I _meet_ him?"

"I was hoping you'd ask."

…

He couldn't help but stare at the boy when they appeared at his side, the chains around his ankles rattled as he jumped away from the archangel, hands coming around to protect his rear, not wanting to meet the end of the Healer's staff again. "No, _no_ , I've just been sitting here!"

Raphael smiles at the boy, adjusting his hold on his staff. "Relax, boy, it's not my temper you should be concerned with." He turns to look at the angel standing at his right shoulder. "I told you I would tell your father."

"But I don't…" Avon turns from the archangel to the man at his shoulder, similar colored eyes meet, and the man smiles at him. "You look so much like your mother."

Akriel didn't much see what his archangel saw, the boy looked more like his mother did, he had her nose and her ears, he looked so much like she did.

The boy stares at him. " _You're_ my dad?"

"That would make you my son." The Angel smiles at him. He's never had a son before, he's never had a child that was actually _his_ , sure, he considers Orion and Gzel his, but at the end of the day, and under the technicality that was their family, they were technically his younger sisters. But this boy, the one before them, was his. He had helped make him. This was a little part of him. "My little baby boy."

Avon narrows his eyes at him, hands slowly coming back from behind him, hanging limply at his sides. "I'm _not_ a baby."

"I beg to differ." The Virtue tilts his head at him, taking him in for all he was worth, not wanting to miss a single hair on his head. "You'll always be my baby. My baby boy."

"I think I'll leave you two to it." Raphael nods at them both, winking at the boy fondly, Avon may need a bit of firm redirection, but he was still a good boy. "Akriel." He looks to his Virtue, and his specialist turns to meet his eyes. "Stay as long as you need."

Akriel nods, turning back to his boy, and smiles at him kindly. The faint ruffle of feathers is the only indication that his Archangel has left them their privacy. "You look so familiar to me, but I barely know you, would you tell me about yourself?"

His son doesn't move an inch from where he retreated to. "Why didn't you ever come get me?" He crosses his arms over his thin chest. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't left me."

"Don't think to put blame for your behavior on me." He points a finger at the boy in warning. "Surely your mother taught you the difference between right and wrong, you didn't need me for that," he cringes though in guilt. "Though I do regret not coming to see you, I did not know you existed until a few minutes ago, if I had, well, _you_ would never have gotten this far in your measly little squabble as you are."

"Hey," the boy sounds a tad bit offended. "I'm an _important_ member!"

"Be that as it may." The Virtue points a finger at him sternly. " _You_ are going to _withdraw_ your position."

"You can't just come and start ordering me about!"

"First, you are upset I did not come for you." Akriel crosses his arms loosely. " _Now,_ you are upset that I have." He shakes his head. "You'll come with me. Where I may know you are not getting into any more trouble."

Avon crosses his arms stubbornly, he wasn't taking to someone coming in and tell him what he was about to do rather well, it was a contradiction, he had to know that having a parent alive and able to keep up with him would mean that rules would be implemented, he wanted his father to have had come for him, and yet he didn't want what came with it.

Well, one couldn't have the best of both worlds.

"I'm not coming anywhere with _you_."

"He was right," Akriel nods slightly, his hands coming to the buckle keeping his belt together, Avon watched him with wide eyes as he carefully undid the buckle and pulled the belt around to his right hand, doubling it over, it's an old leather belt, built well, he's had it for quite some time and he'd still have it for some time to come. "You _do_ need a firmer hand."

Avon's eyes widened, and he jumped back, backtracking as much as he could with chains linked around his ankles. "No! _No!_ Okay, I'll come! I'll come!" His dad shakes his head as he crosses the dungeon he's kept in with ease. "No, no, you said none of this would have happened if I had only come for you, and you're right, it wouldn't have, let me show you what I would have done had I found out sooner."

"No! Don't you dare! Stay away from me!"

Being trapped in chains only allowed you so much room to roam, he nearly stumbled over backwards when the leeway in the chains was pulled tight and his range of motion was drawn to a sudden stop. His backtracking might have come to a stop, but his father's advance did not, his hand was big, his fingers long, when they curled around his upper arm firmly.

"This is what I would have done." He stumbles as he's tugged around, there's no time for him to react, other then his eyes widening, when he swings his belt back and brings it back around with the same harshness that the archangel had swung his staff around.

The young Nephilim yowls at the stinging thrash from the leather belt, jumping in place, his back arches, as he tries to jump away from the sting, as the belt swings back again. But he can't move, not only is he at the end of his chain, the hand curled around his right upper arm keeps him in place, keeping him from jumping away when the belt thrashes down again. "Oooowwwwww!" He fumbles, his hands shaking as he throws them back, trying to protect his rear end from another stinging thrash from the belt. "No more! No more!"

"Move your hands."

"Dad! _Dad_! No! No, I'll go!"

"If you don't move your hands, I will move them for you, tug down your jeans, and we will continue this over your bare end."

"No!" Avon shakes his head frantically. "No, I don't want that!"

"Then you better move your hands."

He moves his hands, pulling them back around quickly, howling when the belt is brought down for a firmer thrash, and it lifts him from his feet. He jumps, howling at the impact, his hands flying back again as though with minds of their own.

"You know," despite his precarious position and the current happenings within his prison, his father's tone is still light, it's still kind. "I don't like having to do this." He turns, tugging his young son forward with him. "So, let's make sure this is a lasting impression."

His eyes widen at the implications of that statement, but what with being chained at the ankles, and his father's grip on his upper arm, he can't do much but shuffle forward with him. Akriel sits heavily on the stone chair that sits in the center of this prison, curls the belt over his left thigh, and yanks his son around to stand before him, around to face away, and swats his hands away. Avon looks down, eyes wide, as arms circle around him to his front, fingers curl around the button of his jeans.

The façade of disrespectful toughness fades away into a soft whine when fingers curl in the waist of his jeans and shimmy them down. _"...Daddy…."_ It's a soft, little cry that almost breaks his resolve. But the sooner they get these boundaries drawn, the sooner they can begin to move forward. Hands guide him around softly, and he looks down at his father's thigh. "Over."

He shakes his head pitifully.

"Come on, baby boy, over." A hand pats his bare cheek lightly and he flinches. "The sooner it starts, the sooner it ends."

Avon whines softly, bending forward to drape himself over the tall angel's thigh, his chains rattle softly over the stone floor and then fall silent. A hand presses to his lower back, a semblance of comfort, and something to keep him in place. He knows the belts taken back up, he feels it press to his bare bottom, and then it's pulled back. He takes a deep breath and holds it in.

_Thwap!_

The Nephilim boy howls loudly, kicking his legs out, at the firm, harsh smack of the belt against his bare end. He feels the slight shift in his father's leg as he pulls it back again, and then the slight shift as it comes back, and he howls again.

By the fourth harsh thrash he's unashamedly sobbing into his hands, jolting with every thrash that follows, kicking his legs, feeling like he's that little chubby boy being reprimanded by his mom again for getting into another fight with the other kids in their village. Except this time, it's not by his mom, his mom is long gone, this time it's by his _dad's_ hand.

Or, in this case, belt.

"When I tell you that you are doing something, what are you going to do?"

"OW! OW! _Daddy_! I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna do IT!"

"And, what are you _not_ going to do?"

"Please! _Daddy_ , please!"

A harsher thrash. "Avon."

"OW! OWW! Daddy! _Daddy!_ Fight you! I won't fight you!"

"Good boy." He jolts, kicking his legs, when the leather belt presses to his burning bottom. "So, what are you going to do now, little boy?"

"I—I'm gonna come wi—with you!"

"Good boy." The hand on his lower back scratches at the skin lightly. "Very good boy." The hand on his lower back reaches up to rub at the back of his head, and he feels his father bend forward, his stomach presses against his burning right cheek. "Hold still, I'm going to unchain you." After a moment, he feels the weight from the chains around his ankles loosen, and then they rattle as they're thrown back, away from him, he's free. "I'm going to help you up, alright?" He sniffles, rubbing at his face, and nods softly.

Once he's on his feet, Avon rubs pitifully at his burning rear end, and his father stands from the stone chair to rewind his belt around his waist. Pitifully, he pulls his jeans back up, biting back a whine as they come to cover his beaten bottom, and does the button up again.

"Let me see you." His belt back in place, the mental specialist curls the fingers of his right hand around his sons right cheek, and then the same with the left. Avon looks pitiful, to say the least, eyes red and puffy, cheeks red and covered in tear tracks, the tip of his nose red and warm, and his bright eyes look up at him. "You look as pitiful as a scolded puppy." Avon giggles softly, it's a wet giggle, soft, a bit of a hiccup at the end, but it makes his father beam all the same. "C'mere you."

He's pulled close, Avon curls his arms around him as best as he can, fingers curling tightly into the back of his tunic, as his dad wraps him up in a warm, comforting embrace. His dad is warm, solid, strong, he smells like peppermint, and he's there. It's been so long since he's had somebody hold him in their arms like this, one arm wrapped around his lower back, a hand cradling the back of his head, pressed against a comforting body of someone who's there for _him_. Fingers scratch at the back of his head. "You look like you could use a warm hug."

Avon snuffles miserably and nuzzles closer, he never wants those arms to let him go again, they're heavy, but not too heavy, and they're strong, and warm. The curl around him completely, he's a small, skinny little thing, tiny compared to how big his father is.

Fingers scratch at the back of his head again. "You're going to have nothing to do with this childish squabble, not any more, you're coming with me." He nods as he nuzzles closer, as long as he holds him in his arms like this, he'll go wherever he's told to. "Where I can keep my eye on you." His father's chest rumbles when he chuckles. "You'll share the bed with me, until this little war of yours passes, and we get you a room set up here in the Ancient City." He closes his eyes against his dad's chest. "You'll get to meet your sisters, of course."

Avon opens his eyes, pulling away slightly, recoiling from the comfort that's being offered second hand to him. " _Sisters?"_

He nods, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Sisters. Older sisters." He pulls him back in again. "Come back here, you, I'm not done hugging you yet." Avon lets himself be pulled back into the hug, this time his arms hang loosely, this is just a 'left over' hug, it's not original, it's not _his_ , it's a _'hand me down'_ hug. "Oh, don't be so stiff, this hug is your hug, and yours alone." Avon looks up at him, and he smiles, gazing down at him fondly. "I'm good at reading people."

"My hug?"

"All yours, baby boy."

Avon smiles slightly, curling back against his dad, feeling those arms tighten around him again, that hand rub at the back of his head. "I'm not a baby, dad."

"Sure, you are." Fingers curl around his head, moving over to tug softly at his ear. "You're _my_ baby."

"I'm your baby?"

"My baby." His dad presses a kiss to his forehead. "My baby boy."

Akriel holds him close for a few more minutes, rubbing at the back of his head, letting his nerves settle down again into something more relaxed. "Do they feed you here?"

He nods slightly. "Twice a day."

"Twice?" His thumb rubs against the base of his neck. "Are you hungry?"

He shrugs. "Only a little bit."

"We'll get you a bite to eat before bed, then." Fingers scratch at the back of his neck lightly. "Are your ankles sore from the chains?"

"No." He shakes his head. "My butt hurts, though."

The chest under his ear rumbles as his dad chuckles lightly. "I'm sure it does. It was quite red, too."

"Dad!"

"I'm sorry, I won't tease you, too much." He makes his little boy giggle softly, poking him in the side playfully, and takes that down as a mental notation to explore more at a later time. "But I have to a little bit, it's one of my many jobs, especially to my children."

"I'm happy I got to meet you, dad."

"I'm happy I got to meet you too, son."

Akriel kisses his head, caressing his cheek lightly as he pulls him back a bit, smiling down at him adoringly. "Let's get home, we'll get you a bite to eat, cleaned up, and into bed."

"Into bed?"

"Of course." He rubs his cheek lightly. "Did you think I'd make you sleep on the hard floor? No, you'll sleep in a nice warm bed, soft mattress, silky smooth quilts, nice fluffy pillow under your head." He tugs at his ear softly. "Sound nice?" For someone who's been sleeping on a cold stone floor for the past couple weeks, the quilt alone sounds nice, but everything all together makes him sway slightly at the thought of it.

Avon nods softly. "That sounds great, dad."

"Then, what are we waiting for?" The Virtue brushes his thumb over his cheek lightly. "Let's get you home."

"Home?"

"Home, baby boy, let's get you home."


	194. Making Progress (Akriel, Titus, Gadreel, & Abner)

"How are they doing?"

"They're doing well." He leads the Virtue across the training field, spying his own squadron learning under Abraxos' command, towards the room gifted to their two sentrys over a month ago. "Reel is slowly opening up. Abner is returning to his old self, Gadreel is having a harder time, but from what I hear," Titus spares the mental specialist a glance, "that's to be expected."

"It is, his experience was drastically different then the one Abner had, it was an expectation that someone would come for the elder of the two at some point." Akriel spares him a glance as he looks up from their path across the training field. "The same could not have been said for the younger. He was theirs to do with what they wanted." He looks back down again, watching his footing carefully. "Has he talked any?"

"He doesn't say much, not to me anyhow, from what Abner says though, they hold regular conversations."

"Gadreel trusts Abner more then he trusts anyone else. That makes sense."

They step up on the stone veranda of the Pavilion, crossing languidly to the stairs that lead up to the home of the Powers. "Has he let you touch him without flinching?" Akriel sounds curious, perhaps a tad worried, and they share another look.

Titus nods softly. "He sits between Abner's legs and I poke him in the belly and sides."

"He lets you poke him in the belly and the sides?"

"He does," he smiles at the Virtue. "And, he giggles like a fledgling."

"That's wonderful, Tus, truly." Akriel pats his arm lightly. "He's opening up to you. It's a sign of trust he's gifted to you."

"I cherish that inkling beyond words."

They take the stairs one at a time. "Nurture that sliver, it's good that he has Abner whom he can trust, but for him to have another soul he gives himself to would aid him beyond measure."

"I will take heed." Titus leads him down the hall to their sentry's room is located, across from his, next door to Puriel's. "And make sure not to move too fast."

They share a nod, and fall silent as the Power knocks lightly on the door, waiting for the soft voice of the older Sentry to call out and grant them entrance. Titus opens the door slowly, they both peer inside, smiling at the two sentry's in the bed. Abner is the only one who returns their smiles, Gadreel is resting peacefully against Abner's side, his head cushioned on his arm.

Akriel smiles at them as he takes the chair from the desk and turns it around, setting it near the edge of the bed, he leans forward and runs his fingers through Abner's hair. "It is usually the other way around when I come to visit."

"Yea, well," the sentry shrugs lightly. "I fell asleep early last night. He was up later. I could feel him tossing and turning."

He frowns in worry, looking down to the younger sentry, careful not to touch him. Gadreel rested on a hair trigger, the slightest of touches would wake him in a panic, and that was the last thing they needed. "Did he say what was the matter?"

Abner shakes his head slightly. "He fell asleep and has been down since then." He looks down at his sleeping younger brother. "I can wake him if you need."

The Virtue shakes his head. "No, no, let him sleep."

Abner nodded, settling back in his bed, smiling when the younger sentry nuzzled his cheek against his arm and settled in deeper. He stroked his fingers through his hair lightly, to settle him back down, and looked back up to the Virtue sitting across from him.

"Well, seeing as you're awake, in this odd turn of events, we can talk this morning."

"But what if we wake Gaddy?" Abner rubs his fingers over the sleeping sentry's forehead, smiling when his nose twitches cutely, and leans back against his pillows. "He needs his sleep."

"You're not getting out of this, Abner." He points a finger at the older sentry in warning. "We'll talk quietly."

"It wouldn't be me if I didn't try to get out of it."

"If you need convincing," he gestures to the Power leaning against the doorframe. "I'm sure Titus would be happy to oblige." The young man in the bed looks over his head, to the Power behind him, and the tall angel wiggles his fingers at him playfully. Abner's eyes widen, and he shakes his head quickly, looking back to the Virtue with wide eyes. "I think I'm good."

"If you're sure."

"I'm quite sure."

Akriel nods, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms loosely about his chest. "Tell me, have you been having any more nightmares?"

He shakes his head, pauses a moment, and then nods a slow nod. "Sometimes. Sometimes I'll be back there, curled up in my corner, the sound of the thick boots coming down the hall to come get me. And then….And then it just hurts."

"What hurts?"

"I don't know." He looks down to his lap. _"Everything."_ He shrugs lightly. "It just _hurts_."

"Okay, then what happens?"

Abner picks at the quilt over his legs, looks down at his sleeping younger brother, and then back to the quilt. "And then the key rattles in the gate, I can't see who it is, I don't dare look up at it, but the gate opens and someone steps in and…..and that's it."

"That's it?"

"That's when I wake him up." He looks over his shoulder to the Power, and Titus nods, looking over to his grown charge. "He starts crying out, I can hear him across the hall, I come and wake him up."

"Okay, you wake up, then what?"

Abner sighs. "And it all just hurts. I don't know what else to say about it. It just hurts."

"How do you get it to stop hurting?"

He nods to his old guardian. "Tus rubs it away."

The Virtue looks over his shoulder again for clarification, and Titus nods. "He complains that his back hurts. I help by rubbing the phantom ache away."

Titus knew all about phantom pains, his shoulder acted up frequently, the muscle tightening of its own accord, leaving it to be massaged into release again.

Akriel looks down to the sleeping sentry. "What about Gadreel?"

"Sometimes his feet start to hurt." Abner rubs at his brothers head gently. "Tus rubs his feet when they do until the ache passes."

"And he allows him to?"

He nods lightly. "As long as I'm here, he lets Tus touch him, cautiously at first, but he warms up to the touch after a minute."


	195. A Playful Distraction (Titus & Gadreel)

"Someone's got a case of the giggles."

He pokes the young sentry in the belly playfully, avoiding his reaching fingers skillfully, looming over him in his bed. Abner had to meet at the Infirmary that morning to get his back looked over, the whip lashes were healing nicely, the stitches needed removed, leaving Gadreel on his own for the first time in a while.

But he wasn't completely alone.

Titus had promised to stay with him until the older sentry returned.

They'd read for a bit, from one of his many books, played a card game silently after lunch, sat on either side of the bed and passed notes back and forth, played a game of catch with a paper ball, snuck around rearranging the others rooms a bit and waited on baited breath to hear their reactions. They had a merry good time together, even when things started to wind down, the gusto leaving the younger sentry laying on the bed. The Power sat next to him, poking him in the belly playfully, chuckling at his soft bubbly giggles, as he tried to wiggle away from his finger.

"Where are you going, you little wiggle worm?" He reaches over to poke him on the other side of his belly, eliciting another bout of happy giggles, and he wiggled back over again, pressing against his leg. "We're not done here yet." The little sentry giggles, hands circling around to grab his finger, but he alludes the attempts with ease. "Much better." He pokes him dead center in the belly and holds his finger there for a playful minute. "Makes it so much easier to do this." He spiders his finger over his belly, and the young sentry shrieks brightly, arching his back.

The Power chuckles when the younger angel manages to curl his fingers around his wrist and tug his hand away from his belly. "Oh, you think that'll stop me?" He looks to the space above them. "Whatever shall I do now?" He raises his other hand, eyes going playfully wide as he stares at him, and turns to look back at the giggling sentry beside him. "Oh, look what I've been gifted, a _second_ hand. I wonder, though," he wiggles the finger of his right hand down at him and his giggling picks up in tempo. "Does this one work just as well as the one you've captured?"

He smiles when Gadreel shakes his head, giggling harder when he slowly lowers his hand over his belly, wiggling fingers and all. "No? But we haven't tested it yet, how could you possibly know?"

"Tuhuhus!"

His eyes widen comically. "Wow, it got you to use your words, that is mighty impressive." He plants his fingers on his belly, they just sit there, and the younger angel sucks in a breath. "Let's see what else it can do." He digs his fingers in slightly, and the younger angel squeaks cutely, scrunching up as much as he can. "Oh, I think I like this hand."

Titus wiggles his fingers into his belly and Gadreel shrieks, arching his back again, squirming around and wiggling under his fingers.

"My, my, someone _does_ have a case of the giggles." He tilts his head playfully. "But, what about…What about _both_ hands?"

Gadreel shrieks and shakes his head, hugging his captive hand to his chest as tightly as he can manage, and the Power gives a soft chuckle. "Exactly what I was hoping you'd do." He digs five fingers into his upper belly and five fingers into his lower belly, and the younger sentry loses it, he throws his head back and screams with laughter. "I've got someone's ticklish little belly right where I want it."


	196. Baby's First Real Home (Akriel & Avon)

"This is where you _live_?"

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking up in awe at the great looming structure, it's tall spires and grand pillars, the winding veranda, the soft glowing orange of the torches. His dad chuckles as he steps passed him, up the first finely cut stair, gesturing for him to follow over his shoulder. Avon takes one last sweeping glance of the great Infirmary and jumps up the stairs to make it back to his side.

"Only upstairs, in the Loft, the downstairs is where I work."

"What do you do?"

Akriel smiles down at him and his curiosity. "I'm a healer."

"You help people?"

He nods. "I do." A large hand ruffles his wavy locks gently. "I'm also a Virtue."

"A Virtue?"

"Think of it as a _very_ skilled healer."

They come to a stop at the vast entrance to the Infirmary, the grand doors standing open for all to open who needed to, and Avon takes it all in with wide eyes and mouth ajar, not wanting to miss a single thing. Akriel smiles at him, rubbing the back of his head tenderly, turning to take in the sight that was his home. "Like it?"

"It's….It's _amazing_."

"Well," they turn to look at the new voice, Akriel smiles in greeting, and Avon feels his cheeks heat up warmly. Raphael smiles at them both as he comes to stand next to them. "Thank you. I think it's rather nice. Took me forever to build, let me tell you."

"You…" Avon looks up at the archangel with wide eyes. "You _built_ this?"

"I did. From the ground up." He looks around his Infirmary proudly, hands resting on his hips lightly, smiling at his creations and healers within. "Took me nearly a decade."

"How….How old _are_ you?"

The Archangel heaves a deep sigh, refusing to look down at him, even as his Virtue snorts. "Akriel."

Avon looks up at his father when he presses his hand to the small of his back. " _Never_ ask an archangel how old they are."

"Sorry."

The mental specialist laughs softly, guiding him forward with his hand on the small of his back, Avon follows dutifully, his head turning this way and that, trying to take in every sight he could as he passed. Healers turned to watch them pass, whispering among each other at the sight of a Nephilim boy standing at the side of a Virtue, seeing a Nephilim among them was not unusual, their Archangel had a Nephilim daughter, but to see one as unfamiliar as this one was and walking next to the soft spoken specialist was an uncommon sight. Avon noticed their stares and stepped closer to his dad as they walked, Akriel felt him press into his side and looked down confusedly for a moment, taking in their surroundings, and sighed softly. "It's alright, they just don't know you, they're curious."

He guides his son to the back of the Infirmary, where his archangel's office is, down the hall to the stairs in the back, the ones that lead up to the Loft above their heads. Avon grips the back of his dad's tunic as they come up into a spacious lounge, soft pillows and blankets strewn about haphazardly, the place looks deserted.

"This is the Loft," he guides his son through the Lounge, to the benches and table next to the fireplace, and settles him on one of the benches. " _This_ is where I live."

"Dad…It's _huge_."

Akriel chuckles softly. "Well, there's ten of us, so it has to be rather on the big side." He reaches for a bowl on the shelf above him.

" _Ten_!"

"Yes," he turns to the cauldron of warm stew hanging before the fireplace. "There's six Virtues, and our charges of course," he fills the bowl half way and turns, setting it down before his son, nodding when he remembers that he needs a spoon. "And, then there's you. That makes ten."

"You include me?"

"Of course, I do." He passes him the spoon and leans back against the counter behind him. "What's with the twenty questions, eat your bowl of stew, and then it's time for bed."

"A _bedtime_?" Avon makes a face at the thought of it. "Dad, I'm _fifteen_!"

"Right, and you're a fifteen year old who _has_ a bedtime, so chop-chop."

Well, he was feeling a tad on the sleepy side, he nodded as he took a bite of potato and hummed at the taste of the spices, it was a tasteful and balanced stew, and he took another bite, this time of meat. "Dad, this is amazing."

"Well, thank you." Akriel smiles at him, nodding at him to take another bite, and Avon does so happily. It's just what he needed to fill in that little hungry spot in his belly. "I made it."

"You're a good cook, dad."

"I thank you for the compliment." He crosses his arms loosely about his chest. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

Avon finishes his bowl and stares down at it now that it's empty, he frowns lightly, his father chuckles above him. "Just a _little_ hungry, huh?" He scoops another ladle of stew into his bowl and hands it back to him. "Here's another bowl, baby boy." And sets the bowl down in front of his son for his seconds.

Avon makes a face. " _Not_ a baby."

"I could have sworn we'd been over this already." Akriel leans back against the counter again and crosses his arms again. "You're going to be my baby boy all your long life, so I'd get used to it."

"Can't you give me, I don't know, a _tougher_ nickname?"

"Sure," his dad nods at him in acknowledgement to his request. "When you're tough, I'll give you a tougher nickname."

Avon glared up at him, and he raised an eyebrow in warning, his glare lessened. "I _am_ tough."

"Sure, about as tough as a puppy." He points at him playfully. "That _giggle_ we heard back there was very _tough_."

The boy blushed deeply, bowing his head down to his bowl of delicious stew, and took a bite of potato. His father sounds amused when he says. "Yea, that's what I thought."

"Ak?" A sleepy voice echoed through the recently silenced room, they turn to see who joined them, and Avon recognizes the sleepy man that steps out of the hall into their cooking area. He's the one he saw for that brief moment when they opened the door to his cell and the archangel came in to deal with their matter at hand. "I heard you….talking…to…someone…...I recognize you." The new man, the one he knows from his memory, thought not by name, looks at him with curious confusion. "You're the one who made baby sister cry."

Avon tilts his head slightly. "Baby sister?"

"Iaso."

"She's… _She's_ your baby sister?" He looks between the nameless man and his father, its his dad who nods in confirmation. "Yep, she's the daughter of our old guardian, making her our baby sister."

"With that in mind," the other man turn's to look at his brother. "What's he doing _here_?"

Akriel smiles at him and gestures to the boy. "He's my son, Oren."

Oren, the once nameless man, turns to look at him with wide eyes, and he takes another bite of his stew quietly. "Your _son_?"

"Yep." His dad sounds proud, he's only know him for nearly a night and he's already proud, it makes him feel warm and tingly on the inside. "Making him your _nephew_."

"We have a _nephew_?"

"Sitting there in the flesh."

"Well," Oren turns to him with a smile. "Welcome to the family then, kiddo." He turns back to his brother. "I trust he knows what will happen if he should ever hurt our baby girl again?"

"Rather well."

"Good, good." The Captain of the Virtues smiles down at his nephew, reaching forward to ruffle his wavy locks. "Get your fill to eat and have a good night, little guy."

"I'm not little."

"Compared to us, kid, you're just a baby."

He grumbles under his breath and takes another bite of his stew. Akriel smiles at him in amusement and turns to his brother. "He's about the same size as Inca, would you mind if we borrowed a tunic and some trousers, he's going to be staying awhile." He nods his head firmly. "No son of mine is going to involve themselves into this childish squabble for attention."

Oren chuckles, nodding as he turns. "Sure, let me get you a pair."

Avon looks up to his dad as his uncle leaves them for the moment. "Who's Inca?"

"Your cousin." He gestures to his bowl. "Finish up and we'll head to bed."

…

A week passed by quickly for him. Thankfully he hasn't met that side of his father again, the angry side, the one that uses the belt, he'll remember that sting for a while to come and avoid it to the best of his ability. He met his other uncles, they're all really nice, even though he'd made their baby sister cry, his dad always introduces him proudly to whomever asks about his identity.

His sisters were really great, they had been sort of standoffish to each other at first, not sure where the other stood, but the tension had passed and they got along like family. Gzel was the wild one, always up to joke around and play a prank on his father or any one of their uncles, she was always quick to jump into the fray should a fight break out in the Infirmary, as rare as they were, not afraid to get her hands dirty. Orion was the quiet one, soft spoken and kind, a listening ear when one was needed, always offering advice and asking him how his day was going. He had met his cousins, Inca and Araton, and they were nice. Playful in their own way. Inca was teaching him silent speak, or sign language as the humans called it, rather happily that someone was taking enough interest to learn so that they could talk to him like a person.

He had chores to do around the Infirmary, making beds or folding laundry, refilling water pitchers and restocking Inventories, sometimes he got to help Zed and Araton pick their inventory from the atrium in the back.

Dad also sparred with him, keeping him up on his training, though he was a healer primarily, he was rather good with a sword and taught him things he didn't know every time they trained together.

…

Avon jumped forward first, making to strike him in the center, and his dad easily side stepped his incoming attack, smacking his bottom with the flat of his sword lightly, leaving him feeling flustered and rubbing at his stinging bottom.

"You're too eager." Akriel turned, turning his sword in his hand skillfully. "You're not focusing on the weak side."

"You're just better then me!" He gripes. "You've had more practice!"

"Be that as it may," his dad shakes his head lightly. "You're still too eager. You need to focus on your opponents weakside, mine is the right, I fight left handed, my right is my weakside. You can't always just jump into it, you have to be more strategic then that," he lowers his position. "Let's go again."

Avon falls into a similar position, his muscles on a hair lined trigger, and he jumps forward again. This time he aims for the right, just like his dad had said, but he's attack is met on equal standing and parlayed, he circles their swords around, disarms him in one foul move, and kicks his foot out from under him, sending him falling backwards in the grass of the Garden.

"I could see which direction you were going, your foot twitched to the right before you jumped forward, that's a giveaway."

"This is useless!" He just flops back in the grass, letting his arms fall outwards, glaring up at the clouds above. "You're just better than I am! I'm never going to get one on you."

"I have had more training, yes, but you've got skill in your own right." His dad raises his arms and jabs the training swords into the soft ground under them. "You'd be better at this if you weren't so unfocused." He crosses his arms loosely. "You're too flustered. You need to calm down. You'll get the upper hand if you focus on it."

"I am _not_ flustered!"

"Oh, yes you are," he points a finger down at him warningly. "That lip right there is the only evidence needed. You need to take a deep breath and calm down."

The boy tears a handful of grass out from under him and throws it at his father. "That's _easy_ for you to _say_!"

"Do you need help calming down?"

"I don't need help with anything!"

"I'll help you calm down." He glares at his dad as he comes to loom over him, feet parted and planted at both of his hips, and kneels over top of him. "I've been wanting to test this out, anyways, no better opportunity then now."

Avon tilts his head to the side. "Test what out?"

His dad smiles at him playfully. "If you're ticklish or not."

His eyes widen quickly, and he shakes his head, squirming under him for freedom, but his fingers curl around his sides and he falls still. " _Sure_ , I _believe_ that." There's sarcasm dripping from his tone as he speaks this false assurance. "If you're not ticklish, then this won't bother you in the slightest."

Avon's eyes widen comically, and he bursts into a fit of laughter, when he spiders his fingers up his sides quickly. His dad smiles widely down at him, fond amusement shining in his eyes at the display, and he stills his fingers if only for a moment. "You little liar." He squirms and laughs when he spiders his fingers back down his sides just as quickly. "You know what I do to little liars, like you?"

He giggles at the tingly sensations shooting up and down his sides, despite his dad's fingers being still. "Noho."

His dad chuckles in playful evilness and settles down onto his knees, straddling his hips with his legs, and leans over him just a bit more. "I give them a good tickle torture." And spiders his fingers up and down his sides quickly. Avon shrieks, bursting into bright laughter, and squirms under his restraint around his waist. The little space between his dad's legs and his hips allows him to twist and turn, up onto his right side, but it does nothing to inhibit his dad. He simply accommodates the new position by wiggling ten fingers into his left side, it brings forth another shriek, and he squirms under him like a worm, batting at his hands desperately. "You want me to focus on your left, you little wiggle worm, I can do that for you." His fingers circled around, moving passed each other up and down, wiggling in the back of his side, he arches his back in ticklish agony, and then down the side of his tummy. The fingers scribbling down his tummy brings another shriek and bright bubbly laughter erupts from him. "Oh, ho, does someone have a ticklish little tummy?" He claws his hand into his tummy, and he squeals brightly, his dad laughs at his ticklish misery, and vibrates his fingers into his tummy deeper. "We'll have to check that out next, then, it needs some loving." Avon shrieks, even when the hands pull away from his side and tummy, when fingers curl around his left wrist. "What about under here?" he lifts his arm with ease, holding it above his head, and pokes a finger of his free hand into the hollow of his underarm. Avon shrieks again, tugging at his arm, trying to pull it from his grasp and slam it back down. "Oh, someone has ticklish little armpits too."

Akriel smiles at the mess he's making of his only begotten son, wiggling his finger into his hollow a bit deeper, chuckling in amusement when he squeals brightly and tugs desperately on his captured arm. "I'm only using one finger and you're a mess." He stills his wiggling finger, sticking a second one into the ticklish little armpit. "What happens if we introduce another?" He wiggles both fingers around and Avon squeals again and wiggles under him some more, arching his back lightly, he reaches around with his other hand desperately as he tries to grad his two fingers. "This is precious." He lets go of his wrist and shoots his hands back down to his sides, digging into the muscle meanly, and his son arches his back again as he shrieks in laughter. "Tickle, tickle, tickle, baby boy."

"Dahahahaddy!"

"Yes, little guy, how can I assist you?"

"Tihihihickles! _Tihihihiickles!_ "

"I know it does, baby boy, that's what I'm trying to do."

Avon manages to turn back onto his back, dislodging his fingers from his side, and gulps in mouthfuls of air, residual giggles making his belly quiver. He chuckles at him, lifting his hands above his belly, and wiggles his fingers slowly. "Time for some tummy torture now?" The young Nephilim's eyes shoot to his fingers and his giggles intensify, he takes a deep shaky breath as he sucks in his belly, trying to keep it away from his dad's wiggling fingers as much as he can. His fingers press into his belly, and his breath hitches, in the bubble of air he holds in his mouth. His dad chuckles in playful cruelty and looms over him, peering down into his bright, shining eyes. "I'm going to give this ticklish little tummy the tickling of it's life, are you ready for it?" A few giggles escape his clamped lips and he shakes his head quickly. "I have _years_ of tummy torture to catch up on." He drums his fingers against the sides of his belly, and more and more giggles escape him, a tight smile spreading over his clenched lips. "Don't hold those adorable little giggles away from me, now, I love them." He wiggles his fingers into the quivering belly under him and the giggles increase in volume. "I _said_ to let me hear those giggles, you stubborn little thing." He claws his fingers into the slight pudge of baby fat and his son throws his head back and squeals in laughter. "That's much better."

He scribbles his fingers in a circle, his son laughing like crazy, throws his hips this and that, bucking himself as best as he can off the soft grass under him, he can feel his legs kicking behind him. He pinches at the pudge of baby fat and his son shrieks, with every single pinch, and then claws his fingers back in again, and he screams in laughter once more, batting weakly at his hands. He leans over him, digging his fingers in sharply, and he screams under his torture, throwing his head back again as he clenches his eyes shut. "That's it, laugh, baby boy, laugh your little heart out. Coochie, coochie, coo."

"Dahaha! Daahahhaddy! Dahahahaadddyyy! Behehehehelly! _Beheheheelly!_ "

"I told you this belly was going to get the tickling of a life time, didn't I?"

"HUhuhuhuhurts! Huhuhurts!"

He stops suddenly, and his son's chest heaves for breath, and he tugs his tunic upwards to reveal the shaking pale belly from underneath. "You're little tummy hurts, I can fix that, trust me, I'm a healer." Fingers curl into his hair when he shoots down and starts pressing kisses all over the belly surface, blowing a raspberry here and there, rubbing his beard into the sensitive skin, tugging at his hair desperately. Behind him, his legs kick wildly, his laughter falling silent as he throws his head back, and Avon feels his eyes burn with unshed tears.

He's never laughed this much in his lifetime, it feels liberating, his dad's playful torture is brutal, but it's fun at the same time. All he can do is laugh and laugh and laugh, jolting with every raspberry, screaming with laughter, silent bouts of it intermixed when he nibbles playfully at his slight baby pudge.

The beard makes it so much worse, too, it's scratchy and rough and itches across his belly.

" _Behehehahahahhaard! Beehehehahahahahard!"_

"My beards horrible, isn't it?" He takes a deep breath and shakes his head as he blows out a strong raspberry, rubbing in his beard at the same time. "Does your little tummy still hurt?"

His belly does still hurt, it's sore from laughing so hard, but he doesn't dare admit that to his dad. He'll keep on his playful torture, keep on _'helping'_ him. So, he shakes his head frantically, tears dripping from the corners of his eyes, and he screams when his dad blows in one final raspberry and pulls away.

Akriel smiles down at the breathless, giggling mess he's made of his young son, and pulls his tunic back down as he shifts to the side to sit next to him in the grass. Chuckling, the Virtue reaches out to rub at his belly, the boy jolts under him and squeals, expecting an attack, but he just rubs a soothing circle.

"Are you ever going to lie to me again?"

The boy shakes his head quickly, curling his arms around himself as he turns up onto his side, his fathers hand moving from his belly to the side of his head, rubbing gently at his scalp.

"Works every single time."

"Yohohour sohoho meahahahheeaan."

"So, I've been told." He tugs his ear lightly. "Have I told you that you're adorable." Avon nods. "Good, because you are."

His dad stretches out next to him, curling his free arm under his head, and tugs him close against his side. "No more training for today." He scratches at his scalp lightly as he begins to calm down. "Let's take a nap."

"That sohounds nihice."

"I thought you'd agree."


	197. Treating The Gardener (Akriel & Joshua)

"Ooooh, baby brother." He smiles as he enters the garden, they'd put Zaves down for a nice nap, and he had a promise to fulfill, "Where ever are you?"

The chirping of the birds in the vast Garden is the only response he gets, no sight nor sound of his precious, sneaky baby brother. Joshua has always been good at hiding from them when it came to them deciding he needed a bit of laughter in his life, their little Gardener worked much too hard, he'd use this time to put a bit of laughter into his quiet life and then force him to take a nap, when he was through with him.

He sees his brother's clippers and watering can resting lightly on the dirt path next to a rose bush, it had been the rose bush they had last seen him at, and he'd taken his moment of peace to find himself a nice hiding spot to hunker down in, hoping beyond hope that he would give up the chase and return to the Infirmary.

Akriel wasn't so easily deterred though.

He made a _promise_ , and he _keeps_ his promises.

And he doesn't make empty threats either.

"Oh," he spoke into the hush of the Garden. "You want me to _hunt_ you down, do you?" He waits, ears tuned for the possible crack of a twig or shuffle of a bush. "You know how much _worse_ it is if you make me find you, little willow." Not a sound of an angel, not a breath, not a single inkling of the other being hiding from him somewhere in the fauna. He chuckles as he leaves the evidence of his brother's being there laying in the soft dirt, walking slowly down the beaten path, gazing into the shadows of the trees and the dancing tall grass. "I'm going to have a nice go at that belly of yours." He speak out in the open, he knows that where ever his brother is hiding that he can hear him, and he hopes he can make a giggle of anticipation escape him, giving away his location. "It's going to get lots of love. It's so neglected. It needs as much attention as it can get." Silence echoes around him, the wind hums through the trees, the birds chirp above him, but nothing manmade. "And, let's not forget those little armpits of yours."

He pauses, listening for any sound that would indicate any direction, but there's nothing but the sounds of nature. This is Joshua's domain, he knows the Garden more then any of them do, save for their Archangel, he knows all the nook and crannies for one to hide away in. They always find him though, when they play these games of theirs, at the end of the day they get to have their way and their beloved little brother gets his.

Joshua is a workaholic, he works none stop, and sometimes he needs convinced to take a rest.

That's where they come in.

"And that bitty little neck, you could never stand it when we gave that neck some loving, those high pitched little giggles you give." He smiles, peering over a thick berry bush. "Music to our ears."

There it is. The slight rustle in the bushes. The sound he's been waiting for. He turns in the direction of the noise and steps through the bushes. The Virtue smiles as he comes to stand behind a tree, hands pressed lightly against trunk of the tree, he peers around it to the other side. His eyes meet those of forest green. "Found you."

Joshua shrieks lightly and pushes away from the tree, turning to run in the other direction, and he laughs softly. "I love this part." And darts around the tree to make chase.

They run through the trees, jumping over overturned tree trunks, off boulders strewn about, over bumbling creeks. Joshua nearly shakes him, through many twists and turns around trees of different kinds, but he manages to pick up the trail after a moments loss. He loves the chase, it's his favorite part, the delirious laughter that comes from his younger brother as he peers over his shoulder to see the distance between them makes his heart soar.

The chase doesn't usually end in such a manner as it did this time though.

He skids to a stop, watching with horrified wide eyes, as his brothers boot catches on a tree root, and he tumbles forward. His knees hit the ground hard as he rolls forward, rolling head over heels, he comes to a rocking stop. His legs spread in front of him, back curled inwards, he shakes his head to clear away the forming clouds.

"Josh!" The healer rushes forward, jumping over the tree root that had caught his brother up, and kneels behind him as he gently curls his fingers over his shoulders. "Josh, are you alright?"

His brother shakes his head, fists pressing lightly to his temples, and takes a deep breath. "I..I think so."

"Does anything hurt?" He feels at his head for any knots forming under his curls. "Your head? Your knees?"

"No…." Joshua shakes his head again. "No, I think I'm alright."

"Don't lie to me."

The Gardener shakes his head, this time in denial, and turns to look at him from over his shoulder. "I'm not, older brother."

"If you're sure?"

He nods this time. "I'm sure."

"Good." The Virtue smiles at him mischievously. "You know what's going to happen now?"

He giggles softly, nodding his head, and the older angel smiles at him fondly as he curls his fingers around his shoulders a bit tighter, to keep him in place, and steps around him to straddle his waist as he pushes him down into a laying position among the soft grass under them. "We haven't gotten to play together in months." He pokes him in the belly playfully. "Have you been taking care of yourself without our intervention?" The Gardener giggles lightly and nods his head, squirming under him, and he smiles at the younger angel. "You have? Good angel."

Joshua settles under him, his head cushioned on the soft grass, and he smiles down at him softly. "You know what I'm going to do now?" He pokes him in the belly gently and he giggles lightly, squirming from side to side, and swats at his fingers. "I'm going to give you the most torturous of all tickle tortures. To make up for lost time." He continues to poke him in the belly and sits back softly. "But where to start?" He reaches forward and wiggles a finger under his ear. "There's so many fun spots to go for."

"Ak, no!"

"Ak, _yes!_ "

He digs his fingers into his belly and the Gardener jolts harshly, bursting into bright laughter, he squirms from side to side under him. "How about we start with this belly, here?" He spiders his fingers over his lower belly and Joshua shrieks under him. "I've always loved this belly." He stills his fingers for a moment and Joshua breathes in frantically. "What do you say?" He wiggles his fingers lightly. "Should I go at this belly?"

"Nohoho!"

He looms over him, smiling down at him, and digs his fingers back in. Joshua arches his back, shrieking in laughter, and drums his heels into the soft ground underneath him.

Then his face drains of color.

Akriel pulls back immediately, frowning in distaste for the sudden loss of color, and rests his hands on his thighs lightly. "Josh?"

"Hurts."

"What hurts, baby brother?"

He grimaces. "My knees."

"You knocked them pretty hard." Akriel climbs up from his waist, falling into healer mode, and feels lightly at his knees, watching him for reactions. Joshua inhales suddenly, his legs jerking, when he finds the sensitive spot. "You've probably bruised them." He climbs to his feet, kneeling down, and slides his arms under the Gardener. "We should get you to the Infirmary to take a closer look." The younger angel curls his arm around his older brother's neck as he stands them up again.

…

"What happened?"

He'd crossed to their side at first sight of them. Raphael leaned over the Gardener's bed to pet his curls back, looking to his trauma specialist for clarification. Akriel places a pillow under the young angels knees and rests them gently over top of it. "He took a bit of a tumble in the garden while we were playing around."

"We'll get some ice, in case of bruising."

"You guys are overreacting."

"Hush you." The Healer taps him on the nose. "We rarely get the chance to dote on you."

Joshua blinks up at him, but cuddles down against his pillows and blankets, closing his eyes lightly. "I'm going to take a nap."

"Good. You could use one."


	198. Does Anyone Hear A Tree Fall (Joshua)

Stepping into the Garden was like stepping into another world, the birds sang above them a tune of their own, the wind danced through the tree tops, fawns ate at the grass between the trees, the flowers were bright and full, blooming constantly, the creeks were sparkling and bumbling, the lake deep and cool.

They had an appointment that day, him and his little apprentice were meant to come together with the Gardener to pick from patches of herbs that could only grown within the magnificent forest of the Garden.

Joshua was around here somewhere.

"I don't see him, Z." Araton stood on her toes as she tried to peer through the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive, quiet Gardener working and tending to his plants and fauna, but she couldn't see him. "He knew we were coming, right?"

"He did." Zed peered through the trees, gaining more distance from being able to stand over the bushes that blocked a majority of his apprentices line of sight, and frowned when he couldn't spot hide nor hair of him. He stood in his place as Araton stepped forward, heading down the dirt path some paces, and he saw her stop suddenly. "Z, I found something." He followed after her down the path, coming to stand behind her, peering over her shoulder to see what she had found. Clippers and sheers. So, Joshua _had_ been here. But it left them to the question of where he had gone. Zed kneels slightly, picking up the clean pair of sheers, turning them in his hands, and set them back where they had been left. "Let's split up, yell if you find him."

It was extremely unlike Joshua to leave his tools laying about. Not to mention, leaving those waiting he had set up an appointment with, he never left others waiting. If he said he was going to meet you, he was there, waiting, having arrived early.

"I'll go this way."

Araton slipped around him and began heading in the direction behind him, stepping through the bushes, he watched her disappear in the trees from over his shoulder. Sighing, the apothecary stood, looking out in the direction he was to go. "Josh, where are you?" He stepped through the bushes and walked into the tree line.

The young apothecary in training hummed to herself as she walked along, jumping over branches and off of rocks, she swung her arms lightly as she looked about her in the direction she was headed. Nothing appeared out of place, nothing seemed disturbed, there was no tracks to follow. Jumping onto an upturned tree, she held a hand up to her eyes and surveyed the area around her from her new vantage point, something caught her eye at the second sweeping glance. It was shiny and well maintained, a flat surfaced object, coming down to a fine edge, she squinted her eyes as she tried to register what it was.

An axe. It was an axe.

Jumping from her elevated vantage point, she ran through the bush and bramble to the location of the axe and came upon it soon enough. She kneeled, curling her fingers around the smooth wooden handle, and lifted it up to examine.

Their first clue.

"Mmmmm."

The sudden noise startled her, Araton dropped the axe to the grass under her, and her head shot up in the direction of the unexpected noise that broke the silence around her. Creeping forward, she turned a corner of a patch of trees, and her eyes widened.

"Josh!" There, laying before her, was their friend. His head turned, pressed into the grass, his eyes closed in unconsciousness. His hands lay in line with his head, limp against the grass, the trunk of a tree pressing heavily to his back, keeping him pinned to the ground underneath. He groaned again, as she slid to her knees beside him, reaching out to touch his face gently. "Josh!" The fingers of his right hand twitched, and she smacked his cheek slightly, trying to rouse him from his unconsciousness, he only groaned again. Araton scrambled down the tree, pressed her hands to the bark of the trunk, and pushed as hard as she could, but the trunk was too thick and too heavy for someone like her to move. "Josh!" Her hands shook as she sat up, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion at the sight of the chain wrapped around the lower half of the trunk, apologizing softly, though she doubted her light weight would add that much to the load he was already burdened with from the size and thickness of the tree, she climbed over the upturned trunk to get a closer look. His legs stuck out on either side of the tree, or at least, his lower legs did, and around his ankles, clasped tight, were a pair of manacles.

Someone had bound the Gardener to the tree and cut it down over top of him.

Josh groaned again.

Araton stood, her hands shaking, the flight or fight instinct kicked in, could the person who did this still be here. Could he still be watching her? Were they nearby waiting to strike again? She peered around the tree line, looking for any moving shadows, her chest aching as adrenaline took over. Climbing back over the tree, she knelt beside the unconscious Gardener, petting his cheek lightly. "I'm going to get help, okay, I'll be right back, Josh." She stood and darted off, running through the trees, darting around trunks, over upturned obstacles, boulders and rocks scattered around her, through the shallow creek, calling out for her master frantically. "Zed! _Zed!_ " She nearly tripped but caught herself and continued on. "Zed! Zed!" Cutting through the tree line, she came to the same place his tools had been left, and darted into the side her master had taken. "Zed! Zed! _Zed!_ "

She nearly tripped again, but strong arms curled around her before she could hit the ground, catching her up and helping her gain her footing again. "Woah, woah, slow down mustang." He leaned back from her. "What's wrong?"

"Josh!" She heaved for a breath, bending forward, she curled her fingers around her knees. "Josh! Hurt bad! Tree! Back! Chain!"

"Slow down, take a deep breath, and try again."

Araton nodded, looking frantically over her shoulder, her heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird. "Josh! He's hurt! A tree! A tree fell on him! I think it was done on purpose!"

The Apothecary's eyes widen as she tells him what she found, and he guides her around with a quick _'show me'_ and her fingers curl around his as she tugs him forward. He rushes forward when he finally lays his eyes on him, falling to his knees at his head, pressing his fingers to his neck to check for a pulse.

"Ara, go get help! Get everybody!" She nods, not needing to be told twice, and darts off quickly. Zed leans down, pressing his ear next to his younger brothers mouth and nose, listening closely to his inhale and exhale, he wheezes softly, broken ribs. He looks over him, there was no telling the damage wrought to his back from the landing of the trunk, he jumps over the trunk, examining the chains curled around the lower half of the trunk, and his insides boil with rage.

Someone had meant for this to happen, someone had chained him to the tree, and slowly chopped it down over top of him.

He looks over his shoulder when he hears the soft groan from the downed Gardener. "Josh!" And, jumps back over the trunk to come to his side again. He witnesses the fingers of his right hand twitch softly, and he reaches forward to curl the smaller hand within both of his. "I'm here, baby brother, helps on the way." He leans forward, lifting the hand to press it to his lips. "You're going to be okay."

Araton broke the tree line first, she was a fast little thing, quickly followed by the Captains of the Powers and the Virtues, their archangels coming up behind them, the others following at their heels. Nisroc and Oren's mouths fell open at the sight that waited before them, admittedly, when the young healer had told them, they hadn't believed her, but to witness it for themselves made it equally as terrifying as it had been when they had been told the assumed make belief tale.

Raphael pressed a hand to his mouth for a moment, rushing forward to his grown charge's other side, kneeling to press his fingers to his neck for a pulse. "How long has he been like this?"

"I don't know, we just found him, Araton found him like this." Zed looks up to the Head Archangel, Michael meets his gaze directly, his eyes wide in shock. "He's chained to the tree."

"Are you implying that someone did this intentionally?"

Zed presses his lips to the back of the hand when he feels the fingers squeeze his lightly, looking down to the injured Gardener, they all looked down at him with wide eyes as he groaned again. "He wouldn't chain _himself_ to a tree and chop it down."

The oldest archangel nodded in agreement, it was just hard for him to comprehend that someone would do this intentionally to another being. Michael turned to his Captain stiffly. "Nisroc."

"On it." He waved his hand to his Powers. "Disperse, scout the area."

They took off as ordered to see if the culprit was still hiding about.

Raphael turned to his older brother. "We have to get this tree off of him." Michael nodded in agreement. "Let me break the chains first." The Healer nodded, turning to his Virtues, and they all looked down to him for direction. "Get the back board ready." Constantine and Ephraim nodded, prepared to set it beside him, Oren and Akriel ready to turn him over onto it. The oldest archangel broke the chains with ease, and together, him and the Healer curled their arms around the trunk, and lifted it only just off of the Gardener's back. They struggled, nodding at the two Virtues, and they rushed forward. Oren and Akriel grabbed him around the upper arms and pulled him free from the trunk's path, curling him over onto the back board as the two archangel dropped the heavy trunk back to the grass under them.

They lifted the board carefully, looking down at their unconscious brother with great concern, and Raphael came to stand at his head, stroking his curls back lightly. "Let's get him to the Infirmary where we can explore the extent of the damage." They nodded, not needing to be told twice, and trudged off in a quick pace to get him there as soon as they could.

The Healer watched them disappear and turned to look at his brother from over his shoulder. "Michael, I want whoever is responsible for this to pay _dearly_."

Joshua was a gentle soul. He held no grudges, treated everyone with the kindness he held in his heart, no matter their past. To think that someone would want to harm him in this manner was unfathomable.

"This will be rectified, Raphael." Michael watched them disappear in the tree line with the wounded Gardener between them. "I will join my Powers in scouring every corner of the Garden and the investigation will be started immediately." He clenched his fingers into fists. "Whoever dared this will face their recompence."


	199. A Wilted flower (Joshua, Raphael, & The Virtues)

They moved as quickly as they could to get the Infirmary as fast was possible, calling for others to get out of their way, clear their path, as they made their way down the Axis to their final destination. Zed walked in pace with them, holding Joshua's hand within his own, and they moved faster with every groan that the Gardener gave. He was starting to rouse from his unconscious state, and the sooner they got pain killers in him, the better he'd be. There was no telling the damage he'd endured, not now, not until they got him to the safety of the Infirmary where they could look him over thoroughly.

"Keep him level."

They all nodded at Oren's firm order, adjusting their holds on the board to keep him straightened, as they began to ascend the stairs that led to their destination. Joshua groaned, his fingers squeezing at the apothecary's tighter then before, and Zed looked up at them with alarm. "Guys, I think he's waking up!"

"We're almost there, Z, we can't risk jostling him in the state he's in."

The Gardener groaned deeply, his fingers gripping at his brothers tightly, and his eyes began to flutter. His eyes open wide, looking around him in confusion, seeing the world move and not understanding how it was. "Mmmmmm…Hurts…Back….."

"Where's it hurt, Josh?" Constantine looked down at him as they crested over the final step and began their journey over the veranda at the entrance of the Infirmary. "Where's it hurt?"

"…Back…"

"Where at on your back?"

His fingers tightened firmly around his older brothers. "….Middle…lower…hurts…..."

"We'll get you fixed up, Josh, good as new."

He nods stiffly, flinching in pain, and groans again. Healers clear a path as they enter, watching them rush forward to a bed, the others kneel at the bed's edge, Oren lets go of his hand, motioning for Zed to follow, and looks down to his younger brother gently. "Okay, Josh we have to roll you over onto the bed, I'm not going to lie, this'll probably be quite painful." He gripped his shoulders firmly, Zed bent and gripped his waist, and he looked back down to him. "Ready?"

Joshua nods, inhaling quickly, nodding again as though to tell them to hurry up. Trying to be as quick as they could, and as careful as one could be, both Virtues lifted him, cringing at the scream that escaped him at the action, and turn him over onto his stomach. His breathing became erratic, as waves and waves of agonizing pain swept over every nerve, and he reached out for someone's hand, anyone, he needed a hand to hold.

Ephraim appeared in front of him, sitting on his knees, and took his hand carefully. He raised it up, pressing his lips to the smooth skin that was the back of his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We're here, baby brother, we're right here."

Another joined them, Akriel knelt beside the empath. "Josh, I need you to tell me what you feel?"

The Gardener licks his lips softly, his breathing slowly calming now that he was settled, but the throb was still present. "Hurts….It hurts….Hurts, Ak…."

"I know it does, baby brother, Zed's getting you something for the pain." He looks at someone above him. "Costa is going to press along your spine, you tell us if it hurts where he touches, okay?"

Joshua nods softly, as best he can, it's a slight jerk. Akriel smiles at him encouragingly, nodding at his brother above him, and he feels the pressure of hands pressing firmly against his back, starting at his lower back, and he gasps, groaning in pain. "Lower back, move up Costa, you're doing great Josh." Constantine does as he's told, moving his hands up a few inches, and presses in there, about midway up his back, and he gasps again, whining softly at the pressure and pain. "It seems to be directed more towards his lower back, Ak." The hands remove themselves from his throbbing back. "Moving up." They press against his spine again, towards his upper back, and while he flinches, his reaction is noticeably different then it had been previously. Akriel smiles at him, nodding up at their brother, and stands to converse with him over his head.

Joshua grimaces in pain, squeezing Ephraim's hand tightly, drawing his attention away from the conversation being had above him, looking down at him instead. "Yes, baby brother, what is it?"

"….Legs…."

He frowns in concern. "What about your legs?"

"….Can't…Feel…"

Oren appeared next to him, his eyes full of concern, and his travelled from one brother to the other. "You can't feel your legs?"

The Gardener blinks for a moment, closing his eyes for a breath, and his eyes open as he nods slightly, grimacing as he did. "…Can't…feel…legs…" The Captain of the Virtues frowned in concern, looking above him at the others, and then back to him. He reached forward to rub at his cheek lightly. "Everything's going to be okay, okay?"

Joshua closes his eyes, wishing Zed would hurry with his work, and gave the slightest of nods. He had faith in his brothers, they always came through for him, when they said it was going to be okay, it was because it would be.

Oren smiles at him, even though he can't see it, and looks up once more. "Ak, go get Raph." He curls his fingers around the back of the semi-conscious Gardener's head, fingers threading through his curls, frowning in worry. "This is worse then we thought."


	200. The Case Of The Great Itch (Raphael & Joshua)

"Can you do me a favor?" He asked the healer that met him at the entrance, the little healer looked up at him with wide eyes at his request. "Can you not tell anyone that I'm here?" The little healer tilted her head but nodded all the same, guiding him through the bustling Infirmary to an empty bed. He sat on the edge at her urging, holding his hands out to her at her beckoning, and she curled his fingers around the backs of his hands as she examined his red, bumpy palms.

"What happened?"

"A new plant." He smiles wistfully. "Freshly created. I was tending to it when it began to itch."

Ansiel looks up at him as she purses her lips lightly. "What kind of plant?"

"A new kind of vine, it's beautiful, small purple flowers sprout from the stalk, it winds around and around." He smiles again. "It's amazing."

"You shouldn't touch it anymore." Ansiel tilts her head at the crestfallen expression that crosses his features at her soft order. "You're allergic to it."

"But—But I _just_ created it! I love it! I can't _not_ touch it!"

"Josh, you're breaking out in hives."

"Life is full of struggles." The Gardener tilts his head slightly, a stubborn light taking over his clear eyes, and looks down to his hands. "Can you please just get rid of the itch."

"I'm not going to help you if you're not going to help yourself."

He narrows his eyes. "You have to," his jaw sets. "It's your _job."_

"We are always told we don't have to heal those who's injuries come from pure stupidity." Ansiel places her hands on her hips sternly, glaring up at the Gardener in stern fashion, and his eyes narrow once more. "If you aren't happy with my service, you could always take it up with my boss."

"Are you…Are you _threatening_ to tell on me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She shrugs lightly. "I'm merely saying I'd get the appropriate one to help your situation."

"It itches!"

The little healer crosses her arms firmly. "It looks like it does."

"Joshua?" He flinches at the voice coming up from behind, curling into himself, he curls his hands under his arms quickly. "What brings you into our humble abode?" The Healer presses his hand to his shoulder as he comes around the bed to stand at his young healers side, he raises an eyebrow at him, pursing his lips lightly, he reaches out to poke softly at a patch of red, irritated bumps. "What's happened here?"

The Gardener bites his lip and looks away from his old guardian, Raph would ban him from touching his beloved new creation if he found out, and he couldn't run that risk, he loved his new plant, his new ivy, a simple, small allergic reaction wouldn't stop him from tending to it. "Nothing."

Raphael hummed under his breath, nodding softly, and turned to the little healer at his side. "I will tend to him, Ansiel, you go tend to your chores." The young lady nods silently, Joshua sees her smirk at him as she passes around his bed, and he glares at her. "How do I feel about lying, Joshua?"

He cringes slightly. "You don't like it."

"Right." The Healer crosses his arms. "And, how do I feel about one lying about an ailment?"

He cringes again. "You _really_ don't like it."

"Correct." Joshua chances a glance up at his old guardian and flinches under the sternness that shines in his eyes. "And, what do I do to people who do what I don't like?"

The Gardener feels his face heat up softly. "You give them a switching."

"Do you want one?"

He shakes his head quickly. "No, sir."

"Then, how about you tell me the truth."

The Gardener nods his head lightly, pulling his hands out from under his arms, he reaches up to scratch at his cheek. "I'm all itchy."

"Don't scratch at it." The Healer swats his hand back down and takes hold of his chin, turning his head this way, and then that way, examining the rash that's spread over his smooth skin. "I can see that. I recognize this rash." He smiles in amusement. "It's the same type of rash you had when you first created Poison Ivy. I thought you were told to stay away from it."

"It's not Poison Ivy! Or, at least, not the kind I was told to stay away from! It's _new_!" Joshua smiles up at him adoringly, and he smiles down at him in return. "You should see it RaRa, it's beautiful, the stalk is a vibrant green, the leaves shine under the sunlight, bright purple flowers blooming from the branches! It's exquisite!"

The Archangel chuckles lightly, stroking a finger down the bridge of his nose in amusement. "You _created_ a _new_ type of Poison Ivy?"

"It was a marvelous mistake, I was trying to create a new kind of flowering vine, and somehow the extract from the Poison Ivy got in, a mistake, but worth it!"

He chuckles again, releasing his chin in favor of curling his fingers around his wrist, he first turned his hand over to examine the severity of the rash over his palms, frowning at the extreme blotchiness, and then pushed the sleeve of his tunic up, revealing a trail of red, irritated little bumps. "You really got into it, didn't you?"

"I had to shape it, RaRa."

"You are not to touch it again."

His mouth falls open slightly. "But, RaRa—"

"Joshua, you are not to touch it."

"But, it's my newest creation and—"

"Joshua, so help me," he looks up at him, pointing a stern finger at him. "If you touch it, I don't care how old you are, I'll take a switch to you _and_ let you deal with the itchiness all on your own."

The Gardener's mouth hangs ajar. "But..But.. _RaRa_!"

"I'm not joking."

"But…But…That's no fair!"

His old guardian pats his cheek lightly. "I'd think you were old enough to know that life is not always fair."


	201. Keeping Good Company (Titus & Gadreel)

"Alright, Abner you go to your appointment," the Power slides into the vacated spot left over from the Sentry's leaving the bed, curling his arm around the younger angel carefully, Gadreel curls against him silently, settling back down into a cozy state against him. Abner watches them carefully, not moving an inch, watching his younger brother carefully. "He'll be alright, Abner, I'll watch out for him while you're gone."

"You'll be okay, Gaddy?"

The younger sentry nods against Titus's arm, rubbing his cheek against the smooth skin, and the Power brushes his fingers through his soft locks. "I'll be okay."

"Alright." He nods lightly. "I'll be back in a bit."

They nod in sync, watching him turn and leave the room, Gadreel looks up at his older brother and Titus smiles down at him. "How are you doing, little guy?"

He looks down a moment, smiling at the finger that pokes at his nose, and he looks back up to the Power he's curled up with. "I'm okay."

"Just okay?" He strokes a finger down the bridge of the younger sentry's nose. "Not good?"

"I'm okay."

"I'm glad that you're okay." He taps the tip of his nose and pulls his hand back, smiling down at him fondly. "Do you want to play a game?" Gadreel smiles up at him, nodding quietly, and he returns the smile in kind. "Okay, our game is called the giggle game." He pokes him in the belly, and the young sentry giggles softly. "For every giggle, you get one minute of this." He claws at his belly, and the young sentry throws his head back in a fit of laughter, his hands shooting down to grab at the Power's fingers. "Do you want to play the giggle game?"

Gadreel smiles, biting back a giggle, and nods up at him. The Power chuckles down at him and nods, poking him squarely in the belly, he jolts softly, but swallows his giggles, so he pokes a circle around his belly button playfully. "You're doing better then I thought you would." He pokes him in the side of the belly, where he knows he's rather sensitive, and pokes him there a few times. Gadreel bites his lip, shimmying under his finger, edging closer to his side as he tries to get away. "Oh, those giggles have to be building up in there, why don't you just one go, just one itty bitty giggle."

The young sentry shakes his head.

"No?" He chuckles down at him. "What if I poke a bit here?" He moves his finger down to poke at his lower belly, just under his belly button, and this time he can't hold back the torrent of giggles that escapes him, shimmying from side to side, jolting with every touch. "Oh, ho, that was a giggle!" He poses his fingers at the ready. "You know what that means!" He claws his fingers into the lower belly surface, sneaking his fingers up under the tunic to claw at the bare skin, and Gadreel shrieks with laughter, shimmying, rocking from side to side, arching his back in ticklishness. "One whole minute of tummy tickles!"

"Tus! Tus! Tickles!"

"You said you wanted to play the giggle game."

Their minute passes and he goes back to poking him, this time he pokes him in the side, Gadreel bites his tongue, edging away from him, so he switches to the other side, poking up and down in a playful pattern, and he scoots closer again. "Let me hear those giggles." He pokes him in the lower side. "I like hearing those giggles." He moves upwards along his side. "Let's try right here." And begins poking just above his highest rib.

His young sentry shriek's brightly. "Oh, more then a giggle!" And claws his fingers into his ribs, spidering them up and down his side. Gadreel squeals, turning onto his side, fingers curling around the Power's hand as he pulls it up to clutch to his chest, Titus chuckles, curling his fingers around the young sentry's hand in turn and reaches over with his free hand to stroke his hair back. "I think that's enough of the giggle game." Gadreel giggles as he settles down, hugging the Power's hand to his chest, he cuddles closer to him. "How about we take a nap now?"

The Power's youngest sentry nods tiredly. "I'd like a nap."

"Then lets take a nap."


	202. Consequences For The Ring Leader (Nisroc, Paul, & Sasha)

"Do I even want to know how you two got into the Armory?"

"A true master never divulges his secrets." Paul watches his guardian return his weapons to his shelf in the true Armory, his tone was light but his tone was stern, Nisroc had his opinions on their halfcocked self-assigned rescue mission. The Captain spares him a glance from over his shoulder. "A _'true master',_ as you put it, would have planned a rescue mission well in advance."

Sasha makes a face at his tight tone, and steps forward, tugging at his tunic softly. "Are you mad?"

He sighs. "No, I'm not mad, though perhaps I should be." He crosses his arms and turns to face them directly. "I'm concerned. You should have gone to your flock leader with your concerns, but you did not, you decide to sneak out and come yourselves." The Power raises his hand and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Paul, Sashael, you could have gotten yourselves _killed_. What were you _thinking_?"

"We were worried about you, Nis, you didn't come back." Paul steps forward, curling his fingers around his arm, now was the time to plead their case, their hides were on the line now. "We knew something bad had happened. We _knew_ something bad had happened. We _knew_. It would have taken too long for them to come up with an actual plan! They would have hurt you!"

"Did you ever stop to think how _I_ would have felt if something were to have happened to _you_?" He uncrosses his arms, curling his fingers around his charge's youthful hand, he grips it tight, reaching out to caress his cheek tenderly. "You and your brother mean more to me then anything in this world. It would have broken me if something had happened to you all, to you two specifically, I love the others, but none so much as I love you two."

"We knew what we were doing!"

"I'll give it to you, Paul, you most certainly did hold your own, but what would you have done if they called for reinforcements?" Nisroc looks between him and his younger brother. "You, Paul, are only in your fourth year of training. You haven't even truly learned to use your grace as a weapon yet. And you, Sasha, you are only in your second year, you only just started using real swords in combat training. You are both, admittedly, very skilled in your classes, but you are still just students, you had the upper hand, but the tables could have easily turned on you, and what would you have done then?"

Paul and Sasha exchange a look before averting their eyes from his, shuffling their feet over the stone flooring, Paul reaches up to curl the fingers of his free hand around the hand caressing his cheek gently, pulling it down to hug to his chest. Sasha stepped forward, curling his fingers into the Power's sleeve, tugging gently. "But we're okay. We didn't get hurt. We all made it back safely."

"But you might _not_ have." Nisroc turns his attention to his youngest charge, his youngest boy, and Sasha flinched slightly at the heat in his stern eyes. They weren't usually so hot, so stern, only when he was upset at someone. And he was most certainly upset at them. "That's the part I keep focusing on, my young charge, that you _could_ have _not_ walked away from that unscathed."

"But we _did_!"

"That doesn't sway the other end that could have come down on you."

He shakes his head firmly, tugging his hand free from his older boy's grip gently, releasing his own grip on his other hand, and curls his fingers around the back of their necks. "So, while I appreciate your intentions, I can't let this go without consequence."

They look up at him with wide eyes, looking much like they were fledglings again, about to be punished for doing something wrong. "What…What are you going to do?"

Nisroc smiles at them firmly. "I think you know." They both swallow thickly and nod, looking down to their feet, shuffling softly at the thought of it. It's been some time since they've felt that. He rubs the backs of their necks, and urges them forward gently, and they follow his urging as they step forward. "Let's get this over with."

He leads them from the Armory, turning for a brief moment to close the door behind him, they listen to the tumblers and locks click into place, and then he leads them down the hall towards the stairs that lead to the Pavilion above. They would take this to his room, where they may have the privacy they needed, and the comfort of home around them while they endured their lesson. He was not so cruel as to force them to take it in the dullness of his office. Their lounge is empty as they enter it, those with charges are dealing with the matter in their own way, and those without are taking this time to rest from the ordeal. Michael had pulled them from their duties to give the time needed to rest and recuperate, and to deal with things that needed dealing with, they had been through an ordeal and wouldn't allow them to return to their active duties until a weeks time.

They walked passed Puriel's room, the faint sounds of sobbing reverberating through the wooden door, and they cringed for their friend and his fate, a fate much like the one they were going to face. His fate had ended, now was his time for comfort, and Puriel was good at comforting people.

They walked passed Hasmal and Haniel's room, managing a peek in through the crack between the door and the doorframe, they had pushed their beds together, laying curled together in the middle whispering to each other softly a conversation that was meant for their ears alone. Hasmal's hand was raised slightly, flames dancing from his fingertips, he hadn't been allowed to come with them on their mission, left behind to wait for their return. He had spent most of the time sleeping, it had been a bad couple of weeks he was going through, and Abner had been tasked with ensuring he took his tonic every four to six hours while Haniel and the others were away. Haniel takes hold of his wrist and pulls his hand down, blowing out the small flickering flames, pressing a kiss to his palm, he folds the hand down on his chest.

They cross between Abraxos' and Abraxas's room, her door is open, her bedroom empty, but Abe's room is full. They peek in as they pass his room too, his door is slightly more open then Haniel's had been, and he's curled up on his side, one arm outstretched over his pillow, the other curled around his younger sister's waist, his legs curled up under the blankets. Abraxas is laying next to him, his head resting on his outstretched arm, her legs folded over his, playing with her hands above her as she chatters softly on and on about all the things he's missed while he was gone. He's humming every now and them in acknowledgement to her words, but they know better, and they're sure that she does too, he's half asleep.

The last room the cross in front of is Titus's room, his door is closed too, for privacy, and they flinch at the sharp _whap_ of leather hitting flesh, and the howl that comes after, another _whap_ and a muffled sob. Sasha flinches harder then his brother does, though he's learned that Nis would never harm him just to harm him, and he never takes it too far, some fears are instilled deeper then others.

Fingers curl around his hand tightly and he turns to look, Paul smiles at him slightly, encouragingly, assurance in his eyes.

_It's just Nis, it'll be okay._

As if sensing his fear, he's always has this fear when he's about to be punished, Nisroc squeezes the back of his neck assuring him.

They enter his room, where they're about to meet their own fate, and he releases them, gesturing to one corner and then the other. "Go to your separate corners." They nod silently, Paul squeezes his hand once more, before they part from each other's sides. They listen to their guardian heave a sigh, as he walks around his room to tend to things that need tending to, Paul cringes at the sound of his wardrobe door snapping closed, there's only one reason he'd be fishing in his wardrobe.

The chair at his desk squeaks as he sits in it, and he sighs again, leaning back slightly. "Sashael, come here." The youngest of his charges stiffens at the call of his name, and he nods stiffly, turning from his corner to face his guardian. Despite the situation they're in, Nisroc still smiles at him, and it alleviates the tension gathering in his shoulders slightly. He gestures to the vanity. "Get the hairbrush on your way over." He whines softly as he nods, turning for the vanity, his fingers curl around the handle of the brush, and he turns back around to head back in the direction of his demise. The hairbrush is old and well used, it's a thick cherry wooden hairbrush, it's used for more then just brushing hair. Nisroc holds his hand out expectantly, and the young man passes the hair brush over to him, sighing, the Power pats his thigh. "Over." Sasha slowly lowers himself to position himself as he needs to, but he's stopped by a large hand pushing against his chest. "Bare yourself first."

"But, Nis—"

"Sashael."

He whines again, slowly unbuckling the belt from around his waist, and lifts his tunic slightly as he shimmies his trousers down. Ready for his stern lesson, he lowers himself over the Power's thigh, gripping at his ankle tightly as the back of the brush is pressed to his left cheek. "Fifteen in total. You will count them."

Sasha nods, going stiff when the brush is pulled away, he hears it hiss through the air as it's pulled back and brought back down. It's with a loud, sharp _whap_ that it lands solidly against his left cheek. He jumps, yelling out at the sudden sting, he can never truly prepare himself despite how much he tries to. He tallies off the first one with a yell and a shaky breath. The second one lands just as sharply against his right cheek, and a steady rhythm forms between each swat, one cheek after the other, until he sobs out the tenth one. The lesson has been taught, now its time to ensure its remembered, and he adjusts the position of his leg slightly. Sasha sobs over his knee, falling forward slightly at the change in position, the smacks that cut into his sit spots only count as one, the swat against the undercurve of his bottom only counts as one, and the swats at the upper portion of his thighs only counts as one. With one final harsher swat to either cheek, the Power pulls his hand back, reaching slightly behind him to set the brush down, rubbing a hand over the chastised youngling's lower back. Sasha chokes on a sob, and now that the lesson is over, he reaches back to rub at his burning bare bottom. "Come on, on your feet." He struggles to get to his feet and would have fallen forward had his guardian not been helping him back up. "Easy, easy." Once he's straight, he rubs miserably at his burning bottom, sniffling and tearfully crying as he bends over to pull his trousers back up, his hands are shaking, his fingers fumble with buckling his belt back up, but large warm fingers swat his out of the way softly and help him tighten his belt and buckle it securely, threading the excess through the band on the belt and helps him tuck his tunic back under his belt, just like they had when he had been a small fledgling.

For a moment, he fears that his guardian is going to send him back to his corner without any comfort after the whole ordeal, when he makes no semblance of intentions to stand from where he's seated. But then he does, when he's sure he's about to be told to return to his corner, his guardian huffs as he lifts himself from his chair, and he opens his arms for him. "Come here, my little fledgling."

Sasha sniffles, hiccupping on a sob, and dives into his arms. He hugs himself as close as he can manage, nuzzling into his chest deeply, rubbing his cheek against the Power's tunic. He's sobbing like a fledgling, his butt hurts, and he just wants to be held. Fingers stroke at the back of his head, soft, deep crooning hushes his cries until he's just hugging himself close to his guardian and sniffling and hiccupping. "There you go, it's alright." He pulls him away slightly, cradling his face in his hands, and leans forward to brush a kiss to his forehead. "Never put yourself into willing danger like that again, do you understand me?"

He looks down, despite the grip on his head tilting it back. "I understand." Nisroc smiles down at him, leaning down to press their foreheads together, and brushes his nose against his own. "Good." He kisses his nose and pats his right cheek lightly. "Go stand back in your corner." Sasha whines and sniffles, nodding at his order, and those large, warm hands release their hold on his cheeks as he straightens out, nodding to the corner he had come from.

Nisroc watches him go and sighs again, rubbing at his cheek lightly, and leans against the side of the desk under the window. One down, one more to go, he hated teaching these lessons, who would _want_ to make their loved ones cry in such a wretched manner.

"Paul." His brave, though mischievous boy flinches, ducking down slightly as his name is called, his turn coming to pass. "Come here, Paul."

The elder of the two boys ducks his head for a moment, and turns slowly to face him, he sets a firm expression over his features and beckons him forward. Paul drags his feet, though he does manage his way across the room at a snails pace, Nisroc is patient, so he waits. Paul comes to stand before him, and he gestures to the desk beside him, his boy bites his lip. "Clear the desk, Paul."

He cringes, and nods slightly, doing as he was told, he reaches out to clear the desk of its things. Moving them to the side, clearing a place, where he was sure he would be draping himself over for his own consequence. His fingers brush over the leather belt lightly as he sets a book next to it, and he chances a plea, turning to look at his guardian with wide eyes "Nis, please." Nisroc shakes his head, pointing with the finger he had been tapping against his lips, down to the desk. "Clear it." Paul nods quickly, and looks back down at the desk he's clearing, stepping back when he clears the middle of the desk. The Captain unfolds his arms and straightens once more, turning towards him more directly, he takes the belt into hand. "Bare yourself, Paul."

The boy whines, looking up at him with wide, puppy-like eyes. "Please, Nis."

"Paul."

He gulps, hands shaking, he reaches for the belt around his waist. He takes his time undoing it, the longer he takes, the longer he staves off the sting of his comeuppance. But he can't outlast his guardians patience, and sooner rather than later, he's undone the buckle of his belt and shimmies his trousers down.

Nisroc nods in approval and gestures to the cleared desk with the belt. "Over."

The young man whines softly, but folds over the edge of the desk, curling his arms under him, he buries his face into his arms to hide away him compromising position. A hand presses to his lower back, as though to keep him from moving, and he takes a deep breath when the belt presses to his bare cheeks. "Fifteen lashes. Count them."

He stiffens when the belt is pulled away, closing his eyes in preparation, he hears the whistle as it flies down through the air. Paul howls, jumping in place, when the belt makes impact, screaming out the first of a long count. Nisroc isn't pulling his swings, he's upset, they've really upset him. By the eighth thrash he's sobbing, jumping in place when the nineth is laid down, his face buried in his arms as he sobs his heart out like a small fledgling being chastised by their guardian for doing wrong. His hands fly back just as the belt comes down for the final blow, harsher than all the others, the one to leave a lasting impression.

Before he can realize in the attempt at inhibition, the belt lands, strapping over his fingers, and he screams at the stinging sensation. He ignores his hands for a moment, hopping in place from the sting in his bottom, tugging his trousers back up and ties them in place with shaking, stinging fingers.

He leaves his belt where it lays on the floor.

Then he takes notice of his stinging hands, a deep red line stretches over the tops of his fingers, and it only makes him cry harder. His butt hurts, his fingers hurt, everything hurts. "Paul!" Large, warm hands reach for his, pulling them away from his chest, out into the open for inspection. "This is why I always tell you to keep your hands in front of you."

"Hurts, Nis! Hurts!"

He raises his hands up, pressing a kiss to backs of the fingers of both hands, he looks up at him softly. "We'll get some ice for your fingers, alright?"

Paul sniffles miserably and nods, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. "Can we cuddle too?"

The Power chuckles softly. "Yes, we can cuddle too." He kisses his fingers again and guides him around to his bed. "You lay down and I'll be back with some ice."

Paul nods, leaning into him for a moment, before turning away to curl into his blankets. Nisroc pulls Sasha out of his corner before he leaves them for a moment, gesturing him towards his bed, and the youngest of his two charges scurries to lay down in his blankets. Shaking his head fondly, he turns, making his leave for a moment to get a thing of ice.

He returns a moment later, Sasha's curled around one of his pillows, dozing off silently. Paul is blowing on his fingers, they burn, and when he touches a finger to the patch of red skin, it's warm to the touch. "Here, little guy, let these sit on those fingers for a bit to keep the swelling down." The young man nods, letting the ice sit over the tops of his fingers, he sniffles and looks up at him. "Cuddles now?"

"Yes, cuddles now."

Sasha curls around his left arm completely and drifts off to sleep, content now, and Paul sidles up under his right arm, pressing against his side, using his chest as a pillow, he sniffles as he sets his fingers over the blanket.

Nisroc scratches at the side of his head softly. "Never do that again, okay?"

He nods, cuddling in closer. "Okay, Nis."


	203. Dealings With The Twins (Titus, Andrew, & Daniel)

He taps his fingers against the clipboard in his hand as he makes his way down the Axis towards the front gates, he has a long day of checking in with his guards, and there's no others better to start with then the twins. They always bring a smile to his features, their mischievous and cheeky, always trying to confuse those who can't tell them apart.

He can. He knows them like he knows the back of his hand.

Just above the heads of those milling about before the gates, he can see them, leaning back against the pillars they stand beside, resting their eyes for a moment at the lack of attention.

Crossing between the last two in his way, he makes his way up the stairs slowly, crossing his arms loosely as he comes to stand between them. They make no notion to acknowledging his presence.

So, he clears his throat.

The two of them jump forward, falling into a defensive position, and he chuckles at the pair of them.

"You two need to start going to bed at a reasonable hour." He looks between the two of them. "What do you even do so late?"

Andrew exchanges a glance with his twin brother. "Poker." Daniel smirks. "Drew's got no poker face." Andrew shoves him lightly. "You only win because you cheat." His brother shoves him back. "You're just a sore loser."

"Andrew, Daniel." Titus decides its best to intervene before an actual argument breaks out between them. "Go get some sleep. You two have a bedtime tonight." They make a face at him. "Yes, a bedtime, just as the first stars begin to twinkle."

"But—But—" The one looks over to his brother, Daniel stares at him with wide eyes, finishing the statement his brother started. "But that's so _early_!"

"It is, isn't it?" The Power crosses his arms lightly. "A good nights sleep will do you two some good."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Andrew rushes forward, grasping at the front of his tunic tightly, and he looks down at him expectantly. Whatever it is he's going to say is going to be good. "What if we promise to go to bed early, with no bedtime?"

He rests his hands on his hips. "Drew, do you take me for an idiot?" He reaches out to pat his cheek. "How about a counter offer, you two come stay with me tonight?"

"How is that a counter offer?"

"I wasn't done, you impatient, little guy." He pats his cheek again. "You two come stay with me and I'll scratch your heads until you fall asleep."

"You'll—"

"No, wait, Drew," his brother jumps forward, clapping a hand around his mouth, Drew debates the pros and cons of licking his hand. "I wanna see how far he'll take this." Titus raises an eyebrow at his young guard. "You'll scratch behind the ears?"

The captain of the guards chuckles lightly, reaching out to scratch a few fingers behind his right ear, his young guard sighs in content, and leans into his hand. "Of course, I would, you little puppy."

Andrew shoves his brother away slightly. "Me next, me next."

Titus smiles at him, reaching over to scratch behind his ear too. "Does that sound like a suitable counter offer?"

"I don't know, it's tempting, but we're not so easily swayed."

"I see," he tucks his clipboard under his arm and reaches down to rub his belly. "How about I throw in a few belly rubs too."

Daniel smacks his brother's arm lightly. "Drew, Drew, I like those things! I like them a lot!"

"Me too. Me too." He reaches out to shake the Power's hand. "Deal! You have yourself a deal!"

"Good." Titus pats them both on the cheek. "I'll see you two tonight."


	204. The Prison Guards (Titus & The Guards)

He smiled to the guard posted on the outside, patting her shoulder lightly, Aeshma smiles at him and opens the door to the Prison for him. He hates making his rounds through this place, it's always so dreary, and though there is no longer any torturing going on under the new command of the place, the screams still echo through the halls when one stands in one place for too long. It's left a shadow, a gloominess over this place, not that it's ever been a happy feeling that accompanies the Prison, it's darkness seems amplified because of the history this place has.

There's not many prisoners now, the few that can't be released into the general population, though there was many who found themselves trapped behind these bars, there were only a few who truly deserved it.

Naomi used to have a place here, but she'd been given the ultimate consequence by the Healer, and thus her cell was cleared out and ready for use should it arise. Zachariah has a cell here, he's a spiteful little angel, and would be here for the rest of his days, unless someone thought he was one deserving of a second chance. And that second chance would only come in the form of the Healer and the Viceroy, it was them he had betrayed, and it was them who could give clemency. Metatron has a cell her too, his crimes vast and long listed, a good one for trying ones patience. He still had his grand disillusions that he was meant to have a Throne among the Council, he was the scribe of _God_ , he was more important than any of them. Father had a new scribe, young Ishariel, she was a breath of fresh air against the older scribe; sarcastic, energetic, some might even say a bit loose lipped. She was not afraid to make her opinions known. Those were the most well known prisoners.

Most noticeably, on his part though, the place just beyond the door was empty.

There was a guard posted on the outside of the Prisons entrance, and on the inside of the Prisons entrance, no one got in and out without passing one of the guards.

Setting his clipboard on the empty stool, he looks about in the empty cells, there was no sign of the one meant to be posted here. "Teme?"

His voice echoed off the stone walls as it travelled down the long hall of empty cells, and he frowned at the lack of return, looking down the hall to his right, he waited for a moment for anything to show itself. "Temeluch?" And then down the hall on his left. Nothing but the echo of his own voice.

"I'm here."

Titus sighs in relief at the return of his call, it comes from before him, his guard walks slowly down the halls of cells towards him, his fingers curled around the staff of his spear loosely. Temeluch smiles at him lightly, and he returns the gesture, reaching forward as he comes to stand before him to squeeze his shoulders firmly. "Where were you?"

"I was getting a drink."

The Power nods at him, taking in his appearance, the bags under his eyes aren't as pronounced as they were previously, he's been sleeping better in this found peace between them all once more. The guards of the Prison needed just a bit more attention then the others did, the things they had seen, the things that had been forced to participate in, it left them haunted. He checked in on them regularly, they needed extra care, a helping hand to get them better again. Temeluch and Aeshma guarded the door, inside and out, often the last semblance of freedom some had seen as they were dragged to their fate. He was sure there was a number of souls who had latched onto the two guards as they were carried in, begging for help, begging for understanding, begging for the freedom they could not provide.

There had been many escape attempts that had been made, and it had been Temeluch who had the task of stopping them from doing so, catching them at the door and passing them back to the guards that would come running up for them, watching as they screamed as they were dragged away again.

"How are you doing, Teme?"

"I'm okay. I talk to Shamsiel every morning like I'm supposed to."

"Good boy." He pats his cheek lightly. "And your nightmares?"

Teme rubs at his head lightly. "Not as frequent as they were." He leans around the Power to set his spear to lean on the stone wall. "The only ones we guard now are Zachariah and Metatron." He makes a face. "I've never wanted to harm someone so much in my lifetime. All he does is go on and on and repeat."

"The fact that you haven't succumbed to such temptation makes me immensely proud."

"I am alright." The guard shrugs lightly. "As alright as one can expect."

"Good, good." Titus eyes him carefully, well fed, not too spent, sleeping as he should, and taking care of himself as he should. "You look well."

"I feel well."

He chuckles lightly. "Good, good." Titus pokes his belly swiftly. "And, you remember to smile?"

Temeluch smiles, stepping away from him, curling an arm around his belly. "I do. I don't need reminded."

The tall Power chuckles again, reaching forward to poke him again, snorting when his hand is smacked away. "Are you sure?" He manages to sneak in a poke just under his hand. "I'm be more than happy to assist you."

"I don't need help. I'm fine."

"If you're sure." He wiggles a few fingers at the guard anyway and Temeluch swallows a giggle, his captain knows how to turn them into squirming fledglings, he watches his fingers very closely. "Remember when you were a small, runt of a fledgling, riding around on my foot, following me everywhere I went." He wiggles his fingers again. "And, how I'd make you squeal like the little fledgling you were." He leans forward. "I could do that again."

"Please, don't."

The Power smiles, poking him in the side playfully. "Why?" He pokes him again and the guard jumps slightly. "Still as sensitive as you were all that time ago?"

"Sir, please."

"You calling me that only makes me want to do it even more."

" _Tus!"_ Teme jumps away from him when he reaches out again. "Please! _Please!_ "

"Maybe not here." He leans over for his clipboard. "But I'll have you rolling in the grass of the Garden again."

Titus smiles at him from over his clipboard. "But not here. Since you asked so nicely." He taps his clipboard with his quill. "Are you keeping up with your training?"

"Training?"

"If you decide to be cheeky about it," he points a finger at him warningly. "I'll change my mind."

"I'm keeping up on my training."

"Good boy." He checks off something. "Any incidents to report?"

"None over here. Though, Sorath is half about ready to punch Metatron in the face."

"I see," Titus tucks his clipboard under his arm, gesturing for the door at the other end of the hall. "Are they just beyond there?"

"Just beyond there, the prisoners were just fed."

"I thank you, Teme, you may return to your duty."

The guard of the door nods, taking his spear back in hand, he sits on the stool to the side of the door. Titus smiles at him as he steps forward, patting his head as he leaves him to sit there, listening to him tap on the metal door beside him, his sister tapping back from outside, they never cease to amaze him.

Just beyond the hall, behind the door that separates one wing from the other, is where they keep the prisoners. Where the other guards are located, just posted outside the cells, Zachariah has learned to keep quiet, Metatron was still learning that particular lesson.

Titus examines his clipboard as he closes the door behind him. "Sorath, put him down."

"He needs to learn to close his mouth."

"I said," the Power looks up at him from over his clipboard. "To put him down."

"Or what?"

"If you need reminded on what happens to those who disobey my order, I can remind you," he lowers his clipboard. "Right here, right now, for everyone here to see."

Sorath had been a Power elect once, his attitude had taken that privilege from him, but Titus was never one to give up on those who needed some assistance. Sorath was talented in his position, he knew his way around a sword, but his temper was a short fuse, that was one of his only weaknesses. He'd taken Sorath under wing, showed him what happens when he loses his temper, and helped him control his anger.

It was a work in progress.

Sorath drops the exiled scribe in his cell and steps back. "No, I don't need to be reminded."

"Good." The Power crosses easily to his side, grips his sleeve, and tugs him away from the cell door. "Sit back down, here." He scratches a few fingers through his hair. "Take a deep breath." Sorath takes a deep inhale of breath. A moment passes and he smacks him lightly over the head. "Let it out, you little idiot."

Sorath snorts as he lets his breath go. "You only said to hold it."

"I'll hold _you_." He grips the back of his tunic, by the collar, and scratches a finger behind his left ear. The temperamental guard slaps a hand over his mouth before a fledgling like giggle can escape his lips. "Is he getting on your nerves, Sora?"

"He makes me want to strangle him."

Titus nods. "Don't do that, you're doing so good Sora, you've been minding your temper." He tugs at his ear lightly. "I haven't had a report come across my desk in nearly three months."

The Power rubs his head lightly, turning to the cell behind them, he snaps his arm through the cell bars and snags the uppity scribe up by the scruff of his plain tunic. "You're going to shut your mouth, sit on your cot, and eat your supper."

"I—"

"Metatron." The Power pulls him close, his front pressing against the bars, until they're face to face. "You _are_ going shut your mouth, sit on your cot, and _eat_ your supper. Or so help me, I will come in there, and I _know_ you don't want that."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try my patience. Who would tell on me, myself, or my guards? See who comes out on this one, Metatron." He shoves the prisoner back. "Now, shut up, and eat." The scribe stumbles back, stunned into silence, and sits on his cot to eat his supper.

He turns to his other two guards. "Osmadiel, Rahab, how are you two doing?"

"Hi Tus!" His female guard rushes forward, hugging him around the chest tightly, and he laughs softly as he circles his arms around her. "Hello, Ra."

Rahab is a rarity among those that take station at the Prison, her disposition is too bright for such a dreary place, he's offered her time and time again to be reassigned but she always takes to coming back here every time. No hesitation. She loved her station.

She smiles and bounces back, tucking a stray red curl behind her ear. "We missed you, Tus!"

"You missed little old me?"

"You're not little!" She throws her hands out. "You're _huge_!"

Titus narrows is eyes slightly. "You mean tall, right, _'huge'_ as in _'tall'_ , right?"

"Well, yea!" She smiles up at him brightly. "You're a giant!"

"And you, you're a little sprite, you know that?" He pokes her nose and she giggles softly, hugging him again before stepping back for her stool. Osmadiel smiles up at him. "I've been well."

"Good, good." He turns to the one beside Sorath. "And, you, Sabaoth?"

"I'm doing well, too, Tus."

"That's great to hear, and you're all sleeping through the night?"

Osmadiel looks to his sister, her bubbly demeanor fades just a bit, as she looks down to her feet. "Ra still has nightmares some times, but we're all doing better."

He looks to the young guard with concern. "You still have nightmares, how often?"

"Not too often," she scuffs the toe of her boot against the floor. "Just sometimes."

"Have you told Jahoel about them?"

Titus frowns lightly when she shakes her head, after a moment of silence, and he pets her curls softly, she looks up at him guiltily. "I didn't think they were that important."

"Of course, they're important." He kneels, brushing his knuckle under her chin. "I want you to go see Jahoel in the morning, alright?" She nods. "And, tell him about these nightmares, too."

"Okay." She nods lightly. "I'm sorry, Tus."

"Hey." He tilts her head up. "No harm."

Rahab smiles up at him. "You're great, Tus."

"Only as great as you are."


	205. The Greatest Reunion Of All Time (Raphael & Azazel)

He paced anxiously in front of the doors to the Infirmary, wiping his hands on his soft tunic, on his thighs, he fiddled with the belt around his waist, with the chain around his neck, biting his lip all the while as he paced anxiously in front of the Infirmary doors.

What if he didn't want to see him?

Their last meeting hadn't exactly been the best of occasions, they had words, both left broken hearted.

What if he wasn't welcome anymore?

He'd grown up in these walls, playing under the feet of an archangel and a gaggle of healers, getting into all sorts of mischief. He'd been a great guardian, caring, loving, playful, all the makings of a great older brother and mentor. He'd shown him everything he knew. And he'd betrayed that.

"Zaz, you'll never know if you don't go in."

He peered over his shoulder at his Captain, Semyaza smiled at him encouragingly, squeezing his shoulder tightly. "Yaza, the last time we saw each other he was locking my in a dark, hot tomb under a mountain." He looks back at the Infirmary doors, they're closed, though unlocked, anyone can open them and enter. They were closed to keep the cold of winter out. "What if I'm not welcome anymore?"

"Zaz, he still loves you."

"You don't know that though." Bright golden eyes turn to his brother. "He could hate me now."

"I don't think so. He's always been inordinately fond of you." He makes a teasing expression. "Father knows why though, you're nothing but trouble." He pushes him forward slightly. "Can we go inside now, Zaz, I'm cold."

"You go ahead, I'm gonna stay here, I can't do it." He shakes his head and backs up a step. "I can't face him."

"Yes, you are." Semyaza takes him by the collar and drags him forward. "You're going to have to face him eventually."

"Eventually doesn't mean today!"

"Azazel, I'm not above dragging you in there." He tugs him closer to the door, gripping the door handle with his free hand. "Besides, you stay out here, and you'll catch a cold, do you want the first meeting after hundreds of years to be when you're sick?"

Azazel only puts up half a struggle, if he's going to step foot in that place, it's going to be forced. Semyaza keeps hold of him, and pulls open the door, shoving him in first before stepping in himself. The healers nearest the door pause at their entrance, he himself had business to attend to with Zed, and brought his brother with him to get him off his back about the Healer.

The Captain of the Grigori waves at the apothecary of the Virtues, leaving his brother stand in the entrance of the Infirmary, trusting him to close the door behind them. Zed waves back, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the other Grigori standing in the door way, and elbowed Akriel in the side lightly, nodding in his direction when the mental specialist turned to look at him inquisitively.

"Close the door," a large dark hand slammed the door shut behind him, and he jumped at the sudden bang, at the voice that he knew so well. "We're not heating the outside." He hears the rustling of a file being flipped through. "And who might…" The voice trails off. "Azazel?"

He stiffens, flinching slightly, and looks to his feet in sudden interest. "Hey…Rapha.…..."

"Turn around and face me."

He drops his shoulders and turns, though without lifting his head, his feet are incredibly interesting at the moment. "Azazel." A gentle, warm hand cradles his cheek. "Look at me, butterfly." He chances a glance up, and once his eyes meet those bright blue eyes, he knew that he couldn't look away again. "You've been avoiding me."

"I thought you were still mad at me."

"Oh, little butterfly, I was never mad at you." He strokes his cheek with his thumb. "I was never angry. Father was, though, He was furious. But I was never upset with you."

"You weren't?"

"No, I wasn't." He curls his fingers around the back of his neck and tugs him in. "Give me a hug, little butterfly, I've missed you so very much."

Azazel smiles, he can't help but smile, as he folds himself around the Healer, clutching at his tunic for all he's worth, curling himself around the archangel as best as he can. He's missed this, being in his embrace, feeling the light static that comes from his touch, missed the hum of electricity running under his skin, the warmth of his grace, the scent of the ozone and pine trees. He missed his Healer, his best friend, his guardian, everything. "I missed you Healer."

"I can only hope that you're not mad at me." The Grigori shakes his head, nuzzling against the Archangel's chest, curling his fingers tightly in the Healer's tunic. "For what I was forced to do to you."

"I'm not mad. I can't be. It was my punishment for what I had done."

"A crime that did not befit the punishment." He strokes a hand down the back of his head. "What was forced upon you was barbaric. Even for us."

He rubs his cheek against the Archangel's chest. "Can I stay with you?"

"I still have work to do."

Azazel doesn't want to let go. He doesn't ever want to let go. "Can I help you, then?"

"Your definition of help, and mine, are two completely different things." Raphael scratches the back of his neck gently. "But I'll tell you what, I happen to have a warm bed and a nice fire going back in my room at the Villa, you're more then welcome to come back with me for the night."

"With warm, fluffy blankets?"

"The warmest and the fluffiest." He pets his hair gently. "Does that sound nice?"

He nods, tucking himself into the Archangel's chest, taking a deep breath to regain himself. "That sounds great." Azazel looks up at his Archangel with wide eyes. "And, and, you'll read to me like you always did?"

"I'll even let you pick the story."

"Oh, lightning bug, I missed you." He burrows back into the Healer's chest. "I missed you so much."


	206. Getting One On Big Brother (Nisroc & Abraxos)

He wakes slowly, blinking into awareness, and looks around at his surroundings, taking note of his wrists bound above his head, his ankles bound below him, and sees quite a few familiar objects around the room that tells him just who’s room he’s in.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” He looks over, his brother smiles at him, the book he was reading clomps closed as he sets it aside. “I have to say, Raph really knows his stuff, knocked you out in less than a minute.”

“You..You drugged me?”

His brother looks extremely amused. “I did.”

“W—Why?”

His brother pushes the desk chair back in, making his way across his room slowly, coming to stand at his side. “Because, I thought you could do with a bit of light hearted fun.” He reaches out, poking him in the belly lightly, it’s then, as he follows his finger, that he realizes his shirt is missing. “You’ve been a right grump recently, Sablo said you gave him a tongue lashing for something undeserving, he’s quite upset with you.”

“I—I did?”

“You did, Nisroc, he’s quite upset right now.” He waves it off. “Raha’s taking care of it.”

“I’m sorry, Abe,” the older Power averts his eyes. “It seems all I can do recently is let you down.”

Abraxos hums softly, reaching out to stroke his cheek, drawing his eyes back up to him. “You didn’t let me down. I forgave you, Nis, when will you forgive yourself?”

“I can’t, I can’t, Abe,” Nisroc looks away again. “I hurt him, I hurt him so badly, I turned away from him when he needed me most, I _betrayed_ him.”

“You did.” His brother nods lightly, kneeling on the side of the bed. “But he’s forgiven you, I’ve forgiven you, you need to forgive yourself, you’ve grown grumpy and gloomy in your grief, you need to lighten up and move passed it.”

“I—I just can’t, Abe. I’m sorry. I can’t.” He sighs deeply. “I guess I’m letting you down again.”

“Now, you stop that.” His brother pokes him on the nose, his tone growing firm, and it draws his attention back up to him. “Stop apologizing and stop saying you’re letting me down. You don’t need to apologize, I’m not upset, Sablo’s upset, but he’s not mad at you, and he’ll be fine again once Raha is through with him.” He tilts his head down at him. “We need to work on you. You’re the life of us, if you’re grumpy and gloomy, then so is everyone else, it’s a burden, I know, but we can’t have that.”

“I—I don’t understand..” He curls his fingers around the belts curled around his wrists. “Why am I tied up?”

“So, you don’t fight back.”

“Fight back…What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to clear those gloomy clouds away.” He climbs over to sit on his waist, straddling his waist, and rests down gently. “I’m going to turn that frown upside down. Bring that light back to those stunning blue eyes.” He leans over him and they stare at each other. “I’m going to bring their papa and my brother back.”

He doesn’t seem to like the implications of that statement. “…Abe?....”

“And, being me, I happen to know all the right buttons to push.”

“Abe, don’t you dare.”

“Oh, what are you going to do?” He runs his fingers down his inner arms, and he twitches slightly, flexing his fingers. “You’re all tied up.”

“I won’t be forever. You’ll have to let me go.”

“And, when I do, I expect you to see to Sablo. Raha will cheer him back up, but only you can dissipate his anger, and if you still want to, you can seek your revenge then.” He trails his fingers up and down his inner arms, smiling at his older brothers twitching, he knows just how sensitive the older Power is. “But, until then, you’re all mine. To do what I want with, anything at all, we’ve got some work to do.”

“..Abe….Please…..”

“Aww, big brother, you don’t need to ask me so pitifully, I’d be more then happy to.” Nisroc inhales deeply when he poises a finger into his armpits. “Don’t you worry.”

“Aaabe…”

“Oh, Nis, big brother, I love it when you beg.” He wiggles his fingers lightly and the older Power squeaks, a high-pitched fledgling-like squeak, and it makes him laugh softly, he loves his big brother very much, the older Power giggles lightly, flexing his fingers again. “You can give it, but you most certainly _can’t_ take it.”

“Eeehehehehehhehe! Lihihihittle brohohother! Eeehehehhehehehe nohohhoho!”

“Coochie, coochie, coo, big brother.” He crawls his fingers downwards. “How about these tender ribs, oh, I remember me these ribs.”

“Nohhohhhohoho! Nohhohot theehehe rihihihibs!”

“Oh, the ribs?” He curls his fingers into the older angel’s ribs. “These ribs?”

“Ahahahahabe nohohoho! Nohohoot theheheheere! Nohohot thehehehe rihihiibs!”

“These ribs?” Abraxos smiles as he squeezes in. “Right here?”

The elder shrieks brightly, rocking slightly, and he laughs with him, clawing into his ribs vigorously. “Eeieieieiaiaiaiaaahahhahahahahahhahaa thehehehehehere! Thehehehheheereee!”

“Here?” He digs his index fingers into his highest ribs. “Right here?”

“Thehehehere! Aahahahhaabee! Eeeieiieieeiiaiaaiaahahahhahaha Nohohohot theehehehehere! Thahahahat’s bahahhahaad rihhihihight thehehehereeieieiaiaiaaahahhahahhahaa!”

“Oh, this highest rib seems to be _very_ tender.” Nisroc breathes a giggly sigh of relief when his fingers stop assaulting his ribs, but he knew it was too good to be true, when his brother smiles _that_ smile down at him. “I wonder how that tender little rib tastes.”

“Ahahabe! Nohohoho! Nohohot thahahat! Nohohot thehehere! Pleheheease! Eehehehehehhee pleheheheease Ahahhaabe!”

His brother merely laughs down at him, leaning over to the side, this fingers of his left hand curling around his right side, as he leans in for his left ribs. “Let’s give it a try.” Nisroc clenches his eyes shut, his brother is about to do the unthinkable, the absolute worst thing there is to do, and he tries to prepare himself for it. “Looks tasty.”

Abraxos laughs softly when he squeals, as he begins to nibble on his highest rib, his older brother bucks under him, tugging desperately on the belts binding his wrists above his head. “EEIEIEIAIIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO EIEIEIAAIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAT! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAAN’T STAHAHAHHAND IHIHIHIHIT! AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEEEIEIEIEIIAIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA PLEHEHEHHEEASE! AHAHHAHAHAABBABABEEEE! EEIEIIEAIAIIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOT NIHIHIHIHIBBLEES EIEIIAIAIAIIAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE RIHIHHIHIBS EEIEIIEIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Why not?” He teases, he can’t help himself, his brother is adorable like this. “It’s mighty tasty.”

“AHHAHAABABAABEEHEHEHEHHEHE! EIEIEIIAIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO NOHHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE! EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAEEEIEIEIIEIEIIEIAAHAAHAHHAHAHA! PLEHEHHEHEEASE! AHAHAHHAHABABAABE! EIEIEIIAIIAAIAAHAHAHHAHAA IHIHIHII CAHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT!”

Abraxos looks up when he hears a soft snap, his eyes widening as his brother’s hand breaks free from its binding, and he gulps softly, dropping himself on the older Power’s chest, hugging his arms around him tightly, clenching his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, big brother, I was just trying to make you feel better, have mercy on me!” The older angel’s chest rumbles with soft residual giggles, and he feels him move as he reaches up to undo the belt around his other wrist, he expects an attack, his brother to serve his vengeance, and he prepares himself for it, growing tense in anticipation.

Arms curl around him, fingers scratch at the back of his head, and he feels his other brother press a kiss to the top of his head. “Thank you, baby brother, I needed that.” He slowly relaxes under the gentle scratching on the back of his head. “You always know what to do to make me feel better.”

“I love you, big brother,” he opens his eyes. “It hurts me to see you so upset.”

“With a baby brother like you at my side, it’s near impossible to stay upset.” He scratches the back of his head a tad firmer, and Abraxos knows his calling for his attention, so he turns his head up, resting his chin on his older brother’s chest, so he can meet his eyes. “Untie my ankles and we can take a nap together, just you and me, like old times.”

It’s rare that they get a moment between each other, alone, anymore, and he’s not going to pass up on the opportunity. Abraxos pushes himself up, turning around slightly, and reaches down for his brothers right ankle, then his left, and turns back around. Nisroc opens his arms for him, and he lays himself down, pressing the side of his head into the crook of his shoulder, his beard rubs against his forehead, and those arms curl back around him.

They lay together in silence, their legs tangled together, his brother rubbing soothingly at the back of his head, and he sighs softly. “Promise you’ll forgive yourself, big brother, I don’t like seeing you feel bad.”

“I’ll try, baby brother, and I’ll continue working everyday to gain your trust back.”

“I do trust you, big brother.” He presses a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. “Always. You made a mistake. I can’t hold a mistake against you. You were impaired by grief. Lord knows, what I did when I lost Chayy and Raha was nowhere near what you did.”

They didn’t talk about it, what Abraxos had done after he’d lost his two young Elects, Titus and Puriel didn’t know the true extent of it, they’d only seen small episodes, the co-captain had been a mess, he’d made his fair share of mistakes. Nisroc can’t even begin to count the number of times he’d found his brother passed out, face down in the pool of the washroom, having drank himself into unconsciousness.

He’d benched him, kicked him off the team per say, took him off active duty, until he got his act together. He’d yelled, oh, how he’d yelled, when Puriel had found his mentor and had been forced to shove charcoal down his throat to force him to regurgitate the contents of his stomach, the medic had avoided his mentor after that experience, avoided him to the best of his ability, saying if he wanted to drink himself to death then he’d do it alone, that he wouldn’t join him and dishonor Chayy and Raha in such a manner.

“If you can still trust me after all that,” Abraxos rubs at his chest lightly. “Then, I can most certainly forgive you for this.”

Abe was sober now. Only drank when he was being supervised. Only on Christmas and New Year’s.

“I love you, baby brother.”

“I love you too, big brother.”


	207. Dangers Of Distractions (Raphael & Azazel)

"Azazel, I adore you, you know I do," the Archangel pushes the Grigori back lightly. "But I'm busy."

"I'm not doing anything!" The Grigori holds his hands up in surrender, leaning back against his hands, kicking his legs lightly back and forth. "I'm just sitting here all well mannered and not being a bother."

He narrows his eyes at the younger angel. "You're being a nuisance." The Healer points a finger at him sternly. "If you interrupt my work again, I am going to have to force you to leave."

"But, but, but," he pouts his lip out slightly, if only because he knows it melts the Archangel's heart, Raphael wags his finger at him. "Now, don't give me that look, I gave you fair warning."

"You'd kick me out after everything."

"Don't you think to guilt me into letting up, you know the rules, we've been together since Semyaza dragged you in here last week."

"I'll stuff snow into your pillowcase."

"I dare you to." The Archangel turns back to the file he's working on. "See what it gets you."

"You're a task master."

"Someone has to keep you in line." He reaches out with his free hand and squeezes at his knee lightly, it makes him yelp and kick, the Archangel chuckles lightly. "It's my burden, unfortunately."

Azazel grumbles under his breath, turning to peer around the room, kicking his feet once more. They fall into companionable silence together, the scratching of the quill loudest over the dull rumble that is the mixture of voices in the Infirmary, he whistles softly to himself, waiting for his moment, he tilts his head up to look at the beams above them, and kicks at the chair the Archangel sits on.

The quill scratches across the page, leaving a dark line across the words that's been sprawled across the paper, and he smirks to himself when the Archangel inhales deeply. "Okay." He sets his quill down firmly. "That's it."

He yelps when fingers curl around his ankle and lifts his foot up, turning him on the top of the desk towards the Archangel, and the fingers of his free hand dig into the meat of his thigh. He, admittedly, shrieks very loudly. Tugging at his captured ankle desperately, he braces his other boot against the edge of the chair, and pushes as much as he can. "Raph! Raph! I'm sorry!"

"Oh, no you aren't. Not yet." He squeals when he lifts his leg up and spiders his fingers over the underside of his thigh. "It appears you've forgotten what happens when you _disrupt_ my work." The Archangel stands from his chair, tugging the Grigori around, he leans in between his legs as he releases his grip on his ankle, and digs his fingers into his sides instead, spidering them up and down in a tickly dance. Azazel shrieks, squirming from side to side over the desk top, shoving desperately against the Archangel's arms. "Let me _reteach_ you this lesson."

"Raahahahahaaphaaahah!"

"I'm clearly not teaching this lesson properly if you're still able to speak."

He switches up, digging the fingers of his right hand into his upper left ribs, and spidering the fingers of his left around his belly. The Grigori shrieks brightly, throwing his head back in laughter, he lifts his legs, bracing his heels against the side of the desk. With this opening, the Archangel reaches back, spidering his fingers up and down his under thighs, until he squeals and throws his legs back down.

"Lihihiiihi! Lihihihiihight! LIGHTNINGBUG!"

"Let's make this a memorable lesson, shall we?"

Raphael smiles down at him, looming over him from the side of the desk, between his legs, and presses a kiss to his forehead as he reaches behind him.

The moment his fingers dig into his shoulders, he screams, Azazel _screams_. His wriggling and squirming reaches new levels of desperation. He shoves frantically at his archangel's chest, trying to lean away from the fingers, but they follow, no matter where he goes.

"Have we learned our lesson, yet?"

He nods, oh, how he nods.

The Archangel gives one last dig into his shoulders and pulls back, kissing his nose as he does, and plops back down on in his chair. Azazel huffs, giggling breathlessly, and curls his arms around his belly. The Healer chuckles, petting his hair back lightly, scratching gently at his scalp. "Are you okay?"

"That…That was brutal."

"Ah, but I'm sure you'll think twice about interrupting me."

He nods tiredly, smacking his lips quietly, his Archangel rubs his fingers over his forehead. "Why don't you go curl up in front of the fire and take a nap," he scratches his head lightly. Azazel shakes his head, reaching up to take the Archangel's hand, and hug it to his chest. "I don't want to leave you."

"There's a desk over there beside one of the beds, let's move over there, I can work and you can nap."

"You're the best, Archangel."

"And don't you forget it."


	208. Unwell Mannerisms (Semyaza & Jeremiah)

His anger is a slow simmering anger as he strides down the halls of the Choir Pantheon, listening to the hums and lessons going on around him, he’d taken notice of his missing vials, he’s much more observant then he’s given credit for, of course, he’d notice.

He turns to one of the doors on the end and pushes it open. The class of fledglings look up at the mighty Grigori’s entrance, the tall angel pays them no mind, his eyes meeting those of his query, and he feels a sense of pleasure when they widen for a moment and unease settles in them, they knew they’d done wrong, they knew they weren’t to be taking things from his stores, they _knew_ there would be consequences when he _did_ find out.

“You’re all dismissed for the day.” The fledglings look from him to their instructor as though to seek his guidance, and he nods faintly, dismissing them for their lessons for the day. The fledglings cheer softly and jumps from their seats, running for the door, but he only has eyes for the other, their connection doesn’t break, they stare at each other. “You’ve been in my stores.”

“H—How do you know it was me?”

Semyaza narrows his eyes slightly. “ _You’re_ the only other one who knows the combination to the lock, _Jeremiah_.”

The fledgling instructor raises his hands defensively. “Y-Yaza, I can explain.”

“You’re sick.”

He blinks slightly in surprise. “How did yo—”

“I guessed, from the vials you took; upset stomach, headache, sore throat. Sounds like a cold. You should have stayed in bed.”

“I—I couldn’t-“

“So,” he steps forward slowly, stalking almost, like a predator after it’s prey. “Let’s name the crimes, first, you’re clearly unwell, you _know_ you’re unwell, and yet, you refused to properly take care of yourself.” He reaches out to grab his wrist. “Second, you _knowingly_ put the fledglings at risk with your unnecessary actions.” He tugs him forward by the wrist, Jeremiah yelps as he stumbles forward, and jumps slightly when a sharp swat claps over his bottom. “I think we need to have a private _conversation_.”

“Do..Do we have to?”

He nods firmly. “I think we do.”

Jeremiah nods, stepping forward as his older brother tugs him forward, leading him out of his classroom. Others are smart enough not to interfere as they march along, by the way the instructor is being led and the expression on his features, they go uninterrupted as he pulls him up the stairs to their quarters, tugging him down the hall to his room, right across the hall from the younger’s, and tugs him inside, closing the door behind them. He stands him in the center of his room, silently commanding him to stay there, and turns away from him, opening the door to his wardrobe, pulling out a long-sleeved tunic and a pair of shorts, turns back to the younger angel, and holds them out. “Change into these.”

The younger angel nods, changing silently, watching his older brother complete a few menial tasks, taking his boots up, untucking his shirt, removing his belt, and he gulps, when he sees him pick up the old wooden hairbrush, he knows what that’s for, he knows very well.

Semyaza sits on the edge of his bed, watching the young instructor tug the long-sleeved shirt up over his head, and raises his hand when he goes to put on the shorts. “Not those, not yet.”

“…Yaza….No….”

“Come here, Jeremiah.”

He shakes his head. “Not the brush….No…..”

“Jeremiah, do not make me come get you.” He waves a hand at him. “Come here.”

He fiddles with his fingers, but nods, he knows it’ll only be worse if he makes his older brother come to get him, himself. Semyaza takes the shorts from him and tugs him around, down over his lap, Jeremiah gasps softly, curling his hands together, tucking them under his chin. He quivers when he feels him pull the bottom of the long long-sleeved shirt up, and his drawers tugged down slightly, a hand presses to the small of his back, as though to offer a semblance of comfort. “It’ll be over before you know it, baby brother.”

Jeremiah nods, shrieking softly, bouncing in place, when the brush claps down harshly over his right cheek, then his left, back and forth. Semyaza is strong, very strong, and he doesn’t pull his blows any, they rain down fervently, one right after the other, clapping their way around his bottom and down to his thighs and back up again. He cries softly into his fists, pressing his hands over his mouth lightly, and kicks out slightly when the burning starts to become most unbearable.

Right when he thinks it’s never going to stop, the smacks come to an end, and he’s righted onto his feet. Semyaza leans over to set his brush on the bedside table, and hands him the shorts to put on, he’s still crying softly as he does, his hands shaking lightly.

“Come here, baby brother, come to big brother.” His older brother stands from the side of his bed, his arms held open for him. “Come here.”

He sniffs softly, stepping forward into his arms, feeling comforted when they wrap around him, a hand curling around the back of his head, fingers winding through his silky blonde curls. “I don’t feel good, Yazaaa.”

“I know you don’t, baby brother, you need to learn to allow yourself to be taken care of too.” His fingers scratch at the back of his head lightly. “You take care of everyone else, just not yourself, you need to take care of yourself too, Miah.”

“Will….Will you take care of me, Yaza?”

“Always, baby brother, I’ll always take care of you.” He guides him around. “Let’s get you into bed, you’ll sleep with me, so I can keep an eye on you.” Jeremiah lets himself be guided down to lay among the pillows and the blankets tucked under his chin. “Do you want your penguin, Miah?” He bites his lip and nods. Semyaza smiles down at him, stroking his curls back, and nods lightly. “Alright, I’ll go get him, I’ll be right back.”

Jeremiah nods, watching his older brother turn and disappear out the door, he hears the door across the hall open, his room, and a moment later it closes, and his brother returns, with his beloved stuffed penguin. “Here you go, baby brother.”

He takes his penguin and hugs it close. “Thanks, Yaza.”

“Not a problem,” the older angel strokes his curls back again. “You get some sleep. I’m going to work on my journal a bit. I’ll wake you up in a short while to give you another dose of medicine.”

“Okay, Yaza.”


	209. A Bit Of Down Time (Semyaza and Jeremiah)

“Yaza, you wanted to see me?”

The apothecary looks up from the bowl of water he’s mixing, soap bubbles cover the top, the scent of mint and chamomile fill the room. A record plays soft soothing music, the blazing fire makes the room warm, and he takes in the sight of the brushes and towels, a clean tunic folded next to him, one of the elders, and he looks back up to meet his eyes.

“Yes, I did,” Semyaza nods, and waves him in further. “I want to groom your wings.”

He grows rigid, he didn’t like people touching his wings, not after both times in the Prison, not after what had been done to them, because of this, they weren’t tended to as much as they should have been. “W-What..?”

“I want to groom your wings, they look a mess,” the elder nods towards the bed. “Go on and lay down, take your top off.”

Jeremiah shakes his head. “N-No, Yaza, no.”

“Why not?” Semyaza looks back up at him, drying his hands with a small hand towel, tilting his head slightly. “You used to love it when I groomed your wings.”

“I-I…I don’t like people touching my wings.” Jeremiah looks down to his feet. “Not after…. Not after what they did.”

That confirmed his fears, Semyaza had heard the rumors about a choir elder being tortured while incarcerated, there were a number of elders, he hadn’t thought of the true possibility of it being his younger brother, his beloved baby brother, it had crossed his mind some, but Jeremiah hadn’t seemed any different then when he last saw him, perhaps a bit quieter, but he’d always been as silent as a church mouse.

“Oh, Miah.” He crosses out from behind the table, holding his arms open, and his younger brother steps in them. “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry. If I could take it all back, I would, I would in a heartbeat. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have left you, I should have been there, I should have protected you.”

Jeremiah presses himself into his brothers shoulder, holding on to the back of his tunic, and closes his eyes lightly. “I-I….I don’t want to be hurt again.”

“Oh, baby brother, I would never hurt you, you know that.”

“You hurt me when you left.”

Well, that’s a stab to the heart, and there’s nothing but truth in that statement. “I know, baby brother, and I will do everything in my power to make it up to you.” He strokes his fingers down the back of the younger angel’s neck. “I can see them, they’re quite ruffled, they must be quite uncomfortable.” He smiles when Jeremiah nods his head lightly. “How about this, you hold onto my feathers, and if I happen to cause you any pain, you give them a nice sharp tug, does that sound good?”

Jeremiah bites his lip, he _did_ used to love it when his big brother groomed his wings, Yaza had always done it just right, it had always felt so good. He nods lightly. “Okay, Yaza.” He inhales deeply, this is big for him, this was the first person he was letting touch his wings since Raphael had healed them. “Promise…Promise to be gentle?”

“Aren’t I always?” He scratches a finger down the middle of the back of his neck. “Go ahead and take your top off.”

The instructor nods, pulling away from the older angel, and slowly tugs his top up over his head, Semyaza follows suit, tossing his tunic to rest on the desk chair, and takes his to do the same. The Grigori rolls his shoulders, and his wings appear, stretching wide, one reaches forward, flicking over the younger angel’s cheek, and draws a small smile from him, he counts that as a victory, small, but all the same.

Jeremiah stares at his wings, they haven’t changed at all, still dark blue, dark navy, speckled with white spots, like stars in the night sky.

Semyaza smiles at him, pulling his wings back, nodding slightly. “Your turn.”

The younger angel nods, closing his eyes tightly, as he pulls his wings forth, he expects some sound of exclamation, and opens his eyes when he receives none. His older brother smiles at him. “Though ruffled, they still look as fluffy and soft as I remember them being, I can’t wait to feel them to see if it’s true.”

“You…You don’t think they’re ugly?” His wings weren’t what they used to be, still blues and purples, like a galaxy, but there was bald spots, scars. “They’re…. They’re ruined.”

“They’re _perfect.”_ He looks up again when he feels fingers stroke through a patch of ruffled feathers. “Just as _perfect_ as they’ve _always_ been.”

Jeremiah smiles up at him, jumping forward, the older angel yelps when he collides against him, pressing his face to his chest. “I love you, Yaza.”

“I love you too, Miah, very much.” He rubs at his back, reaching up to rub at the arm of his wing. “Let’s go settle down, and I’ll give you a nice gentle grooming.”

“Okay, Yaza.”

They part, Jeremiah sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for him, watching as he moves his things to the bedside table, then he climbs up against the pillows, his legs spread slightly, and pats his thighs encouragingly. The fledgling instructor nods, tucking his wings in close, as he turns, crawling up between his brother’s legs, Semyaza places a pillow down for him to lay his head on, and scratches gently at the back of his head. “Spread your wings for me.” Jeremiah nods lightly, spreading his wings, just as he was requested to, letting them hang limply over his back.

Semyaza curls his fingers around the younger angel’s hands gently, guiding them back to his own wings, pressing them into the fine feathers. “Grab hold.” Fingers curl in his feathers, he doesn’t have to see, he can feel it. “Remember, you feel any pain, or any discomfort, you give my feathers a nice tug, alright?”

“Okay, Yaza.”

The apothecary Grigori nods, letting the soft music take over the empty space, and reaches for the first scrub brush, dipping it in the warm water mixture, he rubs of over a bar of soap, lathering it up. He starts first at the middle, over a bald spot, swirling the scrub brush around in slow gentle circles, scrubbing at the soft skin as gently as he can. He pauses, when he feels the tug on his feather, his little brother’s shoulders shaking slightly. “Miah, you okay?”

His younger brother nods lightly, releasing his grip on his brother’s feathers, and settles back down. Raising an eyebrow, he begins his gentle scrubbing once more, looking up at the tug on his feathers, his baby brothers shoulders start shaking again. “Miah, am I hurting you?”

Jeremiah shakes his head lightly, his shoulders still shaking, he’s still scrubbing.

“What’s wrong, then?”

“…..Tihihihickles!”

He smiles lightly. “It tickles?”

The youth instructor nods. “Yehehes!”

“Well, that’s good to know. We’ll have to explore that further.” He scrubs a tad harder and the younger angel shrieks softly, tugging on his feathers, and Semyaza chuckles lightly. “You’ll just have to suffer through it. I’m giving these wings a good scrubbing and grooming. And, you’re going to lay there and take it.”

Jeremiah grips his feathers as he scrubs around his wings, first with the left, then over to the right, his shoulders shaking the entire time, shaking with repressed giggles, it makes him smile, and he shakes his head fondly a few times, sometimes he scrubs just a bit harder to make him shriek, and receives a particularly sharp tug on his feathers in return.

He trades the scrub brushes out for a towel, and gently dries them, trading that out for a bottle of mixed oils, straightening and smoothing the galaxy colored feathers, the shine in the light from the oils. He massages his fingers into the sensitive skin, listening to the soft purring noise his baby brother makes, his fingers kneading into his feathers lightly, tugging softly and release, tugging softly and release.

When the kneading slowly slows to a stop, he smiles, scratching light at the skin under the feathers, calling out softly. “Miah?” He gets no response, and he chuckles softly, scratching around gently. “Sleep well, baby brother.”


	210. Given To A New Home (Moriah and Zander)

“But, papa, I wanna stay with you!” He protested as the Warden tugged his new coat over his shoulders. “No, no, papa, please, I wanna stay with you!” He didn’t want to go with the other man, he wanted to stay here, he wanted to stay with Thaddy, he wanted to be with his papa.

“I’m sorry, Zan, but you can’t.” Thaddeus’s heart breaks, it truly does, the boy’s cries penetrate deep in his heart, but he steels himself, there’s so much that has to be righted, so much to go through, he won’t subject the youngling to that kind of risk, it wasn’t fair to him, and he cared about him too much. “Moriah’s really nice. You’ll love him. He’s been really excited to take you home with him.”

“I don’t want him, papa, I want you! I want you! Please, papa, I’ll be good, I’ll be really good!”

“Oh, Zan,” he cradles his cheeks in his hands, rubbing away the tears with his thumbs, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “I know you _are_ a really good angel. I’m sorry, Zan, I am, I just can’t let you stay.” He turns, holding out the mittens for him to slip his hands into, and Zander does, his lower lip quivering dangerously, and he holds his octopus out to him in quick succession. “Take Bubbles.”

“But—But, Thaddy, please! Please, papa!”

“I’m sorry, Zan, I am, but you have to go with Moriah.” He gives him a firm warm hug, presses another kiss to his forehead, and turns him around towards the healer that awaited them. “You’d best be going, Father’s calling for a blizzard, just after nightfall.” He gives the boy one last side hug, pressing another kiss to the side of his head. “You be good, alright, I don’t want to see you coming back. You’re going to love staying with Moriah, I know you will, you just have to give him a chance.”

“B—But, papa—”

“I’ll come see you in a week.” Thaddeus pushes him forward slightly, closer to the healer, and Moriah smiles at him gently, his file tucked under one arm, a bag of the belongings he’d collected through his stay strung over his shoulder. “You be good. Go on, it’s time you get home, before the snow comes.”

Zander drags his feet, he doesn’t want to leave, but he knows if he refuses and throws a tantrum, that’ll make Thaddy upset at him, and he’d still go, but with a sore bottom too. Moriah gestures for him to step out first, and he hugs his stuffed octopus close as he steps through the doorway, he hears the clomping of the healer’s boots as he follows. The others call to him as he walks down the hall, whistling and calling out their goodbyes. He’s going to miss them, he’s going to miss Thaddy a whole lot, he’s going to miss the cuddles and the tickles, he’s going to miss coloring in his office, the games they played, he’s going to miss it all.

…

Moriah walks at his side as they crunch through the snow on the street, down the Axis, to a little cottage. He leads him up the path, and opens the door for him, letting him step in first. He takes off his boots when he’s told to, gently, Moriah sounds like he’s nothing but gentle, and he shrugs off his new coat to hang next to the healer’s on the hook by the door.

The rooms toasty, the fire is dancing with life, Moriah gestures around. “This is the living room.” Zander looks around mutely. There’s two stockings hanging on the mantle of the fireplace, a large full Christmas tree in the corner with lots of gifts underneath, a large couch under the large front windows, snows already falling. He follows him forward. “This is the kitchen, there’s the table, I made your favorites, are you hungry?” The healer turns to look at him and he shakes his head, hugging his octopus close, not uttering a word. “Alright, I’ll wrap it up for later, then.” He steps forward, leading him towards the hall just beyond the kitchen. “Let me show you to your room.” He leads him down the hall, gesturing first to the door at the end. “The washroom is through there.” He gestures to the room on the left. “This is my room, you’re always welcome.” And then he turns to the room on the right. “This is your room, I went a bit overboard, I just wanted it to be perfect.”

Zander nods, stepping forward as the healer opens the door for him, and he peeks inside, standing in the doorway. His bed is pushed up under a large window, the snows gathering on the windowsill outside, it’s a big bed, and it’s all his, this warm blankets, to top comforter has little octopuses and other sea creatures on it, as do the pillow cases, the sheets are a deep sea green, the blankets pulled back, ready for someone to climb in. The fireplace is blazing brightly, warming the room up, garland and candles decorate the mantle piece. There’s his wardrobe, and a desk on the other side of the room, and beside him, along the wall directly to his right, is a large aquarium, small octopuses and jelly fish and sea horses and other sea creatures swim around contentedly.

Moriah presses his hand to the small of his back cautiously. “Do you like it?”

He looks up at the older angel mutely, staring at him, and hugs his stuffed friend tighter, he doesn’t acknowledge in any way, he turns back around, stepping into his room silently, and climbs into the bed, pulling the covers over himself, and just lays there, as tears flood into his eyes, he presses his face into his stuffed friend’s tentacles as they slip out.

The healer sighs, nodding silently, he’d expected this, he wasn’t upset about the silent treatment, it was a big change, and the boy clearly had an attachment on the Warden, he’d called him _‘papa’_. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He doesn’t get any sort of response, not that he expects one, and turns away as he pulls the door closed.

He hums to himself softly as he makes his way back down the hall, to box up the supper he’d made and put it in the icebox for safe keeping and washes the dishes he’d used to cook. He busies himself with putting the goodies he’d gotten into their stockings, making sure the gifts under the tree are just right, and sits himself down on the couch, sighing softly in the silence around him.

Akriel had given him the next couple of nights off to get his new charge settled in, he leans back against the back of the couch and closes his eyes, he must have fallen asleep, when he comes to, the snows really coming down and the fire needs a few extra logs, what startles him though is the boy, standing at the end of the hall, watching him silently, a blanket curled around his shoulders and his stuffed octopus hugged to his chest. He’s been crying, he can still see the signs of tear tracks on his cheeks, the tip of his nose is still tinted red, but he doesn’t say anything on that matter, he won’t if the boy won’t.

Zander licks his lips softly. “Will….Will you read me a story?”

He pushes himself up quickly, nodding fervently. “Of course, let’s go pick one out, I’ll read you as many stories as you’d like. I got a whole bunch, I couldn’t pick, so I got all of the ones I could find.”

Moriah stands behind the boy as he picks a few story books from the bookshelf next to the aquarium, he picks out six in total, turns to pass them over to him, and turns to the other side to return to his bed. The healer nods, following after, and stretches out on the other side, next to him, in the bed. He raises his arm slightly, not sure what he’s expecting, and he smiles, not expecting him to slide in closer and tuck himself under his arm, resting his head in the crook of his shoulder, his arms still hugging his stuffed octopus. “Alrighty, let’s read some stories.”

…

Zander expects to wake up alone, he doesn’t know what the healer’s shift is, and he doesn’t expect him to have taken off work for him, but when he wakes, he blinks, staring at someone’s chest, he feels warm arms curled around him, a beard brushes over his forehead.

Moriah was still here.

He smiles slightly, pressing back in closer, he feels those arms tighten around him for a moment. “Do you want breakfast now, or to open your gifts?”

The youngling shakes his head slightly. “No, I wanna sleep some more.”

“Alright, we can sleep some more, we’ve got all day.”

He feels a pair of lips press to his forehead, and he smiles slightly, he still misses Thaddy, but he promised to come visit at the end of the week, and Moriah wasn’t so bad.

They had French toast for breakfast, they were big and fluffy, really yummy, he decided Moriah wasn’t that bad of a cook, then they opened presents. He started with his stocking, his stuffed octopus sitting next to him, his stocking was full with all sorts of goodies; new crayons, a coloring book, a package of cookies, candies, there was a roll of socks. He took a bite from one of the cookies, to test the taste, and hummed in delight, finishing off the cookie quickly, it was very good.

Then he started with the boxes, unwrapping them slowly, not wanting to make a mess. He got a few more stuffed animals; a monkey, a shark, and a large hippo. He got some board games, and another coloring book, two coloring books, a bunch of toy cars and a track to run them on, he got an airplane, a robot, that moved and made noise, he got some new clothes, some of their kind and some human pajamas. He liked the pajamas, one set was covered in sea creatures, another covered in little octopuses, and another with little llamas. He got a toy train, that made noises and puffed smoke, and a track to run it on. He smiled, he got another box of those yummy cookies, and he happily ate one up.

Zander smiles lightly, looking up at the healer sitting on the couch behind him. “You didn’t have to get all of this.”

“Of course, I did.” Moriah smiles down at him, leaning forward to ruffle his curls. “I wanted this Christmas to be special. You deserve everything in the world.”

He ducks his head, smiling into the blanket around his shoulders, his eyes shining as he looks back up to the healer behind him. “Thanks, Moriah.”

“Always, little one, always.”

…

Their week went by quickly, the time flew, Zander had such a good time he hadn’t even realized it until Moriah told him. He was so excited, bouncing around the cottage, Thaddy was going to come visit today, he’d said he would, Thaddy never said anything he didn’t mean. He ate his breakfast quickly, and asked if they could make cookies, for Thaddy, when he got there, and Moriah pulled the ingredients out of the cupboard with a smile, happy to see his young charge so happy, nodding along to his request.

After cleaning up the extra cookie dough in the bowl, and licking the spoon clean, he bundled up and he made his way to sit on the front step, to wait for him, watching the bodies pass by with shining eyes, his excitement was palpable, he couldn’t wait, the cookies were cooling, he could show Thaddy his aquarium and all the things he’d gotten for Christmas.

Minutes turned to hours, and the sun slowly moved across the sky, but he sat there, smiling happily, watching as others walked passed, waiting and watching. He only went inside for a few minutes, when Moriah called him in for lunch, and to warm up, before returning to his post with a mug of hot chocolate.

The sky changed colors, and slowly, as the street before him started to thin out, his excitement started to crumble. The sun set, the lanterns on the Axis lighting on their own, and Moriah stands behind him silently, watching him sadly, as he looked up and down the street, looking for the one who had given his word to come see him at the end of the week. He’d sat out there all day, waiting and watching, and he felt his heart break, he knew now, anger gripping him lightly, that Thaddeus was not coming, it was going to break the boy’s heart.

He kneels slightly, reaching out to curl his fingers around the boy’s shoulder. “Zan, it’s time to come in.”

“Not yet, Mori, he’s coming, he said he was going to come, not yet, I wanna see him when he gets here, he’s going to come, I know he is, I know it.”

Moriah sighs softly, squeezing his shoulder. “Alright, a few more minutes.” His heart crumbles, the boy adores Thaddeus, this is going to break his heart. “But, then it’s time to come in.”

Zander nods, turning back to watch the empty street, Thaddy was just busy, he was still coming, he just had some stuff to do, is all. He was coming. He _was_. He’d be here any minute, he would be, he _would_. They’d have cookies and he’d tell him all about his week, how nice Moriah was, how much fun they’d had, how much he liked it here, he’d tell him everything, when he came.

The healer gives him five more minutes, before returning, and he squats, squeezing his shoulder again. “Zan, it’s time to come in now, it’s going to get colder as the night goes on, come inside.”

“But, he’s coming, I know he is.” Zander turns to look up at him and his heart aches at the tears that make his eyes glisten. “He’s coming, Mori, he’ll be here any minute, I know he will be, I _know_ he will.”

“Zan, I’m so sorry,” he shakes his head lightly. “I don’t think he’s coming.”

“ _No!_ NO! He’s coming! HE’S COMING! He said he would, Mori, he said he’d come! I have to wait for him! I have to! I wanna see him as soon as he comes! He’ll be here! He will! Thaddy never breaks his promises!”

“Zan, I gave you another couple minutes, it’s time to come in.” He squeezes his shoulder lightly. “It’s time to get ready for bed and I have to get ready for my shift in the Infirmary.” His eyes are sad as they look down at the crying boy. “I’m sorry, Zan, I really am, but he’s not coming.”

“No, he _is_! He _is,_ Mori! Why are you saying that!” Zander pushes himself to his feet and turns around to face him, anger mixing with the distress and sadness, and he stomps his boot on the snow-covered step. “Why are you saying that, Mori! He’s coming! He’ll be here any minute! He _will_!”

“He won’t, Zan, he won’t.” He shakes his head softly. “He’s not coming.”

“ _YES HE WILL!”_ Moriah stumbles back a step, in surprise, when the boy jumps forward and shoves him in the chest. “What do you know, you’re just a _stupid_ healer!”

He steels his heart, he knows this is only adding salt to the wound, but he won’t allow him to disrespect him like that, and he reaches out, catching him by the wrist, he tugs the boy forward. Zander yelps as he stumbles forward, as the healer tugs him inside, and closes the door behind him. Moriah tugs him over to the couch, sits on the edge, and he yelps when he’s tugged forward, over the healer’s lap.

“Mori, no! No! I’m sorry!” He pushes at his thigh when he feels him tug his trousers down slightly. “Mori, no! Please! I’m sorry!”

“When I tell you to do something, you will do it.” Zander shrieks when his hand smacks down on his left cheek, then his right, creating a pattern between the both of them, and he cries out, not only did Thaddy not come, but now he was getting spanked. He kicks his feet and pushes at the healer’s thigh, Moriah curls an arm around his waist to keep him in place and continues. “You will not throw a temper tantrum when something doesn’t go your way. I’m sorry he didn’t come, I am, my heart breaks for you, it does, but you will not disrespect me like that.”

It only lasts a few minutes, and when he’s done, he lifts the boy back up. He means to pull him in his arms, down into his lap, comfort him through his sore bottom and broken heart, but Zander pushes against him, turning, and darting down the hall, he sighs, looking down at his hands, when he hears the door slam.

He curses his friends name, Thaddeus had done this, he’d broken the boy’s heart, all that progress they made through the week reduced to nothing.

He stands from the couch, contemplating going after the boy, he decides he’ll check on him, just to be sure. He sighs softly as he draws nearer to the door, listening to the sobs through the closed door, and he reaches for the door handle, pushing the door open slowly.

Laying face down on the bed, Zander’s shoulders rise and fall with the force of his sobs, he’d been so excited, so happy, and now he was a broken soul, his heart torn from his chest, chewed up, and shoved back in.

Sighing softly, Moriah steps into his room, closing the door behind him, to keep the warmth in, and makes his way across to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he leans over, rubbing soothingly at the boy’s back. “I’m sorry, Zan, I’m so sorry.”

It’s faint, but he hears him. “He said, Mori! He said! He said he’d come! Why didn’t he come!”

“I don’t know Zan, I wish I did, but I don’t.” He looks down for a moment. “I’m so sorry, little one, so, so sorry.”

Zander pushes himself up, his face red and blotchy, slick with tears, and reaches out to him. “H—Hold me, M—Mori?”

He nods, reaching out for the little youngling, curling his fingers around his middle, he lifts him up and into his lap. Zander curls around him, burying himself in the healers shoulder, curling his fingers in the back of his tunic. He curls him in his arms, rubbing at his back soothingly at his back, he doesn’t say anything, he just holds him, apologizing wasn’t going to do anything, so he just holds him. Holds him until he cries himself to sleep, and then a bit longer, he’ll be late if he had to be, but he wasn’t letting him go just yet.

Moriah holds him for what feels like an hour, before he stands, pulling the boy up with him carefully, not wanting to wake him, and leans over, setting him down in his bed, giving him his octopus, and pulls the blankets up around him. Zander won’t wake until morning, and he can’t afford to miss anymore shifts, no matter how much he loath to leave him, especially right now. He leans over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, stokes the fire, and makes his leave. He’ll be back before the boy wakes up.

…

Zander doesn’t come out of bed the next morning, he brings breakfast to him, and urges him to eat as he hand feeds him, when he makes no moves to do so himself. He just lays in his bed, hugging his octopus to his chest, sleeping or staring at the wall, bouncing between the two. He tells Akriel he’s not going to be there that night, the Virtue requests his reason why, and when he tells him, he nods in agreement, it’s best not to leave the boy on his own at the moment, there’s no telling what a distraught depressed youngling might do.

He sits with him, between meals, reading him stories and rubbing his back, to keep him with him, reclining back against the pillows. He lays with him, the boy pressed into his chest, curled in his arms, as tears soak into his night shirt, he hadn’t changed out of his pajamas that day, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Moriah hums softly, scratching at the back of the boy’s head, as tenured healers do, having learned how the melody calmed the nerves and soothed the pain, physical or otherwise.

The boy finally makes some positive interaction the following day, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand, and looks up at him. “Mori….?”

“Yes, little Zan?” He looks down at him, and gives him a smile, brushing his nose with a finger. “Anything?”

“Mori….Will you….Will you give me some tickles?” Zander blinks up at him. “Please?”

Moriah smiles down at him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Little Zan, I would be more then happy to give you some tickles.” He rolls them over, the boy laying back against his bed, and him laying up over top of him. “Where do you want your tickles?”

Zander smiles slightly, a small smile, heaps of progress since that fateful day. “Anywhere.”

“Anywhere?”

The boy nods.

“Alright,” the healer tilts his head to the side, and his youngling giggles softly, shrieking when he dives forward, burying his face in the side of his neck. He shakes his head, rubbing his beard in, and Zander shrieks with laughter, kicking his feet under him, his fingers curling in the shoulders of his night shirt. Growling playfully, he nibbles on the sensitive skin, and Zander squeals softly, tugging on his shirt. He chuckles, pulling away from his neck, pressing their foreheads together, the boy giggling breathlessly. “I heard you were a bit ticklish, but this, this makes you adorable. You’re not just a _bit_ ticklish, are you?”

The youngling giggles lightly and shakes his head. “I’m a lot.”

“You’re a lot ticklish?” Zander nods again and he smiles down at him. “That makes this even better.”

He pushes himself down, the fingers move from the shoulders of his shirt as he does, and he lifts the boy’s own night shirt up slightly. “Let’s see what’s under here?” He pushes his head up under the boy’s shirt, and Zander squeals when he takes a breath, burying his face into his belly. He shakes his head, rubbing his beard in, as he lets go a massive raspberry, and the boy screams with laughter, kicking his feet again, his hands push lightly at the top of his head, but he’s unperturbed, and takes another deep breath. He blows a few raspberries into his belly, rubs his beard all over, nibbles at the small roll of baby fat, driving the boy crazy. He pulls his head out from under his night shirt and pulls it back down into place. “There’s a rather special spot I’ve been told about, I want to give that a try myself, do you mind?”

Zander giggles harder, shaking his head, clenching up when he reaches down between his legs, for that one spot, that one spot that destroys him. “Nohohohoho!”

“No, you don’t mind?” He digs his finger into that one special spot, and the boy screeches, arching up, lifting from the bed, waving his arms around frantically, before the drop back to the bed, fingers curling in his comforter.

“EEEIIEIAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHEEEIEIEIEIEIIEAIAIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEERE! NOHOHOHOHOHO! AHAHAHAHAHABABBAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! AAHAHAHHEEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA THAHAHAHAHAT’S BAHAHAHAHAHHAAD! AHAHAHHAHAHAABABAABBBAAAHAHAHAHHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEEASE NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

Moriah tilts his head, pulling his finger away, crawling back up to press their foreheads together. “Zan, can I ask you something?” The boy nods, giggling feverishly. “Zan, did you just call me _‘Abba’_?”

Zander swallows his giggles, curling his arms around the healers neck, and nods slightly. “Abba.”

“Oh, my little one!” He pulls him up, hugging him close, twisting them back over, the boy laying over him. “I’m always going to be your _‘abba’_ , no matter what.” He squeezes him gently. “Let’s go bake a cake.”

Zander giggles, rising slightly, resting his elbows on his chest. “But, it’s almost bedtime.”

“There’s no bedtime tonight, let’s go bake a cake, I want a cake, I want to celebrate, you called me _‘abba’_!” He kisses him on the nose. “We’re going to go bake a cake.”

“Yay! Cake!”


	211. A Free Man (Thaddeus and Zander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU of the last chapter, where in Zander does get to stay with Thaddeus

Zander feels his excitement at the prospect of his being released dwindle when he steps into the Warden’s office and sees another man sitting in one of the chairs across from him, they smile at him in greeting, he doesn’t smile back, turning instead to look at the man behind the desk. Thaddeus smiles at him, and he does smile back this time, sitting in the other chair when he gestures for him to do so, sitting gingerly, his hands resting in his lap, he tries to smile, he wants to be happy, but the other angel sitting there means his going away, and he doesn’t want to go, he wants to stay here with Thaddy, he doesn’t want to leave, he’s his papa, he doesn’t want to leave his papa.

“Zander, as you know, you’re being released today.” Thaddeus tilts his head slightly at the lack of reaction, expecting a bit more excitement, but continues on, gesturing to the one sitting next to him. “Zander this is Moriah.” He turns to look at the other man, he smiles again, and still, he doesn’t return it, he wishes he brought his octopus with him. “He’s going to be your new guardian.”

 _“No!”_ He finally speaks up, shaking his head fervently, looking away from the other to look at the Warden once more. “No, I wanna stay with you.”

“Zander,” the older angel sighs deeply. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, Thaddy, please, please don’t make me go, papa! I’ll be good! I won’t get into any trouble! I’ll be a good angel!”

“Zander, I’ve never thought you were anything less, you’re a very good angel.” Thaddeus stretches his right arm down the armrest of his chair. “It’s nothing to do with you, there’s still so much going on, still so much distrust, I’d hate for you to get hurt by someone deceitful, I couldn’t live with myself if that were to happen.” He gestures to Moriah with his right hand. “Moriah is really nice, he’s come to love you from what I’ve told him about you, he’ll read you as many stories as you want, he’d be more then happy to give you as many tickles as you want, I think you’ll really like him.”

“I don’t _wanna_ go with _him_!” The youngling scoots forward, feeling his eyes burning as unshed tears gather in them, making them shimmer in the light of the office. “I wanna stay with _you_! Please papa, please! Don’t make me go! I just want you! I want you, papa!”

Thaddeus sighs again, rubbing at his face when his left hand, rubbing at his forehead lightly. “Zander—”

“Please, papa, please! Please, I wanna stay with you!” A tear slips from his right eye, one, then another, he really wishes he brought his octopus with him, he’d left it in his cell, he hadn’t expected the possibility of him leaving, anywhere else but upstairs. “Please, papa, please, I wanna stay with you! I’ll be really good and I won’t ask for anything ever and I won’t get in the way, please papa, please don’t make me go!”

“Thaddeus,” Moriah speaks up when the youngling breathes out a small sob, covering his mouth with his hands, tears making his cheeks glisten. “You said there were more being discharged today, I would be just as happy to take one of them,” he glances at the distraught youngling next to him. “Perhaps you could reconsider taking him.”

“Alright,” he nods lightly, lowering his left hand, flexing his fingers at the distraught boy across from him. “Alright, you can stay with me, but, when I tell you to do something, there will be no arguments, you will simply do it, understand?”

Zander nods fervently, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand, jumping from his seat when the Warden gestures him forward with his hand, hopping around the Warden’s massive desk, Thaddeus turns in his chair for him to sit himself in his lap, and he does, leaning back against his right arm, curling into his chest, pressing his face into the side of his neck, the older angel’s beard rubbing against his forehead. “There, there, it’s alright, you can stay with me.” He raises his left hand, snapping his fingers to gain the attention of the guard outside the door, they turn to look in at his call for attention. “Go get his octopus, it’s in his cell.” They nod, darting off to retrieve what was sought after, and he turns his attention back to the distraught youngster in his lap, stroking through the curls on the back of his head. “It’s alright, Zan, you’re alright, you’ll come stay with me, we’ll have a good time together, dry your tears, it’s alright.”

The guard returns a minute or so later, leaning over his desk with the octopus in hand, he thanks them softly and the nod, turning to return to their post, and he looks back down to the distraught little angel, holding his octopus up for him. “Here, take Bubbles, give him a real tight hug.” Zander nods, holding his breath slightly to try and stay his sobs, hugging his stuffed octopus to his chest tightly. “Count his tentacles, how many are there?”

He rubs his fingers down all of them. “T—There’s eight.”

“You know what that means?” He looks up at the Warden when he presses a kiss to the side of his head, and shakes his head, he doesn’t know what that means. “That means you get a whole eight minutes of tickles when we’re done here, can you imagine it, those eight minutes, all those special little spots, oh, it’s going to be very fun.”

Zander giggles softly, it’s a watery giggle, but a giggle none the less. “Really?”

“Oh, most certainly, I’m going to get my fingers into all those special spots.” He shakes his head playfully. “Oh, I’m going to drive you crazy with all the tickles.”

The boy giggles again, pressing in closer. “Thanks, papa, I love you.”

“I love you too, you little octopus.” He reaches around him, signing his name on the bottom line in the boy’s file, and turns, opening a drawer on his desk, and drops it in, closing the drawer once more as he turns back around.

Moriah smiles at him. “You two are adorable together, thank you, for reconsidering, he clearly belongs with you.”

Thaddeus smiles at him softly, looking back down at the youth resting in his lap. “It’s all him, he’s the adorable one, I’m just here for the ride.”

“I can think of no one better for him to be with.”

The Warden chuckles softly, nodding his head, and pulls another file down in front of him, patting the youth’s back lightly. “Let me introduce you to another one.”

…

Zander squeals, arching his back again, lifting himself up once more, as those two fingers wiggle playfully into his _worst_ spot. Throwing his hips around, bouncing lightly, as he tries to dislodge those fingers, it’s only been two minutes, he’s got six more to go, and Thaddy is going to kill him.

He didn’t want it any other way.

“This is my _favorite_ spot, do you know why?” When he doesn’t get any sort of response, he digs his fingers in just a bit sharper, and the boy screeches, lifting from their bed again, clenching up tightly, wiggling his bottom around as those fingers wiggle sharply in the inner undercurve of his cheeks. “Do you know _why_?”

“EEIEIEIIEIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA THAHAHAHAHHAHAADDDYYYYY! NOHHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEEEREEEEIEIIEAIAIAIAIAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA! NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEEHERE! EEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHHEEEASE!”

“I’ll tell you why, because it’s the most tickly.”

“THAHAHAHHAHAAADDDYYYYY EIEIIEIEIEIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEEASE! IHIHIHHIIT’S THEHEHEHEHE WOOHOHOHOHORST! EIEIEIEIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! PLEHEHEHEHEEASE! EEIIEIEIEAIIAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEASE!”

“You know what’s the best about you being mine now?” The Warden pulls away from that spot, because he’s nice, and flops down over him, wiggling his fingers into his lower belly, Zander arches his back again and shrieks with laughter, batting at his hands. “I get to torture you as much as I like now, any time I want, you’re all mine.”

“Nohohoho rehehheegrets!”

“No regrets?” He circles his fingers around, a wiggly path of tickles, around his bare belly. “I’m glad.” He wiggles his fingers down to his sides. “Let me rub my beard around just a bit.”

“Nohohoho! Nohohot thahahahat! Nohohot thehehe beehehehheheard!”

“Oh, you’re getting the beard, I trimmed it the other day, just for you.” He drops his head down, rubbing his beard all over his belly, and the youth squeaks and shrieks, kicking his feet under him, squealing with laughter. “You like that, I know how much you love my beard.”

“Eeieiieiaiaaiaaiahhahahahahahhahaha I hahhahahahaate ihihhihihiiit! I hahahahate ihihihihit eieieiiaiiaiaaiaaahahahahahahahahhahaa! Nohhohohoho! Nohohohot thehehehe beheheheard! Nohohot thahahat!”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Yehehehhees! Yehehehhees! Pleheheheease! Nohoho mohohohore!”

Thaddeus chuckles, leaning up over the giggling breathless youngling, and smiles down at him. “Give me a kiss?” And puckers his lips up.

Zander giggles lightly, shooting up to smack their lips together, pecking a small kiss to his lips. “Aww, you know how to melt my heart.” He falls over to the side, resting next to him, and raises his arm. The youth giggles still, and turns over, pushing himself up to lay over the Warden’s chest, resting his arms at his sides, and rubs his cheek over his chest lightly. “I love you, papa.”

“I love you too, Octopus.” He presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m happy I decided to keep you.”

“Me too, papa, I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”

“You’ve got me, baby boy, you’ve got me.” He squeezes him lightly. “You’re stuck with me, little guy.”


	212. The Caretakers Caretaker (Semyaza and Jeremiah)

“Yaza?” The tall Grigori looks up at the sound of his name, waving to his brother at the fledglings request for his attention, and he squats, smiling at the youth lightly. “Yes, Anpiel?”

“Yaza, I think something’s wrong with Jeremiah.” The fledglings is very clearly distraught over the thought. “He missed class today.”

“He did, did he?” All the young ones were very taken with their soft-spoken instructor. “Should I go check in on him?”

“Oh, would you, Yaza?” The fledgling braces her hands on his knees as she leans forward. “Would you go check on him, I’m really scared, he _never_ misses class.”

“Of course, I can check on him, him missing class makes me worried too.” He rubs the fledglings back gently. “Give me a kiss?” He puckers his lips up, the fledgling giggles softly, leaning up on her toes, and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Aw, don’t you know how to melt a man’s heart.” She giggles again, bouncing back, when he stands. “I’ll go check on Jeremiah.”

She thanks him brightly, skipping off to join her friends outside, and he shakes his head, waving to his brother one last time, and turns his way back inside their Pantheon. Humming to himself, Semyaza sticks his hands in his pockets as he turns down the halls for the room he’s after, counting down the doors until he reaches his destination.

Knocking softly, he leans forward to listen for any call for entry, and frowns when he hears nothing, knocking again. It’s when he hears the soft tones of a small whine that he forgoes any semblance of manners and reaches for the door handle, pushing the door open, light from the hall floods into the dark room. There’s a mound on the bed, curled under the blankets, an arm thrown over his face, and he whines again, flicking his fingers, silently ordering him to close the door, to which he obliges.

He’s thankful that his little brother keeps his room as tidy as he does, he doesn’t have to worry about tripping over anything as he crosses his brother’s room, leaning over slightly, he flicks on the bedside lamp dimly, and sits on the edge of the bed, it dips under him. “Miah, your fledglings are quite worried about you.”

“Sshhh…..” His worry only grows when his brother whispers in response. “…Not so loud…..”

“Miah,” he whispers this time. “Do you have a migraine?”

The younger Choir angel was prone to them, they were much rarer now, but they still reared their ugly head once and a while. He frowns when his younger brother nods lightly, whining again, and Semyaza pets his curls lightly. “Let me go get you some medicine. I’ll be right back.”

Jeremiah points, and he follows his gesture, to the shelf above his desk, nodding to himself, he stands, the bed moves as he does. Crossing the room as quietly as he can, he searches the shelf, nodding when he finds a small blue vial, mentally noting to ask him about him raiding his stores at a later time. He takes the bottle, pulling the cap off, and returns to his side, gently pulling his arm away from his face. “Here, baby brother, drink this.” The Choir instructor sits up slightly, his brother’s hand holding the back of his head, and curls his lips around the edge of the bottle, gulping down the substance within, he lays back down, whining slightly as he does.

“Sshhh, baby brother, sshhh.” Semyaza leans over and sets the bottle on the bedside table and reaches over to rub at his brother’s head lightly, Jeremiah sighs and closes his eyes, comforted by the gentle touch. “It’ll kick in soon, then you’ll feel better.”

“Yaza…Stay….?”

“Of course, baby brother.” He pulls his hand back, leaning over to tug his boots off quickly, and slides in next to him, pulling him up under his arm, to rest his head on his chest. “I’ll stay with you.”

The Choir instructor curls his fingers lightly in the front of his tunic. “Thank….You….”

“Always, baby brother,” he rubs his curls down lightly and presses his cheek to the top of his head. “Someone has to take care of the carer.”


	213. Exploring New Discoveries (Semyaza and Jeremiah)

He screeches and squeals, pushing at his older brother’s belly, trying to push him off him, escape from his trap underneath him. His right wing flapping weakly under the restraint of his brothers top half, his arms holding it down to the bed, the fingers of his right hand fluttering playfully over a bald spot, and the other holding the feathers back, his face buried in the plumage, blowing raspberry after raspberry over the sensitive skin.

“EEEEEEEEIEIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AIEIEIEIEIAIAIAAIHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAAEEEEIEIEIIEIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAA YAHAHAHAHHAHAAAZZZAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! EEIEIEIEIEIEIEEEEEEEEAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA STOHOHOHOHOHOP NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOT MYYHYHYHYYHY WIHIHIHIHIING! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEERE! EEIEIEEEEEEAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHEAEEEEEEEEIEIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEEASE! EEIEIEIIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT! EEIEEIEIEIAIAIAAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT MYHYHYHHY WIHIHIHIHING!”

He brother chuckles, pulling away from his wing, somewhat, his fingers wiggle in where he had been blowing his raspberries, and he shrieks with laughter, kicking his legs wildly, smacking his hands to his brother’s belly. “But I have to, this wing has seen nothing but abuse, it needs a little love.”

“Nohohohoho! Nohhohohoho yohohhohou dohohohon’t! Eieieiieieieieaiaahahahahahahaahaha nohohohohohoo eieieieiieaiahahahahahahahaa! Stoohohohhohhohop! Pleheheheheeease! Ihihihit tiihihihihickles! Yahahahhaazzzaaahahahhahaha ihihihihit tihihihickles!”

“I know it does, you silly little song bird.” He itches a finger in playfully. “That’s why I’m doing it.” He moves his right hand from the bald spot, and digs it into the same spot, his younger brother shrieks and squeals, his fingers curling in his tunic. “Do you want more berries or more nibbles?”

“Nohohohoho! Eeieieieiieiaiiaiaaiaaahahhahahahahahaha! Neheheheeither! Yahahahahaazzaaahahahahahhaha neheeheheheither! Eieieieieieeeeaaahahhahahahaaa! Aaahahahhahahahhaheeeieieieiaiaaahahahhahhahahaahhaaa! Plehehehehheease!”

“You have to pick.” Semyaza chuckles softly, when he feels his brothers fingers claw into his belly, trying to push him away. “You have to pick, or I’ll do it for you.”

“Nohohohoho! Yahahahhaaazzzaaahahahahhahaa pleheheheease!”

“You have three seconds.”

“Yahahahazzaahahahhahaha!”

“Nibbles it is.”

“Nohohohohoo!”

The Grigori Captain leans over, hovering over a bald spot, and rushes down, burying his face in the bald skin, nibbling softly on the scarred flesh.

Jeremiah screams, smacking his hands against his brother’s belly again, trying to push him away in vain. “EEEIIEIAIAAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHEEHEHHEHEAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOSE! NOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAAT EIEIEIIEAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAAAAEEEIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHHA NOHHOOHOHOT NIHIHIHIHIBBLES! EEIEIEIIEAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAEAEEIEIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA YAHAHAHAHAZZZAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEEASE! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEEAEAEAEEEIEIIEIEIEIAIAAAHAHHAHHAHHHAAHA!”

Semyaza pulls away slightly. “I have to know, Miah, which is worse, berries or nibbles?”

The youth instructor wraps his arms around his older brothers back, the best he’s going to get in an attempt to wrapping his arms around his own belly, and tries to catch his breath, giggling breathlessly. “B—Beheherries. Dehehefinitly b—beheheherries.”

“Good to know.” His eyes widen when he hears him inhale deeply, fingers pull his feathers apart, and his brother buries his face into the smooth skin underneath, blowing out long and harsh. “EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHHOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHHAAGAIN! EIEIEIEIAIIAAIAAAHAHHAHAHHHAHAHHHAHHAHAHA YAHAHAHAHAZZAAHAHAHAHA! NOHHOHOHOHO! NOHHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOSE! NOHOHOHOT BEHEHEHEHERRIES! NOHOHOHOT NIHIHIHIHIBBLES! NOHOHOHOONE! NEHEHEHEITHER! EEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAAAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHANT TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES! IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES SOHOHOHO BAHAHHAHAD! YOHHOHOHOHOHOUR BEHEHHEHEHEHEEING MEHEHEHHEAN! YOHOHHOHOHOU BIHIHIHIG MEHEHEHHEHEEANY! EIEIEIEIEIIAIAIAIAAAAHHAAHHAHHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEASE! IHIHIHIHI’LL DOHOHOHOHO AHAHAHAANYTHING!”

“Anything?”

“YEEHEHEHEHHEHEHES EIEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA AHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAA! AHAHAHAHANYTHING!”

“Are you going to be a good boy and let me groom your wings?”

“YEHEHEHEHHEESS! YEEHEHEHEHEHHEES! AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAEIEIEIEIEIEIAIIAAIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA YEHEHEHHEHES!”

Semyaza smiles lightly, rolling off his baby brother’s wing, Jeremiah pulls it in close, rubbing his hand over the torture spot, trying to rub away the remaining tingles. “Good boy.”

“I hahahate yohhohohou.”

“Oh, but I love you, so, so dearly, baby brother.” He pushes himself up over the edge of his bed. “Mint and chamomile or lavender?”

“Lahahavender.”

“Alright, baby brother.”


	214. The Matter Of Weight (Zander & Moriah)

“Abba, look at you.” Moriah looks up from the book he’s reading, to meet the eyes of his charge, leaning against the wall beside him, raising his eyebrows at his tone, that particular tone mean’s trouble. “You’ve gotten a bit pudgy there.”

“I’ve _what_?”

“Have you been having too many cookies, haven’t you?”

He lowers his book slightly. “Zander.” He intones warningly, it’s all in good fun, he knows that. “Be mindful.”

“You’ve put on some weight, a bit portly, got a small pot belly going there, some might even say you’ve got yourself a dad bod.”

“I’ll show you _‘portly’.”_ Zander shrieks when he tosses his book aside and jumps up from the couch, the youngling spinning around to dart for the safety of his room, hearing the heavy foot falls of his guardian right on his heels. “Not so fast, you.” He shrieks again, arms curling around his waist, snatching him up off his feet. “We’ve got some things to take care of.”

“Abba! Abba, I was just playing! You’re not portly!”

“I’ll show you what happens when you make fun of someone’s weight.” Zander kicks out as he’s turned around, into his guardian’s room, their own rendition of a torture chamber, Moriah is just as bad as Thaddy, sometimes though, sometimes he thinks Mori is worse, he can be _really_ mean, but in a fun sort of way, he always has fun, he loves Mori, he loves him very much, and he knows Mori adores him, he tells him almost every day.

His eyes widen when his guardian sits on the edge of his bed, and he’s turned face down over his lap, thinking that perhaps he’s gone a bit too far with his teasing, and he pushes against his thigh, trying to push himself up. “No! No, abba! I’m sorry! Please! I won’t do it again!” He feels his throat tighten, the tall tale sign that someone’s about to start crying, when he feels that arm curl around his waist to keep him in place. “Please, abba! Please! I’ll never do it again! I’m sorry! I was just playing! I wasn’t trying to be mean! I’m sorry!” He stiffens when he feels a hand press to his left cheek, and inhales deeply, when it lifts away, clenching his eyes closed in preparation for the smack, at least he got to keep his trousers on, that was a plus at least.

Zander’s eyes fly open quickly, and he screeches brightly, floundering over his guardians lap, cackling madly, when a finger wiggles sharply in his worst spot, in the inner undercurve of his left cheek. He winds his arms around, pushing at his guardian’s thigh again, kicking his feet wildly. “EEIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHHAABBAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAA! NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEERREEEE! EEIIEIEIAIAAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHHAAHAHA NOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAT SPOHOHOHOHOT! EIEIEIEAIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHHAAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEEASE! EIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAIAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA IHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOORRYYY! EIEIEIAIAIIAAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! NOHOHOHOT THAHAHHAAHAHAT SPOHOHHOOHOT!”

“I felt you stiffen, little Zan, you thought I was going to take you to task.” He switches over to the right side, equally as bad as the left, and the boy clenches up for a moment, before falling limp. “I knew you were just playing; I’ve never been harsh, I know what’s playing and what’s not.”

“YOHOHOHOU TRIHIHIHIHICKED MEHEHEHEHEEIEIIEIEIAIAIAAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEEHEHEHERE! NOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHHAT SPOHOHOHOHOT! AAHAHHAHAHAHANYWHERE BUHUHUHUHUT THAHAHAHHAHAT SPOHOHOHOT!”

“ _This_ is your punishment, calling my portly, you’ve put on a bit of weight yourself, little one.” Moriah curls his fingers in the boy’s inner thigh, digging in and kneading, the boy over his lap pushes against him as much as he can, shrieking with laughter. “I always thought a bit of weight was a good sign, when you came to me, you were as thin as a stick, you needed some meat on those bones.”

Zanders rocks from side to side, cackling brightly, and manages to roll himself over and off his guardians lap, and giggles, he tries to crawl away.

He shrieks when fingers curl around his ankles, and he’s lifted from the floor, dangling from his guardians grasp, Moriah’s so tall, or, he’s just really small, it’s probably a bit of both. “Where do you think you’re going?” He giggles brightly as he’s swung gently, back and forth, from his ankles. “We’re not nearly done, here, not just yet.”

“Ahahahhaabbaaahahahhahaha!”

“I’m _punishing_ you, mister.” The healer lifts him up, spinning them around, and lifts up to lay on the end of his bed. His fingers curl around the tops of his bare feet. “Did you wash these feet when you took your bath?” Zander giggles and nods, flexing his toes lightly, and Moriah nods, pressing his bare soles to his beard, shaking his head slowly, rubbing his beard all over, and the youth shrieks, tugging at his feet. “Let me have a go at these feet.”

“Eeeieieieiiiaiaiiaaahahahaaahahahahhahaa Ahahahahahaabbbaahahahahaha nohohohohoho! Nohohohot thahahat! Nohohohot thehehe beheheheard! Aaahahahahahahahahhaa ahhahahahahahahhah nohohohohhhohoho! Mehehehehercy! Plehehehehease! Mehehehercy!”

“You get no mercy today, little sir, absolutely none.” He lets go of his feet and falls forward, collapsing over the boy, and Zander shrieks with laughter, bracing his hands against his belly, trying to push him away.

“Abba! Gehehet ohohoff! Yohohour heavy!”

“You like my portliness, right?”

“I love it, Abba!” The youth curls his arms around the healers middle. “I love you just the way you are!” He giggles lightly. “You make a good napping buddy!”

“Darn right, I do.”


	215. Morning Wake Up Call (Raphael & Iaoth)

They notice the distinct lack of the third born that morning at breakfast, and Michael turns his attention to the taller miracle worker sitting in his usual seat, directly to the right of the third born Archangel’s seat, a spoon of oats hovering near his open mouth when he finally sees the eyes of the first born on him. “Iao, go wake Raphael.”

He drops his spoon and jumps up. “Sir, yes sir!” Leaning over, he lifts a bucket from the floor, and they all watch him disappear down the hall.

Lucifer rubs at his chin in confusion. “Where’d he get the bucket?”

“Some things are better left unknown.”

…

He pushes the door to the third born’s room open and slips inside, closing the door behind him silently, creeping across the floor, he climbs up to stand at the foot of the archangel’s bed, staring down at him, a cheeky smile forming over his features.

The Archangel looks so peaceful, laying back against his pillow, his right arm thrown over his face, he _hates_ to have to be the one to wake him from such a peaceful slumber.

He’s kidding.

He doesn’t.

Gripping the bucket tightly, he lifts it slightly, and throws it forward. Water cascades from the top, spilling over the Archangel, and the Healer awakens with a startled shout, throwing himself forward, dripping water down his front. Iaoth cackles, absolutely cackles, dropping the bucket to the side to curl his arms around his stomach as he bends slightly.

Raphael wipes a hand down his face, clearing the water from his eyes, and glares up at the youth. He doesn’t know _why_ he’s so fond of this one. “You absolute _brat.”_ He curls his fingers around his ankles and tugs his feet out from under him, Iaoth shrieks as he falls, bouncing back on the bottom of the bed, kicking his feet as he’s tugged closer to the vengeful Archangel, and shrieks again, boisterous laughter exploding from him, when skillful fingers dig into the underside of his thighs, kicking out again to try and dislodge them. “You thought to _soak_ me?”

“Eeeieieieieieiieaiiaaiaahaahahahahahaahaa Mihihihhihicchaahahahahhaa sahahahahhaid tohohoho wahahahahaake yohhohohoou uhuhhuhuup! Eieieiiiiaahahahahahahahaha stohhohohhoohoop! Nohohot thehehehere!”

He throws his head back, squealing brightly, when those skilled fingers find a particularly sensitive spot. “Right _here?_ ”

The Archangel pulls away after another moment, and foolishly, Iaoth thinks he’d being let go, until fingers curl around his ankle once more. He squeaks, shrieking with laughter when the Healer strokes a finger down the center of his foot torturously, it was truly amazing he could still feel as much as he did on his feet, given how thick the scars were. “I’d thought we’d learned after the last time. Evidently, I was wrong.” Iaoth tugs at his foot when he feels that finger wiggle softly under his toes, and shrieks through his laughter, scrunching his toes up as much as he can. “No matter, it’s a lesson I’m happy to continue teaching you.”

“Yohohohou bihihihig gruhuhuhump!”

“I’m a ‘ _grump_ ’, huh?” He’s tugged closer, and he helps as he is, his legs trapped under the Healer’s arms, as warm fingers snake up under the bottom hem of his night shirt and dig into his sides, skittering up and down. “How’s _this_ for a grump?”

Iaoth shrieks, arching his back slightly, and pushes desperately at the large hands under his shirt. “Stohohohop! Stohhohohop! Nohohot aahahahhaa gruhuhuhump! Nohohot ahahhahaa gruhuhump! Aahahahhahahaha ahahahhahahhaha mehehehhercy! Mehehehheercy!”

“I don’t know, should I have mercy on you, you _did_ soak me and my bed, I think that calls for some sort of _punishment_.”

He shakes his head, kicking his feet slightly, when those warm fingers travel up from his sides to claw into his belly. “I’m sohohohorry! I’m sohhohohorry! Nehehehever ahahhaagain! Aahahahhahahaha pleheheheease aahahahahahhahahaha mehehehhercy! Hahahahave mehehehercy!”

“Alright, I’ll have mercy on you,” the young miracle worker squeals softly when those torturous skilled fingers return to his thighs. “In another three minutes.”


	216. Early Mornings (Nisroc & Sablo)

He wakes early, he always has, and his eyes flutter open at the same time they do every morning. Five o’clock sharp, the sun hasn’t risen yet, the early morning was still cool, the perfect time for a few laps around the training field before training began for the day.

He looks down when he feels something move against him, smiling at the sight of him, his little bear, curled up in his side, sleeping blissfully away, undisturbed by the early morning around them. He tries to extract himself gently, but the fingers curled in his tunic hold on tighter, the youth snuffling softly. “Nis…mmmm…..no, papa….not yet…”

Nisroc smiles down at him, who is he to deny that request, and he settles back down on his side, curling the youth in his arms, Sablo sniffles softly, and cuddles closer. “Okay, baby bear, we can sleep in today.”

“Thanks…papa….”

“Only for you, baby bear,” he presses a kiss to his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

…

“Hey, is Nis in there, he’s late!” Abraxos waves a hand at the younger Power, shushing him softy, standing in the doorway of their oldest brother’s room. Puriel makes a face but jogs to his side to see for himself, and he smiles, cooing softly. “Now isn’t that adorable, big bear and baby bear finally back together again.”

Nisroc was fast asleep on his side, deeply asleep, Sablo pressed deep in his chest, fingers curled in his night shift, wrapped in the oldest Power’s arms.

Abraxos shakes his head, and reaches out to pull the door closed softly, careful not to make too much noise, he doesn’t want to wake them. “Come on, you, you’re not getting out of training.” And drags the medic away. “Aw, papa, come on, I wanted to join!”

“I don’t think so.”


	217. Lessons Learned (Zander & Moriah)

Zander giggles to himself, sitting on his guardians waist, fluttering his fingers over the older angel’s belly, listening to him shriek softly with laughter made him giggle so hard, that he almost fell off of him. Moriah bats at his hands, trying to grab them, but he evades them quickly, finding new spots to torture. “This is what you get!” He wiggles his fingers down to his lower belly, laughing himself when he makes his guardian snort softly, Moriah throwing his head back. “You big mean tickle monster!”

“Lihihihittle Zahahahan! Aahahahahhahahaha! Yohhohohhour gohohohoing tohhohohoho gehehehet ihihihihit!”

“You don’t scare me!” He wiggles his finger under the older angel’s belly button. “You’re all mine! I’m in charge now!”

“Ohohohoho reheheally?”

The youngling’s eyes widen when fingers curl around his, shrieking softly as he tumbles over in his guardian’s lap, as Moriah sits up, rubbing at his belly to rub away the remaining tingles. Zander giggles up at him freely, curling his arms around himself, he knows he’s in for it now, he knows he is, but making Moriah laugh is always worth it, he liked it when Moriah laughed, it made him feel warm inside.

He takes a moment to get his residual giggles under control, but his eyes shine, as they stare down into his. “Nohow, you’re in trohouble.”

“Abba! Abba, I just wanted to hear you laugh!”

“Well, you most certainly did, you fearless little youngling.” Zander giggles harder when his guardian raises his arms above his head, he feels his warm grace curl around him, to keep him in place, to keep him from moving, to keep his arms above his head. “Now, it’s my turn.” He’s stuck, he’s between a rock and a hard place, and he shakes his head as his night shift is lifted up over his head, covering his face, keeping him from seeing the attack before it comes. “Now, look at this chubby little belly.” He shrieks and giggles hard when fingers wiggle into his belly. “It’s just _asking_ me to give it tickles.”

“Ahahahhaabbaaahahhahahahhaa! I’m sohohohorry! Mehehehercy! Mehehehercy!”

Those fingers wiggle around, they don’t stay stationary, they wiggle in a big circle around his belly, then they wiggle over to the left side, and slowly wiggle their way over to the right, and he cackles brightly, kicking his legs behind the larger angel, if he could move, he’d be squirming and rocking, but alas, he can’t, he’s completely immobile from the waist up. “You had no mercy on my belly, why should I have mercy on yours?” Zander chokes on his cackles, pushing against the arm of the couch with his feet, Moriah laughs softly. “You keep doing that and I’ll make it so you can’t move at all, and then have a go at those two little feet, before coming right back to this adorable little tummy.”

“Aahahahhahahhahahaha eieieiieaiaiaiiaaaahhahahahahhahaha I ahahahhahahasked nihhihihihicely! Pleheheheheease! Ahahahhahahabbaahahahahhahaha! Mehehhehehercy aahahahahhahahaha ahahahahhahahahaha! Eeiieieieiiaiaiaiahaaaaahahahahhahaahhaha!”

“Let me think about it,” he pulls his hands away, letting the boy giggle feverishly, his head turning this way and that, trying to get out from under his night shirt. “Nope, I’m not feeling merciful today.” He claws his fingers in, and the boy squeals, kicking his feet again. “Have some claws.”

“Nohohohoho! Nohhoohohot thahahahhaat! Nohohoot thehehehe clahahahhaws! Nohohot thohohose! Eeieieiaiaiahaaahahahahhahahaa Ahahahahhaaabbbaahahhahahaa eieiieaaaiaahhahahahhhaahahaahha! Nohohohot thehehehe clahahahhaws! Ahahahahahahehheaheeeeeieiieieaiaiaahaahaahahahhahaha!”

“Oh, yes, the claws.” Moriah chuckles softly, the boy absolutely overcome with laughter, cackling loud and freely, vibrating his fingers and wiggling them in deep. “The claws want a piece of you.”

“Aahahahahahahhahahahaa aeaeeeieieiieieaiaiaaahahhahahahahahahahaa thohohohose ahahahahare thehehehe wohohohorst! Ahahahahhaabbaahahahahahaha! Thehehehheey tihihihickle! Thehehehhe clahahahahahhaaws tihihihihicckle!”

“They do, do they?” He claws his fingers around, torturing every inch of the belly he can get to, smiling down at him softly. “Do they tickle bad?”

“Yehehehhehehes! Bahahahahahhaad! Baahahahahhad! EIeieiieiaiaiaaaahahaahahahahaha! Ahahahahabbaahahahahahahhaa! I cahahahahan’t tahahhaake ihihihihit! Aahahahahahhahaa Ahahahahabbabaahaahaahhahaa I’m sohohohohorry! Aahahahahhahahahheheaaeeeieieieiieiaiaahahahahahahhaha!”

“Are you ever going to tickle my belly again?”

Zander shakes his head fervently from under his shirt. “Nohohhoho ahahahahhahhahaehheheeeieieiieieiaiaiaahahahahhahahaha nehehehehheever! Nehehehehever ahahahhaagain! Ahahahahahhahahaha aahahahahahahhahaa nehehehehever!”

“Okay, I think I’ll have some mercy on you, you’re still learning.” He wiggles a finger in his belly button and the boy shrieks and squeals. “But, if ever do it again, I won’t have _any_ mercy on you.”

The boy nods rapidly, and he chuckles, releasing him from his hold as he pulls his top back down. He brushes his fingers through his curls as the youth giggles breathlessly and curls his arms around his tummy, curling up on his side, over top of his belly. “Do you want me to rub your tummy?”

Zander giggles and looks up at him. “Tihihickle ahahhaattack?”

“No, no tickle attack, I promise, just a tummy rub.” He smiles when the boy nods, uncurling, laying flat over him, and he reaches up with his right hand, rubbing at his tummy gently. “See, just a tummy rub.”

“Mmm….” The youth rests back against him, closing his eyes softly, humming in delight. “I like tummy rubs.”

“I know you do.” He kisses the top of his head. “I love giving you tummy rubs.”


	218. Dealing With The Bully (Raphael, Arlo, Oren, & Tagas)

“Sir,” the youngling peeks through the crack in the doorway, and the Archangel looks up from the papers he had been working on for Nisroc, waving him in mutely. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, thank you, Arlo.” Raphael turns his chair around and stands, crossing out from behind his desk, reaching for his staff resting against the edge. “Come, there is something we have to tend to.” He crosses his office, pulling the door open, the young healer takes a step back, and he gestures him down the hall. They walk side by side, in silence, he can feel the nerves rolling off the boy, good, he muses to himself, he should be nervous. Other’s turn to look at them as they make their way down the main aisle, and they turn back to their duties when he sends them a sharp glance, there is no need for staring. “Come, keep up.” Arlo puts a bit of a pace in his step, jogging forward to keep up with the Archangel’s long strides, speed walking to keep himself at his side.

They take the steps down one by one, in the same silence, and step off into the Axis, it’s not nearly as busy as it usually is, not at this time on a Saturday evening. The street lamps flicker around them, but the sun is still setting, there’s still enough light around them to see just fine.

He turns him to the path that leads to the Garden, Arlo follows dutifully, he smiles at Joshua as they pass him, trimming a rose bush, his eyes flit down to his hands, to ensure he’s wearing his gloves, and nods in approval when he sees that he is. He leads the youngling through a thicket of trees, to a clearing just a ways away, and over to an upturned tree trunk. Arlo looks down at the trunk, then up at him, not understanding what they were doing there.

Raphael leans on his staff. “I’ve tried to be gently, I’ve tried to be kind, and nothing seems to get through to you to change your behavior. I do not tolerate bullying in my flock, no matter the reason or circumstance, had it not been for your skill as a healer, I would have banished you.” He sighs softly. “But, alas, I am not one to waste true potential, so perhaps a harsher approach will get through to you.”

The young healer licks his lips nervously. “W—What?”

“You are going to bare yourself and lay over the edge of that trunk.”

Arlo takes a step back. “I don’t….I don’t think so.”

He snorts softly. “I don’t believe I was asking you. You will do so willingly, or I can hold you there with my grace, but you _will_ be going over the trunk bared.”

The youth shakes his head again. “No.”

“Alright,” the Archangel reaches out, curling his fingers in the back of his collar, dragging him forward. “I can see we are not going to do this the easy way.” Arlo struggles against him, but finds he’s no match for the Healer’s strength, and he finds himself turned over the trunk moments later. He tries to push himself up, but he finds himself stuck, it’s like his middle has been fastened to the trunk, he strains himself, huffing heavily, but the hold doesn’t give, the Healer had made true on his threat, he was holding him down with his grace.

He squirms, his boots shuffling in the dirt underneath him, when he feels fingers curl in the waist band of his trousers and pull them down. Cool air meets his bare cheeks, and he glows red in the face, blushing deeply, thankful that no one else is there to witness this position.

“Maybe this will get through that thick head of yours.”

There’s no warning, silence, and then it strikes, the Healer’s staff smacking over his bare bottom, and he shrieks, his legs dropping out from under him. He tries to push himself up, or reach back to cover his rear with his hands, but he can’t he’s stuck, stretched over the overturned tree trunk, his rear raised in the air, and the Healer’s staff whistling through the air, before it strikes again. It doesn’t take long to reduce him to a sobbing mess, kicking his feet out, straining against the Healer’s grace keeping him in place. Minutes pass, a good time passes, and the strikes don’t stop, not until he’s laying limp over the tree trunk, his legs spread out behind him, his face pressed to the bark, as he heaved with sobs, and that’s when the strikes stop raining down.

Fingers curl around the back of his trousers and tug them back up, and he’s able to move again, as he’s lifted up by the back of his trousers, to stand on his feet.

A dark hand curls under his chin and turns his head up, meeting the soft emerald eyes of his new Archangel. “If I ever hear of you bullying another soul in my flock, we will come right back here, and repeat this episode all over again, do you understand?” Arlo nods, wheezing from his sobs, reaching back to rub at his burning bottom. “Good, can I hug you?” He nods again, falling forward when he’s tugged into an embrace, clutching at the Archangel’s tunic, burying his face into his chest. Arms curl around him, and a chin rests on top of his head. “I know you’re not a bad soul, Arlo, I see just how much you care for your patients. I don’t believe that you are mean with the purpose of being mean, I can’t tell you why I think you are, but I intend to find out. We’re going to be spending quite a bit of time together.”

He nods silently, Arlo figures he must have fallen asleep wrapped in the Archangel’s arms, because when he opens his eyes, he’s tucked into his bed.

…

Raphael hums to himself, reading through the chart in his hands, his legs propped up on the bed next to him, ankles crossed in leisure, unperturbed by the tugging on his pant leg.

“Raph?”

“Hmm?” He looks up at the call of his name, meeting Oren’s gaze, the Virtue smiles down at him as he turns his attention to what’s beside him. “Are you torturing him, you cruel fiend?”

The Archangel smiles, turning his attention to the boy squirming on the bed, held safely in place, there’s no chance of him falling off in his struggles. Arlo shrieks, arching his back, pressing his chin to his chest, before falling back and throwing his head back, cackling brightly, kicking his legs as he rubs desperately at his belly.

“I didn’t think he could make such noises, he’s always so angry.”

“Oh, it took some searching into, but I managed it.” He hums again, twitching his fingers slightly, and the boy squeals softly, curling his arms around himself, rocking from side to side. “His belly and armpits seem to be quite sensitive.”

“You’re cruel sir,” Oren chuckles softly, shaking his head lightly, stepping back when his Archangel climbs to his feet, leaving the boy to his poor torture, turning to face his Virtue. “What did he do to incite this torment?”

“He mouthed off to me.”

The Captain tilts his head slightly. “I mouth off to you all the time.”

“Oh, I _know_ you do.” A hand slams into his chest, forcing him back, and he’s pushed down into the bed next to the boy. “I’ve been bidding my time.”

“No!” His protests fall into cackling laughter when he feels grace swirl over his lower belly and feet, and he’s quickly reduced to the same mess to boy is next to him. “Rahahhahaaph! Nohohohoho!”

“Your time has come.” He calls over his shoulder as he walks away, most probably to check in on his boys, and Oren wants to call back, to shout something unsavory, but his Archangel seemingly appears to be all knowing, because he squeals softly a moment after the words come to his mind, he’d probably projected them, dammit, as tingly grace weaves between his toes. He can’t stand his feet under such an assault, going after his toes is just cruel, and he projects as such to his Archangel.

He hears his deep chuckle through the natural chatter and noise of the Infirmary, and the grace weaving between his toes focuses on two, his big toe and his baby toe, and he throws his head back, cackling brightly, unable to focus on anything but the tingly grace torturing his toes.

Raphael shakes his head as he makes his way to the back end of the Infirmary, to check in on his elders and their new trainee, tucking the charts into his chest as he comes upon them, the poor boy squirming on a bed, kicking his legs and curling his arms around himself as much as he can, his face a bright red, his hair a mess, he cackles and squeals softly, arching his back and falling back, begging for mercy from those around him.

He chuckles softly, look to the ones working around him. “Which on of you is reducing my boy to such a mess?” Hadiel and Geburatiel raise their hands slightly. “Good work, try for his thighs and neck, if you want the best results.”

Tagas squeals brightly, drumming his heels in the bed, throwing his head back to cackle freely. “Trahahahhahaaaitor! Trahahahaitor!”

The Archangel chuckles again, leaning over to ruffle the boy’s curls lightly. “It’s time you learned that to be true.” He straightens, winking at his healers, and turns. “Where is Iaoth, he could do with some laughter, it’s the best medicine, after all.”


	219. Quality Time With Papa (Puriel & Donavon)

The boy giggles up at him, watching him settle himself down, after having wrestled him out of his tunic. It’s been a long time coming, he’d been rather busy with everything going on, they hadn’t had any quality time together in weeks, and now was the time he was making up for that.

“Pahahahappaahaahhaa nohohoho!”

“The tickle monster’s missed his little friend.”

“Puhuhuuriihihihi nohohoohhohoho!”

The medic smiles down at his little charge. “Ah, Avon, but it’s been so long.” Donavon giggled up at him, his guardian was a mean tickle monster jerk, but he wouldn’t have him any other way. “The tickle monster want’s to have his way with you.” He looks down at his belly. “Now, where did we leave off last time?” Donavon shakes his head, smiling a wide smile, eyes wide as he stares up at the Power that takes enjoyment in torturing him. “Oh, I remember, berries, we were sharing some berries.”

He takes a deep breath, puffin his cheeks up, and Donavon shrieks at what’s about to come, he knows what happens when he does that, shaking his head from side to side, bracing his hands against the Power’s head, trying to hold him off as much as he can, but he’s not match for the might Power’s strength. “No! Nohohoho! No, no, no, no! No berries! Not those! Not berries! Please, Nohoho! Stay away! Stay away, Puri!” He sucks in his belly, hard to do with the giggles collecting within, as it shakes as the giggles start to break free. He squeals softly, bouncing lightly when the Power easily overwhelms his attempts to keep him away from his belly, his head slowly lowering, lips puckered playfully, and his giggling picks up in quantity. “No! NO! NO, PURI! Not those! Not those! Not berries! Stay away! Stay away, Puri! Not berries! No berries! NO!”

The Power wiggles his fingers into his sides and his hands shoot down to them, leaving him open for the Power to surge down and bury his face into his belly, over his belly button, Donavon shrieks as he sits there, tensing in anticipation, he bites his lip, he knows what’s about to come, he knows how bad its going to be, berries are the worst, no, no, nibbles are the worst, but berries are a very close second.

He blows a soft stream of air over his belly button and he squeals softly. “Eeieieiaiiaaiaahahahhahahha!” Then he pauses, the laughter dying into rapid wild giggles, a small precursor for what’s about to come, and then he lets the berry go, full force, a vicious raspberry against his belly button, and this time, he throws his head back and squeals loud and bright.

“IEIEIEIEIAIAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA!” Pushing as much as he can against the medic’s head, trying as hard as he might to push him off, especially when he takes another big breath, berries over his belly button are the worst, almost as bad as nibbles on his small roll of baby fat underneath, both tickle like nothing else. “NOOOOEEEEIEIAAIAIAIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAA! NOT THE BUTTON! NOHOHOT THEHEEHEERE! PLEASE! PLEHEHEHEHEEASE!”

“Oh, this cute little button is going to get all the berries, it’s so cute, I missed this little button, I can’t _not_ give it berries.” Puriel takes another big breath and presses his lips over his belly button, blowing out slowly, it drives the youngling crazy. He drills his heels into the bed under him, shaking his head frantically, pushing against the Power’s head before he can really give him the berry. “Aahahahahaha no! Nohohoho! NO! Not the button! NOT THE BUTTON! Get away from there! Get away! Gehehet ahahahaway! Ahahahahahhahahahahaha! Gehehet aahahaway! No! NO! Not there! Plehehehease!” The he blows harder, blowing a vicious berry in, and he squeals, curling his fingers in the Power’s hair, still pushing at his head desperately. “EIEIIEIEIIIEIEIEIIAAIAIAAHAHAAHAHHAHAHHAHA! PLEASE! PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE!”

“This is my little giggle button, how I’ve missed my little giggle button, on my favorite little belly, I’m going to give it as many berries as I want.” He looks up at his little charge, giggling down at him, fingers still curled in his hair. “I’m going to tickle torture you until you’re just a pile of goo, and then we’ll cuddle up and take a nap, because I know you’ll be sleepy. But first, first you get a tickly tickle torture, the most tickly tickle torture of your life, we’ve got so much opportune tickle time to make up for and I plan on getting every tickle in that I can. It’s just you and me, and all the tickles and berries I can give this little belly right here.” He looks back down at his belly. “Don’t you worry, I’ll give you breaks, I’m not a mean cruel tickle monster.” Chuckling lightly, he pokes a finger into his little giggle button, Donavon laughs bright, squirming side to side as the finger wiggles in his belly button, also known as his giggle button, but only to Puri. “Let’s give this little giggle button a few more berries.” He pulls his finger back and takes a deep breath.

Donavon curls his fingers in his hair even more, laughing like a mad man, shaking his head frantically. “Not there! NOT THERE! NO! No, no, no! Not the button, not there, Puri, not there, please!” His head slowly starts to lower and he shrieks, desperately trying to push his head away, drilling his heels into the bed under him in anticipation. “PLEASE! Please, Puri, please! Mercy! Not there! It tickles! It tickles really bad! Please!” He hovers over his belly button, blowing his mouthful of air out over his belly button, it’s not a berry, that’s just him teasing him, but he still squeals, kicking his feet against the bed, arching his back under him. Fingers curls around his sides, keeping him from squirming too much, and he takes another deep breath as he rushes down, burying his face into his belly, right over his belly button, and blows a monstrous berry over it. “EIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE! P—PLEEHEEHEHHEEASE!” He takes another breath and blows another berry, without pulling away, and the young angel squeals again, shaking his head from side to side, pushing with all his might against his head. “EIEIEIEIIAIAEIAAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

The Power tilts his head slightly, rubbing his nose over the youth’s belly button, and he shrieks with laughter, sucking in his belly as best as he can, and the Power chuckles at it. “Let’s make this more interesting, every time you suck in your belly, you get a berry over your adorable little giggle button.” He peers up at him over his belly. “Do you need me to show you what will happen?”

“No! No! I understand! I get it, Puri, I get it! You don’t need to show me!”

“I feel like I should.”

“No! NO! GET AWAY! NOHOHO! EEIEIIEIEIAEIAIAAIAAAHAHAHHHAHHAHAHAAHA!”

“Do I need to show you again?”

Donavon shakes his head feverishly, breathing deeply, his chest heaving for a breath, and thus comes his first break. Puriel rests on his elbows, smiling down at him, reaching forward to brush his curls back. “Look at you, you’re a mess.” Despite his precarious predicament, he leans into the gently stroking fingers running through his curls, sighing softly in content, he likes having his curls played with, it’s soothing, something his guardian knows all to well. “You adorable, and you’re all mine, I love you, Avon.”

“I love you too, papa.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been neglecting you.”

Donavon smiles at him. “It’s okay, papa, I know you’ve been really busy.”

“Thank you, for your understanding, but it’s not okay.” He scratches lightly at the boy’s scalp. “When I took you in, I knew what I was doing, it’s not fair to you for me to forget you for even a moment.” He smiles at the boy. “You mean a lot to me, Avon, don’t ever doubt how much I love you.” He pokes his nose lightly, pulling his arm back, crossing his hands over his lower belly, he rests his chin over top of his hands. “Now, back to our tickly tickle torture session, that’s been enough of a break. Remember, you suck in that belly, you get a giggle button berry. He smiles at him, that smiles means he’s going to be squealing soon, and he giggles anticipatory giggles at the sight of it. “Do you need me to remind you about the giggle button berries?”

Donavon shakes his head quickly, giggling frantically, shrieking when his head dips towards his belly. "No! No! I know! I know about the button berries! No! No! Get away! Get away!" The Power smirks up at him. "I think I need to show you." Donavon shrieks when his head dips again, trying to wiggle to the side away from him, but a finger wiggles in his side and he hops back into prime position. "NO! No! Stay away! Leave it alone! NO!" His fingers curl back in the Powers hair when he takes a deep breath, making a show of it, puffing his cheeks back up, looking down at his belly as he slowly lowers his head. Donavon shrieks when he dips down suddenly, sucking his belly in desperately, the medic chuckles softly. "Now, that's two button berries." He retakes his breath, not inhibited by the fingers curled in his hair or the hands pushing at his head. "NO! NO! No, no, no! GET AWAAAIEIIEEIIEIAIAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!" The young angel squeals brightly when he finally presses his face to his belly and blows his vicious berry over his belly button, bright laughter filling the empty space around them in the medic's room, he calls out for someone to save him, calling for help, but the door remains closed. "EEEEEEAAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!" He arches his back into it when another berry is blow in his button, sending vibrating tingles over his belly, as he cackles loudly and brightly, pushing against his head as hard as he can.

He looks back up at him. "Do you need me to show you again?"

"No! NO! I get it! I UNDERSTAND! NO! NO MORE! EEEEIEIIAHAHAHAHAHA! STOOAHAHAHAOHOHOHOP! NO MORE! NO MORE BUTTON BERRIES!"

"No more, I like the button berries," he presses a kiss over his giggle button and the young angel shrieks and jolts. "They get the best reaction. Anything with your giggle button gets the best reaction, that's why I call it your giggle button." He circles his finger around his belly button, slowly, the soft touches send tingles through him. "But, okay, I'll leave the button berries for now, we'll come back to them, I love them too much not to. There's other ways for me to torture you, I'm very skilled at what I do, I was taught by the best, your tummy is still going to get a tickly tickle torture." He dips his finger into his belly button and wiggles it around, Donavon shrieks and squeals, bucking his hips and arching his back, drilling his heels in the bed he lays trapped on. "I can always just push my giggle button instead. Push and Push and Push. On and off, again and again and again." He stops his wiggling finger and the younger angel's boisterous laughter dies down into boisterous giggles. "Off." He waits a moment, building up the anticipatory giggles in his belly, and then he wiggles his finger again and the little angel shrieks again, giggles picking up into boisterous laughter again. "On." Donavon squirms hard, side to side, arching his back, as he tries to get the finger out of his belly button, cackling all the while, but the finger stays, wiggling in deeply and viciously, driving the young angel crazy. "Oh, I love my giggle button."

He moves down his belly, wiggling his forefingers into his lower belly, and the young angel shrieks at the sudden change, squirming again, reaching down with his hands to try and block his access to his belly, it doesn't work, it just gains him more fingers, and he shrieks again, arching his back at the tickly sensation, those fingers spread to the sides of his belly, wiggling fast and vicious, and he screams with laughter, bouncing slightly where he lies. "Did you just try and hide my tickle tickle belly from me?" The young angel shakes his head frantically, throwing his head back with laughter when he claws his fingers into his belly and shakes his hand, pulling his hands back quickly as those cruel fingers attack his belly. It's only against him that his belly is just so ticklish, his entire belly, any spot will drive him crazy, something the medic knows all too well. "You didn't?" Fingers move down to wiggle on either side of his belly button and he shrieks again, arching his back, kicking his legs out before drilling them into the bed under them. "That's good, because then I'd have to punish you."

"I dihihhahahahiiidn't! I prohohoohahahaohaohahaomise! I swehehehehahahahahear!"

"You promise, do you?" Ten fingers wiggle into the left side of his belly, and he leans to the right as much as he can, wishing he could suck in his belly, but he doesn't want another button berry, those are the worst, but when he drills his thumbs into the spots just next to his belly button, he shrieks loudly, "AAAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHAHAHA!" and sucks his belly in as much as he can. His eyes widen when he realizes what he's done, and the Power smiles down at him, fingers curling around his sides to keep him in place. "That's a button berry right there, you sucked your tummy in, your punishment is one button berry."

"NO! NO! I'M SORRY! I WON'T DO IT AGAHAHAHAAIN! IT WON'T HAHAHAHAAPPEN AAHAHAAGAIAHAHAHAIN!"

"I'm sorry, but you broke the rules, breaking the rules comes with consequences." He leans over his belly. "One button berry coming up."

"NO! NONONO! NOT THAT! NOHOHOHOAHAAHHOT THAHAHAHAHAAT! STAY AWAY! GEHEHAHAHAHEHEHET AWAHAHAHHAY! NOOOEEEIEIEIAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHA!" He squeals brightly as the berry is blown over his belly button, pushing against the Power's head as much as he can, his eyes widening when he hears him take another deep breath. "NO! NO! I ONLY DID IT ONCE! ONOHOHOAAHAHAAONLY OHOHOHAHAHAHAHOAOHAONCE!" He doesn't get a response, a face just presses over his belly button again, and he blows out a sharp vicious berry. Donavon arches his back again and screams with laughter. "EIEIEIHAHAHIAIAHAHAIAHAHAHEHEHAHAHAHA! PLE—PLEASE! ONLY ONCE! I OOHOHAOHOHAHAHAONLY DIHIHDHAHAHAHHID IT OHOHONCEEIEEAHAHAAHONCEEIEIEIEIAIAHAAHAHAHA!" Puri takes another deep breath and he squeals, nothing happens, but he squeals. "IHIHIHIITS NOHOHAHAHAAHOT FAHAHAHIHAHAHAIREEIEIAIAHAHAHAHA!"

He chuckles softly, sitting back up, wiggling his fingers back into his shaking belly, this time he fights the urge to suck in his belly with all he's worth. "Life isn't fair. I can't help it. Button berries are my favorite. I love them so much."

Sitting back again, he rests his hands over his shaking belly, smiling up at him that same smile that means tickles are about to come. "What should I do to you now?" he wiggles his index finger into the skin just under his belly button and he giggles harder. "There's no one here to save you, you're all mine, to do as I please with. Your tickly tickle torture is far from over, but there's so many choices, I don't know what to pick." He pauses his wiggling finger. "I could give those toes some nibble and kisses, that always drives you mad with laughter, I could give those toes some attention." He giggles harder at the thought of it, curling his toes up tightly, as if he's going to turn around and go after them. "I could give your little neck some nibbles and berries, that drives you crazy as well." He scrunches his shoulders up quickly to protect himself. "I could give those sides a good tickle, some berries, scurrying fingers." The medic wiggles his fingers up his sides, and he shrieks, squirming wildly from side to side. "Or those little armpits, oh those ticklish little armpits, I could give them some wiggling fingers and berries, that drives you nuts as well." He manages to sneak a finger under his clamped arm and wiggles it in, Donavon shrieks, pressing his arm down tighter, only trapping the finger underneath. "I could do all of the above, and you'll just squeal and shriek and scream and laugh and giggle, because you’re just a ticklish little angel aren't you?" Donavon presses his chin to his chest and nods, shrieking again when the finger begins to wiggle under his arm once more. "But, where to start, it all sounds so exciting, what do you think, where should we go next?"

"I thiihihihiink yohohhhaahhahaou shohhoohohoahahahahahould leheheahahahahet meheheehe gohohohahahahahooahao!"

"Now, I don't think that was one of the options." He wiggles his fingers down his sides quickly, the younger angel shrieks and jolts. "Now, I could start at the top," he wiggles his fingers back up his sides and he jolts again, shrieking brightly, squirming side to side. "Or, I could start at the bottom." He wiggles his fingers back down, and Donavon shrieks and squeaks, twisting like a worm on a hook. "But I'm not leaving any spot untickled, it's all getting some attention, but where to start." He wiggles his fingers back up his sides, Donavon shrieks again, curling his fingers around his wrists as his fingers wiggling over his higher ribs. "I think I'll start at the top." He pulls his fingers away and stretches out over top of the little angel. He shakes his head and scrunches his shoulders up tightly, blocking the access to his neck, he'll fight back as much as he can in this precarious position. A warm chuckle rumbles next to his ear. "Let me in, little guy, it's going to happen." Donavon shakes his head again, between his shoulders, giggling breathy giggles, he's not moving his shoulders for the life of him. "Open up, I'm coming in one way or another, make this easier on yourself." He shakes his head again, looking to the side with his bright bubbly eyes, staring at the torturous Power silently, save for his giggling. He shrieks when a finger worms it's way under his arm and wiggles in, throwing his arms back down to protect that spot, he opens his neck up, by the time he realizes his mistake, there's a face burrowing into his neck. The light stubble on the medic's face rubs tickly against his neck, he shrieks when teeth nibble at the side of his neck, shaking his head, tilting his head over to the side as much as he can, shrieking again when the Power growls lightly and shakes his head, nibbling at his neck again. "BAAHHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHA! STOP! STOOHHAHAHAHAOP! IT TIHIHIHAHAHAHICKLES! IT TICKLES!"

"I know it does, you little giggle monster, I'm going to give this neck some good nibbles and berries."

"NO! Nononono! NOOAHAHAHAHOAOAOHAHA! NO! NOHOHAOAOAHSSHSHHSSH! NO NIHIHIIAHHAHAHIAIBBLES! NOHOOAHAHAHO BEHEHEAHAHAHEERRIES!" He shrieks and squeals when he nibbles his neck playfully, rubbing the stubble on his chin into his ticklish little neck, and then he takes a deep breath and blows his first berry. Donavon screams, it echoes in his ear slightly, scrunching his shoulder up as much as he can with someone buried in his neck. "EIEIIAHAHAHAHAHEEEIAIAIAHAHHAHAHA!" He tilts his head away from him as much as he can, arching to the side, and jumps back around when fingers reach down to wiggle into his sides. "Come back here you, I'm not quite done yet." He jumps back into place and another berry is blown against the side of his neck. "NOOOEEEIEIEHIHAIHAHAHAHAA! NONO! NOT AGAIN!" He takes another deep breath. "NOHOAHHAHAHAHAHAHAEEIIAIAHAHAHA!" He pulls away and the shoulders immediately scrunch back up again, protecting his neck again, and he giggles wildly at the remaining tingles running over the side of his neck. "We have to get the other side too," he leans over to the other side, to the left and curls his fingers around the shoulder scrunched up there. "Open up, you ticklish little angel, you." Donavon shakes his head frantically, scrunching up tighter, not even the finger wiggling under his arm gets him to unscrunch his shoulders, and it takes all his will power not to throw his arm down like he wants to when that fingers does begin wiggling under his arm again. "You open up, you, or I'm going to pull this shoulder down and give you as many neck berries that I can."

Against his better judgment, he lowers his arm, he can't handle berries anywhere, and the stubbly face immediately burrows into his neck. He shrieks when he nibbles again, rubbing his stubbly chin over his tickly neck, and takes a deep foreboding breath. "NO! NOT AGAIN! GET OUT, GET OUT! NO BERRIES! NOOOOEEEEIEIEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAH! NOT ANOTHER NOT ANOTHEEEEIAIIAAHAHAHAHAHA! I OPENED UP! I OHOOHAHAHAHOPEEEEIIEEIAHAHAHAHAH! I OPENED UP! NOOOOEEEIEIIAHAHAHAHAAH! AAAHAHAAHAHAHIEIEIEIEEEAHAHAHAA! NO MORE BERRIES! NOHOHOOEIEEEIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHA MORE BERRIES! EEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEEEIEIEIEIEHEHAHAHAHAESE!" "I decided to give this side all the berries." "EEIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHA! MERCIIEIEEEHEAHAHAHAA! TIIEEHEHEHAHAHHEICKLES! SOHEHAHAHEHAHAAOO BAAHAHAIIEEEIEIEHEHEHAHAHAD!"

He's breathless when he finally pulls away, and immediately scrunches his arms back up, just in case of sneak attacks. Puriel smiles down at him, leaning down to brush his nose against the young angels, his face scrunches up as he does. "I'll give you a short break before we move down. Perhaps that was a bit mean, but I couldn't help myself." His chest heaves for a breath, his neck tingling still, breathless giggles still spill out softly after such a mean attack. "I told you I was going to give you the most tickly tickle torture of your life." A finger wiggles softly against his ribs and he giggles harder, arching to the side away from the finger, it continues to wiggle but it doesn't follow, he doesn't arch back until a second finger wiggles in on the other side. Once he's sure the little angel isn't going to die from laughter just yet, he begins anew, reaching to curl the fingers of his left hand around his right wrist, slowly pulling his arm up. "Okay, moving down, time for some armpit tickles." Donavon shakes his head, giggles picking up again, tugging desperately at his captured arm "I'm going to give these little armpits the most tickly tickle torture they've ever had, lots of wiggles and pokes and berries, it's going to drive you crazy from all the tickly tickles."

Donavon wishes he still had his tunic on, it had been wrestled off when he'd been thrown down on the bed for his day of torturous torture, he can't bare berries on his bare armpits, out of all the berries, other then button berries, those are the worst berries, bare armpit berries. Despite his struggle against it, his arm is lifted above his head and trapped there, fingers curled securely, not too tightly, but securely, around his wrist, trapping his arm above his head and opening his underarm for as many tickles as the medic wants to give it. He shrieks and jumps when a finger pokes at his armpit, poking all over, leaving no spot unpoked. The Power settles over top of him, his shoulder rubbing against his chin, looking down at his new tickle spot as he pokes around the ticklish little armpit, basking in the joyous shrieks and giggles echoing around them. "Ahehehehehahahahah! NO! Let go! Lehehehehet gohoho!"

"I don't think so, I _told_ you I was going to give this little armpit a tickly tickle torture, and I don't say things that I don't mean." He stops his poking, settling his finger in the middle of the hollow of the underarm, and rests it there. "Are you ready for the tickles, little guy?" Donavon shakes his head, his chin pressing to the Power's shoulder as he tries to turn his head over there, but he can't see, and that's the worst, he can't see what kind of torture he's going to get and that means he can't prepare for it, it's going to be so bad. Puri is already in a right torturous mood today, as he's been taking out on the poor little angel, but now he can't see, that's just unfair and the worst. The finger wiggles in deeply, and he shrieks, laughter bubbling up from his belly and filling in the space the giggles had been filling just moments before. "Aahahahahahehehehehahahaha! NO! Ahehehahahahahehehaha! Get it out! GET IT OUT!" The only thing that happens is another finger joining the first. "AHEHEHEHAHAHAHA! Bahahehehahahheahhaha! Not there! Nohoohahahahaot thehehehehahahhaaeheere!" The fingers spread slightly and he jolts, tugging at his arm again, pressing his cheek against the Power's shoulder as he tries to turn over again. The second finger disappears and the first circles around his armpit, away from the hollow, up to the edge, and then it slowly circles back down, all the while the younger angel is cracking up, drilling his heels into the bed, his fingers flexing in the grasp around his wrist, when the finger returns to wiggle in his hollow again. "Ahehehehehahahahahahahehehe! Bahahehehehahahaha! Not there! Not theehehehahaheheahaheheere!" The finger pulls away and he sucks in gulps of beloved air, his chest heaving wildly, his belly shaking still from the force of his laughter. And, it's then that he hears the forewarning about what's to come next. "Time for some armpit berries."

And, that's the only warning he gets before there's a deep inhale of breath and his stubbly face is pressing to his armpit, blowing out a vicious berry over the sensitive skin that's normally hidden from view. Donavon screams with laughter, tugging desperately at his arm again, scratching wildly at the fingers curled around his wrist, squealing loudly when another berry is blown into the hollow of his armpit. "EIEIEIIEEEEEAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA! NO BERRIES! NO AHAAHAHAHARMPIT BEIIEEEHAAHAHAHHEEEHEERRIES!" He only takes another deep breath and shakes his head, blowing out viciously over his ticklish armpit. "EEIEIIEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHHEHEHAHA! IHHIHIEHEHEHEIIIT TIHIHIHIHEHEEHHICKLES SOHOHOH BABAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAEEEEIIEAAHAHAHAHA! EIEIEIAHAHAHAHA STOOHOHOHOAAHAHAHOP! NOHOHOSAOOAOAHO MOHOHORORE! PLEEIAIAIEEAAAHAHAHAHHAAHAEASE!" He breaths feverishly, his chest heaving, when he finally pulls away, the tingles driving the giggles that continue to pour from his heaving belly. Puriel smiles down at him, he knows that smile, he knows it well, as he switches to the other side, letting him take a moment to catch his breath. "We can't forget the other side. Since I was kind of mean over there, I won't give this one any berries, maybe, I haven't really decided yet, after all, these little armpits deserve all the berries they can get." Donavon’s giggles pick up when he feels the single finger circle gently around his armpit, starting at the edge and working it's way down slowly, twirling around and around, it drives him nuts, because he knows what's about to happen when it gets to where it's going. "Ahahahaheheheheahahaha!" The finger gets to it's destination, wiggling furiously into the hollow of his armpit, the giggles pick up into laughter, and he turns, pressing his cheek to the Power's other shoulder. "Ehehhahahahaheehahahaa! Get it out! Nohohooaoaoaoaot thereehehehaahahaere! Get it out! Geehehahahehahet ihihiit ohhohohoaohahahahout!" Another finger joins it, then another, until five fingers are fluttering over his exposed armpit, and he shrieks at the sensation, kicking his feet wildly, tugging at the Power's tunic with his free hand, trying to pull him away. "Ahehehehahahahahaiiiieeeaaaaa! Tihihshshahahahahickles! IT TICKLES!"

"Does it?" His fingers pull away for a moment. "Does this tickle too?" he buries his face into his armpit, pressing little kisses over the hollow, taking a deep breath and blowing a big berry over the sensitive spot. Donavon shakes his head, pressing close against the Power's shoulder, kicking his feet again when he blows another berry. "EIEIEIEIHEEEEHAHAHAHHAHA! AAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHA! YOU SAID NO BERRIES! YOHOHOHAHAHAHOU SAHAHAHIHIHIHIHIAID NOHOHOAHAHAHOO BERRIEEEEEEHAHAHAHAHAHEEIES!" "I lied." "AHAHAHHIEIEEIEEEEIAIAAHAHAHAHA! NO MORE! NOHOHEIEIEIEEEHHAHAHAA! YOHOHOOOOOOU SAIAHAHAHAIAIAIAIEHEHEHHAID NOHOHOOIIEEEEIAIHAHAHAHA BERRIES!" "I just told you I lied, I'm not going to pass up giving these tickly little armpits berries." "HABABAHAHEHEHEHEIEEIEAAHAHAHA! NOHOHOEEEEIAIAIAHAHAHAHA! NO BERRIES! NOHOHOSHEIEIEIEIHSHSHAHAHAHAA BEEHEHEHAHAHAHAHERRIES!"

He pulls away from the armpit, and he thinks he's done, but five fluttering fingers reappear again and he shrieks, arching his back, as best as he can with the Power laying over him, tugging on his arm, trying to roll over onto his side to get away, but he can't move, and he just throws his head back in laughter, cackling like a mad man. "Bahaheheheahhahaha nohohoooeohahahah fihihingers! Nohohosshahahahoho fluahahaheehehehheahahutters!" "No berries, no flutters, what about this?" "Ahahahehehehehahaha nohohohahahahaohoho! Thaahahahhthahahhahats wohohohoahahahahhworse! GET IT OUT! Geeheheheheahahahhaaet ihihihit ohohhahahahahout!" The wiggling fingers halts for a moment but doesn't move from where it sits. "Nah." The moment it starts wiggling again the young angel screams. "AHAhahahahahhieeiieiehahahhahaha! Nohohohoahhahaooho nooahahahahahooo! Nohohaohahahaohot theheheheahahahahaheheheheere! Thaahahahahat tihihishehehehahahahaickles!" "It tickles? Do these flutters tickle too?" Five fingers flutter over his armpit again and he squeals, nodding desperately, even though the Power isn't looking to see if he does. "YEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHHEEESSSSS! TIHIHIAHAHAHAHAHICKLES! TIHIHHHHEEEHAHAHAHAHICKLES! NOOHOHOAHAHAHAOHHAHOA MOROHAHAHAHAHOHEHOEHORE FLUHUAHAHAHAUTTERS! NOHOHAHAHAHA MORE!" "That tickles too. What about these berries, do these tickles too?" "NO! NO BERRIES! NOHOHOAHAHAHAHEIEEIEIEEEAHAHAHAHAHA! YEHEHEEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAES IHIHAHIAHEHEHEHAHAHIT TIIHIHIAHEHEHAHAHAHAHICKLES!" "Good, have a few more." "NO! NOHOHOAHAHOAHAO! EEEIEIIHAAHAHAHAHHAA! EIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHAH! HAHAHAHEEEIIAHEHEHAHAA! STOOHOHAHAHEIEIEIAIHAHAHAHAHEOP! NOHOHOAHAHHEIEIEEIHAHAAHA MOHOHAHAHAHAOHORE!"

"Okay, no more berries," He lets go of the wrist he holds captive and digs under both of his armpits, laughing as he squeals, "EIIEIEIAIAHAHAHAHAHEHEHAHAHAHA!, and arches his back. "How about some digs, I know how much you like the digs, I like them too." Donavon shakes his head wildly, his curls bouncing around as he bounces lightly under the Power, it tickles so much. Puri is going to kill him today. He's going to die from tickles. "NOHHOHOHOHAHAHAHOAHOAHOOO! THATTAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHHEHATS NOHOHOAHAHAOOT WHAHAHAHEHEHEAHAHAHAT IHIHHIHAHAHAHEHEHEEHII MEHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAENT! GEHEHEAHAHAHHAEET OHOHAOHAHAHAOUT! GEHEHEAHAHAEHEHET THEHEHEAHAHAHEHEM OHOHOHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHOUT!"

Puriel pulls away completely, resting back on his elbows, watching as he laughed like crazy still, his chest heaving, the laughter dying down into hysterical giggles, as he wraps his arms around his chest tightly, protecting his armpits from any sneak attacks, because Puri is known for sneak attacks. But he just lays there, watching him catch his breath, and smiles when their eyes meet. "I forgot how ticklish your little armpits are."

"You're going to kill me!"

"I am not. I'm giving you breaks. I'm being nice."

"That was mean! You were being mean!"

"I was not, I'm being nice, I don't have to give you breaks. Though perhaps I was a bit mean on that armpit there, maybe there was a bit too many berries, I could feel you kicking like a mad man." He rubs at his ear lightly. "You were squealing like a fledgling in my ear."

"You deserved it!"

"Oh," he wiggles a single finger in both of his sides, and he giggles brightly, squirming slightly from side to side, but the fingers follow him wherever he goes. "I deserved to have my eardrum ruptured by a fledglinglike squeal?" Donavons nods and swipes at his fingers, he goes undeterred and drills his fingers into the slight chub on his sides, the younger angel shriek and arches his back. "I was going to let you have a longer break then that, but then you said I _deserved_ having my eardrum blown out, so now your break is over, lets move down to these sides. These are Nis's favorite place, he loves giving these little sides some tickles, oh I've heard those squeals when he rubs his beard into these spots. Let's see what I can do to them, shall we?" He reaches over to spider ten fingers up his right side, and he shrieks, arching to the left, and the fingers jump over to that side, they repeat the process time and time again, until he's laughing brightly and jumping from side to side, it's amusing to the Power. "You know what, I'm going to show how nice I'm being, I won't give these sides any more berries then they need."

"Nohoho beheheherries!"

"Oh no, I can't say that, they need some berries."

"Nohoho thehehehey dohohon't!"

"But they do, they need some berries, it's not right to not get any berries."

"Pleheheheeease!"

"Oh, alright, since you said please, I'll think about it." He holds his one side steady as he spiders his fingers up and down the other side, it drives the little angel crazy, his laughter picking up, shrieking at the steady torture. "How about spiders, can I do spiders?" He switches sides and laughs softly when he tries to jump away and finds himself trapped by the arm on his other side. Donavon shakes his head again. "Nohoaaoahahahahahoohhoho! Nohhoahahahoahoahoohooo spihihihisiisiiihihiders!"

"It's spiders or berries, for right now, you get to choose which one comes first, because I'm being nice." He spiders his fingers up both of his sides, and then back down, up again, and back down. Donavon bounces from side to side, squirming like crazy, shaking his head frantically, he won't pick either of those, either Puri will trick him and give him the other option, or he'll actually do what he says he would rather have, so he sticks to shaking his head. "If you don't pick in the next ten seconds, I'm going to pick for you, and my first go to is _always_ berries. I _love_ me some berries, they're my _favorite_ treat."

"Nohohoho beeeheheheheheherries! Nohoohohahahaohaoo!"

"Then you have to choose."

"Spihihiihahahahaiahahapiders! SPIDERS!"

"Spiders it is." He spiders ten fingers up his left side, then jumps to his right, back to his left, and on to the right. The little angel shrieks with every trail of spiders shooting up his sides, rocking from side to side as he tries to evade those spiders tickling up his sides. "These are tickly spiders, aren't they?" He rocks up onto his right side, leaving the left open for all the spiders, fingers curl around his ribs to keep him from falling back over, and the free fingers spider up and down his side again and again, and he shrieks with laughter, kicking his legs, falling limply against the arm keeping him up on his side, trying to bring enough weight against it to let him down. But Puri's a Power, he's strong, the lightweight of a young angel resting against his arm isn't going to cause it to give out. "They love tickling little angels, and you're a little angel, they love tickling you." The fingers spider back down his side again, and spider down over his lower belly, as he moves his arm, letting the little angel roll back over again, he cackles as he spiders his fingers around his belly.

"Ahahaahahahahahehehehahahaha nohohoosohahahahhaaot thehehehahahahehee beheheheheelly!" he arches his back, pressing his chin to his chest, squirming from side to side, but the fingers are relentless. "Nohohoahahahaheheheahahahahahohoho!"

"Don't worry, we'll come back to this belly later, the spiders are just working their way over to your other side."

"Nohohoho mohohoaohahahahahoore spihihihiahahahahahiders!"

"No more spiders?" Fingers spider up his right side and he shrieks brightly. "You want some berries instead?"

"Nohohohoahahaohaohaha beheheheeahahahherries! Nohohaohahahahoaoao! Spihihihahahahahiaiahhiders! Spihihahahaiiaiders!"

"You still want some tickly spiders instead of berries?"

Donavon nods frantically, rolling up onto his left side, leaving the right open for tickly spiders. Like the other side, an arm braces him so he can't roll back over and fingers spider rapidly up and down his right side again and again, and he squeals brightly, falling limply against the arm bracing him up again. "Nohohoahahahaohaoo mohohoohoheheheheore spihihihihiehehahahahahiders!" He chuckles softly, letting the young angel fall back over again, spidering his fingers up and down both sides, the little guy squirming side to side like a little worm on a fisher's hook. "No more spiders, does that mean it's time for berries?"

"Nohohohhoahahhahahooo! Nohohhahahaho beheheeheaahahahhaerries!"

"So, does that mean you want more spiders?"

"Nohohohahahahoaahahahaho mohohohahahaoahoahore spihihihieieheheheheahhahahaiders!"

"Okay, then it's time for berries."

"NO! Nohohoho! Noohoho beheheherries! No! NO! NONONO! STAY AWAY! GET AWAY GEEHEHEHEHEET AWAHAHAHEHEHAHEHAHAHAY!"

The Power merely chuckles at his pleads and demands, curling his fingers around the boy's left wrist, pulling his arm away from his side, takes a deep breath, and leans down to press his lips to the young angels bare side. Donavon shrieks, tensing under him in anticipation, giggling harshly as he waits, stewing in it, and then he blows his berry. "EEIIEIEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHA!" Takes another breath. "AHAHAHAHAEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAEIEIIAHAHAHAHAHA!" The long berries are the worst, the ones that seem like they'll never end, those are the bad ones. "EEIEIEIEEHEHEHAHHAHAHHEEHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEHHAHAAHA!" Now he's really torturing him, he said he wouldn't give more then he thought was needed, so he was giving him big long berries to make up for it. "EIEIEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHHIEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHA!" He takes another deep breath, and he shrieks before the lips can even press to his side, arching away from the Power as far as he can go. "Get back here, you, we're not done with our berries yet." He tugs him back over and presses deeply into his side, blowing the long vicious berry. "EIEIEIIAIAIHAAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEHEHAHAHA!" "One more." "NO! NO MORE! NOOEHEHHOAHAHOAHO! EIEIEHAHAHAHAHEHEHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHHEHEHHA!"

He pulls away after the last one, the super long one, his side still tingles from it, and let's go of his wrist, though it's not for long, the Power curls his fingers around the other, pulling his right arm away as he takes a deep breath and presses into his right side. "EIEIIEEIIEEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!" "More berries for this side now." "NO! NOHOHOAHOHAHAHO MORE! NOHEHEOEHAHAHO BEHEHEHAHHEHEHAHAHERRIES!" "Oh, you're getting berries." "IEIEIEIHEEHEEHHEAAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHA!" Donavon kicks his feet, reaching over with his free hand to try and cover his side from further attacks, but fingers curl around that wrist and pull it back as he blows another long berry. "EEIEIIEIEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHIAIAIIAAHAHAHAHA! NOHOOHSHSHAHAHAHAHO! YOHOHOUUAOAOAOOAHHAHAHAOUR BEHEHEHEING MEEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHENEEIEIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHA! IEIEIEEAAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAH! NOHHOAHOAHAHIAIEIEIEEHAHAHAHAHAHAA!" "How dare you say I'm mean, for that, you get extra berries." "NOOOHEHEHAHAHAHEAHAHAHAIEIEIEHEEHAHHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHHAHAHAHAHI'M SOOHOHOHHOHAHAHHAAHAHORRY! AHAHAHAHAIEIEIEAHHAHAHHAHAHHAA! IHIHIIHI TAHAHAHHEHEHEAKE IIHIHIIT BAHAHAHAHAAEIEIEIIAAAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHHAHA!" "To late, you're getting extra berries, you must be punished now." "EIEIEIEHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAHHAEHEHHHEHEHEHEAHAHAH! IHIHIHIAHAHAHAAAHAI'M SOHOHOOHAHAHAHAHOAOORORRY! EIEIEIEHEEAHEHAHAHAHAEHEHEHEAHAHAHA! IIEIEHEAAHAHAHHAHEHEHEE TAHAHAHEHEEEHEHAHAKE IHIHISIAHHAHAHAHAIIEEIEEIAIAIAHAHAHAHHAIT BAHAHAHHAHAHAEHIEIEIEIHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAAACK!"

He chuckles as he pulls back, the young angel’s face is beat red, his chest heaving for a breath, breathless giggles spilling over still from the brutal attack. Puriel looks down at his belly with raised eyebrows. "Technically this belly is next, should we get more button berries?"

"NO! NOT BUTTON BERRIES!"

"We'll save best for last then. Let me get those toes first. They could go with a good nibble."

He turns himself around, still laying over his legs, and reaches for his right foot. Donavon giggles behind him and curls his toes up tightly, he's not getting nibbles, no sir, nibbles are bad, nibbles are the worst torture one could do to his toes, he's not making toe nibbles easy for him. Fingers wiggle into his soul, curled around the edges of his foot, and he shrieks brightly. "You uncurl those toes, they need nibbles, you uncurl them little angel." Donavon shakes his head frantically, though the Power can't see, refusing for anything in the world. Fingers wiggle over his sole again. "Ahaahahahahahehehehahahahaha! NO!" But his toes uncurl involuntarily, when he finds a particular sensitive spot on his foot and focuses on it until his toes fan out, and once they have, he holds his foot steady and—"AIEIEIEIEIAIIAAIAHHAHAHAHAHA!" then come the toe nibbles. "Ahahahahahhehehehahahaa nohohoeheheahaha nihihibiaiaiaihibbles!" He nibbles down the line of toes, focusing on the baby toe, because that's one of the worst. Donavon throws his head back in uproarious laughter, kicking his leg as much as he can, the toes of his other foot curl up at the extreme toe torture. Puri pulls his toes forward and press little kisses underneath them, nibbling at the soft skin underneath, it drives him crazy, he pounds his fists against the bed, kicking his free foot out wildly. "IEIEIHAHAHAHEHEHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOOAHAHAHAOOT THEHEHEHEHE TOHOHOAHOHES! NOHOHAHAHOAHOAOOT THEHEHERE!" "Lots of toe nibbles." "AHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHA! DOHOHOAHAHAHOON'T TIHIHIICKLE MAHAHAHHAAMY TOHOHOEHEHEHSHES! AHAHAHAEEEHEHEHEHAHAHAAHA PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAHEASE!" Puriel turns quickly to the other foot, getting his nibbles in before he can curl his toes up and the young angel shrieks again, laughter picking up just as it was before, shaking his head frantically, kicking his newly freed foot wildly next to him. "PLEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEASE! NOHOHOAHAHAAHOAHOOT MAHAHHAHAHAHYMY TOHOHOEHEHEHEHEHOES! BAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHA!" "Not your toes?" "Nohohooahahahahooo!"

Puriel chuckles softly as he turns back around, looming over his belly. "Then, we'll come back to where we started, this precious ticklish little belly." He wiggles his fingers over the shaking belly, and Donavon shrieks in anticipation, sucking in his belly as much as he can. Puriel raises his eyebrows. "Did you just suck in your belly?" It's in that moment that Donavon remembers what happens when he sucks in his belly, and his eyes widen, shaking his head as hands brace around him. "NO! NOT THAT! No! STAY AWAY! I'M SORRY! I FORGOT! IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN! IHIHIHIIT WOHOHOHOAOHAHAHAHAON'T HAHAHAHAHAPPEEHEHEEHEHEN AGAIHIHIHIAHAHAHAHAIN!" The Power takes a deep breath, dramatically puffing up his cheeks, lowering himself over his belly. Fingers curl into his hair again, and he pushes against his head with all his might, not the button berries. Not again. "NOHOHOHOAOOAHAHAHAHAHOT AHAHAHAHAA BUHUHHUAHAHAHAHTTON BEHEHEAHAHAHAHEHERRY!"

Lips press against his belly button, and he squeals, bracing himself for it, it's going to tickle. It's going to tickle so bad.

"EIEIEIEIHAIHAHAHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAIIAHAHAHEHEEHHAHAA! NO! NO! NOT ANOTHER! I ONLY DID IT ONCE! OHOHOAHAHAHAOONLY OHOHOOAHAHAONCE! EEIEIEEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHEHEHAHAA! NO MORE! NO MORE BUTTON BERRIES! NOHOHOAHAHAHAHO MOHOHORREEHEHEHEHE! EIEIIEIHAHAHAHAEHEHEAHHAHAHA!"

Puriel sits back up, smiling at his misery. "My giggle belly gets as many berries as I want it to, and I say it gets lots of button berries, so it's going to get lots of button berries."

"NO! NO MORE! NO BUTTON BERRIES! THEY TICKLE! THEHEHEHEHEY TIHIHICKLE! NOHOHOHOO!" As the Power looks back down to his abused belly, Donavon sucks it in, he's getting button berries anyway, he's going to avoid them as best as he can. "Oh, now you're getting an extra bad button berry." The medic takes a massive breath and begins lowering himself towards his belly again, Donavon kicks his feet in anticipation, it's going to be so tickly, it's going to tickle so bad, he knows it, it's going to be really, really tickly. Lips press over his belly button and sit there, he laughs anticipatory laughs, arching his back sharply, drilling his heels into the bed, it's going to be a bad one, he knows it is. And then he blows. Its long and hard and sends tickly vibrations all around his belly, and he squeals, he squeals loud and high pitched. "EIEIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEAHEAHEHEHEHAAHAHAHAHAHA! BAHAHEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHA! NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! NOHOHOHAHAAHAOOT AGAHAHAIEIEIEHAHAHAHEAHHAHA! NOHOHOEOEIEIEAAHAHAHAHAH! NO MORE! NO MORE BUTTON BERRIES! EIEIEIHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHEHEHAAHAHAHAHA! NO WAIT—EIEIIEAIHAAHAHAHHAHAHIEIHEAHAHA! MERCIEIIEIEIEAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Mercy?" He sits up slightly, spidering his fingers over the shaking belly, the little angel shrieks and kicks, wiggling from side to side, bucking to try and dislodge those spidering fingers. "I don't know what that is. You get no mercy. You only get button berries."

"NO! NO MORE BUTTON BERRIES! THEY TICKLE! THEY TIHIHIICKLE! NOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAY AAAHAHWAAHAHHAY! EEIEIEIEIHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHIEIEIEIAAIHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NO! NOOEEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAA!"

"And a berry here," he takes a breath and presses his lips against the right side of his belly, blowing a long hard berry into the slightly pudgy skin. "EIEEIIEAHAHAAHAHEHEHAHEAHAHAHAHAHAHEHAHAHA! NOHOHOOHOOO MOHHAHAHAHAHAHORE!" He moves over to the left side, "and a berry here." He takes an equally long breath and blows another vicious berry. "AHAHAHAHHAEEIEIIEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" He moves to the spot under his belly button, "this spot gets a berry too." He takes another deep breath. "EIEIIEIIEHAHAHAHEHAHAHEHEHAHAHHAHA!" He moves to the spot above his belly button. "And this spot gets a berry." He takes another breath. "AHAHAHAHEEIEIEIEIAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHA!"

Puriel sits up slightly, looking him in the watering eyes. "And, the button gets a big bad berry." He takes the biggest breath yet, and lowers himself slowly, taking in the hysterical laughter exploding from their little angel. "NO! NO MORE! GET AWAY! STAY AWAY! NO BUTTON BERRIES! NOHOHOHO!" His laughter picks up the closer he gets. "NOHOHOHO! GEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHEEHEHET AWAAHAHAHHAHAWAHHAHAHAY! NOHOHOHOO BEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHAHEELLY BEHEHHEERRIES!" Lips press over his belly and sit there, but he squeals anyway, kicking his legs and shaking his head. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAEHEHEHAHAHAH! Then he blows, and he squeals louder. "EEIEIEIIEAAIHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHAA!"

"Okay, I'm satisfied. You've been tortured enough." The medic rolls off of him, stretching out next to him instead, crossing his ankle comfortably, smiling in amusement at the giggling ball of little angel he's left in his wake. Donavon curls on his side, his chest heaving, wiping tears from his eyes, giggling breathlessly still. He shakes his head, reaching down to stroke his fingers through the dark silky curls, scratching his head softly. "I'm sorry, that was mean, I won't be that mean again."

The little angel giggles softly. "My belly huhuhurts."

"Come'ere, little guy." He tugs on his curls lightly, and Donavon lifts himself up, crawling languidly over to his side, curling around the older angel. The medic curls his arm around him, pulling him close to his side, rubbing at his back softly. "You just calm down now, take it easy." The young angel nods lightly, closing his eyes softly, sighing in content at the fingers rubbing at his back soothingly. "That's it, close those eyes, you take a nap now, you're completely spent."

"I love you, papa, in all your tickle monster glory.”

“I love you too, my little Avon, more then you know.”


	220. The Claw Brothers (Hamaliel & Abraxos)

“Oh, Hama,” he calls out to the empty upstairs, his training is finished for the day, but his brothers is not, it’s just him and his little guy. “It’s that time of the day.” He sticks his hands in his pockets as he kicks his boots off by the entrance, and slowly turns, crossing passed the Lounge and Kitchen. “Papa, needs to give that little chubby tickle tummy some attention and love.” He makes his way down the hall. “I’m going to drive you crazy with all the tickles.” He comes to stand in the doorway to his room, out of all his boys, this young one is the best at hiding, he’s as silent as a church mouse, but they never learn, he knows exactly where he’s hiding. “That little tickle tummy of yours is going to get a mighty tickly tickle torture, I’m feeling particularly tickle monstrous today, is that tummy ready for it?” He smiles when he hears the soft giggling coming from under his bed, he knows how to make his boys giggle, sometimes just the threat of tickles is enough to bring those giggles about. “The claw brothers are eager to see you.”

“Nohohot thehehe clahahaw!” He chuckles, reaching under the bottom edge of his bed, his fingers curling around small ankles, and tugs the boy out from under his bed. Hamaliel giggles up at him, holding his tunic down, shaking his head. “Pahahhaappaahahahha! Nohohot thehehe clahahaw!”

“Aw, but the claw brothers _really_ want to see you.” He lifts him up by the ankles, and Hamaliel shrieks as he swings around, waving his arms around, letting go of his tunic, it slides down to cover his face, revealing his chubby little tummy, oh, Abraxos muses, that chubby little tummy is in for quite the tickle torture this afternoon. “Who are we to deny them their visit?”

He lifts the small youngling up, tossing him over onto his bed, Hamaliel giggles harder, and throws his hands down to cover his tummy, instead of tugging his tunic back down. “Come here, you.” He drops himself over his youngling’s legs, curling his fingers around his wrists, he pulls his hands away easily, tugging them over to rest at his sides. “There’s my little chubby tickle tummy.” He winks up at him. “I don’t want these hands getting in my way.” The second oldest Power stretches his arms out slightly, and presses them down into the mattress, and Hamaliel tries to pull them back when he lets go, but finds that he can’t, and he makes a face. “Papa, that’s cheating! You can’t use your grace!”

“I can, if I want, I’m the tickle monster here, I can do anything I please.” Abraxos raises his hands slightly, and the youth’s eyes widen, shaking his head as giggles begin to bubble their way up. “Look who’s here to see you.”

“Pahahhaappaahahahahaha nohohohoho! Nohohhot thehehe clahaahhaaws! Nohohoot theehehe clahahahaw brohohothers! Pleheheheease!”

“The claw brothers have been waiting all _week_ to see you.” He turns his hands over, pressing his fingers into the boy’s belly, and there they rest. “They’ve been waiting so patiently to tickle this chubby little tummy.”

“PahahahappahhahahahaaaaeeEEIEEIEIEIIEAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO!” And he claws his fingers in, wiggling and vibrating them all around, clawing torturously at his tummy. “EIIEIEIEIIIIAAIAIAAAHAAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAEEEIEEIEIEHEAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHA! NOHHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAW! EIEIEIAIAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHHAA! EIEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHEEEAEAEAIEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! SEHEHEHEHEND THEHEHEHEM AAHAHHAHAWAY! PLEHEHEHHEHEAASE! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEE CLAAHAHAHHAHAHAWS! EIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAAHHAHHAA!”

He lifts his hands, Hamaliel pants under him, tugging fruitless on his arms, they don’t move an inch. “Why don’t you ask them to leave?”

The youngling giggles. “Plehehease leave clahahaw brothehehers.”

Abraxos looks between his hands. “No, they don’t want to leave just yet.” And claws his fingers back into his tummy.

Hamaliel squeals, kicking his legs under him, throwing his head back as he cackled brightly. “EEIEIIEIEAIAIAIIIAIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHHOEEEEIEIEIAAIIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! PAHAHHAHAHAAPPAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHHOT THAHHAHHAHAHHAAT! EIEIIEAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHHAAAEIEIEIIAEIAIIAAIHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAWS! THEHEHEHEHEY TIHIHIHIHICKLE! THEHEHEHHEEY TIHIHIHIHICKLEEIEIEIEAIAIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THEHEHEHHEEY TIHIHIHIHICKLE! PAHAHHAHAAPPAPAAAAHAHAHAHHAHHAHA!”

“I told you that this little chubby tickle tummy was getting tickle tortured, didn’t I?”

“EEIEEIIEIAAIAIIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA MEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHAAN! YOHOHOHHOHOHOHOUR BEEHEHEHHEHEING MEHEHEHHEAN! AHAHAHAHAHAHHAEEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAW BROHOHOHOOTHERS! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEEM! EEIEIEIEAIIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Abraxos chuckles softly, but stops clawing at his belly, Hamaliel giggles feverishly squirming from side to side as he pokes a circular path around his belly. “I love this little chubby tickle tummy very much, it’s my littlest chubby tickly tummy, therefore it gets the most tickles.” He wiggles a finger just to the right of his belly button. “You know what I think this tummy needs?”

“Nohohothing! It neheheeds nohohothing!”

“No, no, I think it needs something.” He flutters his fingers around, and the youngling shrieks, arching his back slightly. “I think it needs some flutters.”

“Nohohohoo ihihihihit dohhohohohoesn’t! Pahahhahaapapaahahhahaha nohohoho! Aahahahhahahahahahhaha ahahahahhahahahahahahhaa aahahahahhahahhahaaahaa! Nohohhohot fluuuhuhuhuhutters! Nohohohohot thohohohose! Ahahhahahahahhahahaa ihihihit tihihihickles! Nohohoho mohohohohore! It tihihihickles!”

“No flutters?” He pulls his hands back, forming claws once more. “Should the claw brothers come back?”

Hamaliel’s eyes widen and he squeals. “EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHA NOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAWS!”

Abraxos nods lightly. “So, you want flutters then?”

“Nohohoho! Nohohohone!”

He shakes his head. “One or the other, I’ll let you pick, I’ll give you thirty seconds, if you don’t choose by then, I’m going to pick.”

“Pahahahhaapapaahahhaha noohohohoho!”

“Twenty seconds.”

“Nohohohhho! Nohoho mohhohohore!”

“Ten seconds.”

“Eeieieieiiaaiaiaaahahahahahahahaa nohohohohoho! Plehehehehheease!”

“Five, four, three, two, one.” Abraxos smiles down at him, holding up his two hands, Hamaliel’s eyes widen as he looks between the two of them. “Look who’s back.” They’re shaped like claws. “The claw brothers just really love your chubby little tummy.”

“NahahhahahahahaaAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAEAEEIEIEIIEAIAIAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHHAAGAIN! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAEEIEIEAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOT THOHOHOSE! EIEIEIAIAIAAIAAHAAAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA! PAHAHAHHAAPAPAHAHAHAHHAA! PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEASE!”

The second oldest Power chuckles softly. “I can’t stop them, they’ve decided they want this chubby little tummy all for themselves, they’re going to claw all over this chubby little tummy.”

“IHIHIHIHIHII CAHAHAHHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT! EIEEIEIAIIAIAAIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOSE! NOOOHOHOHOHHOT THEHEHEHE CLAAHAHAHHAHAHAWS! THEHEHEHEHEEY TIHIHIHICKLE! IHIHIHIHIT TIIHIHIHIHICKLES! THEHEHEHEH CLAHAHAHAHAWS TIHIHIHIHICKLE! EIEIEIAIAIIAIAIAAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEEASE! AAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHEEIEIAIAIEAIEAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!”

He smiles softly. “There is _one_ way to get rid of the claw brothers.”

“EIEIEIIEAIAIAIAIIAIAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA HOHOHOHOHOHOW! HOHOHOHOHOWW! AAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHHOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! HOOHOHOHOHOW!”

“You have to say, _‘I want berries on my chubby tickle tummy’_.”

“NOHOHOHOHOHO! NNOHOHOHOHOHOT BEHEHEHEHHEERRIES! EIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!”

“That’s the _only_ way to get rid of the claw brothers.”

Hamaliel arches his back and squeals. “EIEIIEAIAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA! AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AIHIHIHIHIHIHI WAHAHAHHAANT BEHEHEHHHHEHEHEHERRIES OHOHOHOOHON MYHYHYHYHY CHUHUHUHUBBY TIHHIHIHIICKLE TUHUHUMMY!”

His guardian smiles. “Okay.” Takes a deep breath and buries his face into his belly.

“EEEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAEIEIAEIEIEIEIAIAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO THAHAHAHAHHAT WOHOHOHOORSE! EIEIIAIAIAIAAIHAHHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHIAIAAIIAIAAIAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA! THAHAHAHHAHATS WOOHOHOHOHOHORSE! NOHOHOHOT BEHEHEHEHEHEEHEERRIES! EEEEEEAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA PAHAHAHAHHAAPAPAAAHHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHHORE! PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE! EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHO BEHEHEHEHHEERRIES! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES! IHIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES PAAAAHAHHAHAAHHAHAAPAAPAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA IHHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! EIEIEIAIIAIAAIAIAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHO NIHIHIHIHIBBLES! PAHAHAHAHAHAPAPAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AAAAAAAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAA AE EEIEIIEIEIEIEIAIAIIAIAAIAAAAAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! STOHOHOHOOHOP! STOOOHOOHOOHOHOOHHOP! EIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEIEIEIEIIEIEAAIAAIAIAHAAAHHAAHAAHAHHAAHHHAHA! IIHHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT! STOHOHHOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIT! EIEIEIIEIIEAIIAIAAIAHAAAAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEASE PAHAHAHAHHAHAAPAPAHHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Ah, I feel so much better now.” Abraxos turns his head, laying on his belly, it shakes with delirious giggles. “Today was such a _hard_ day, but this adorably chubby tickle tummy made it so much better.”

“Pahahhahaapapaaahhahahahha nohohoho mohohohore pleehehheheease nohohoho moohohohore!” Hamaliel giggles deliriously. “Nohohoho mohohohore! Myhyhy behehehelly! My behehehelly!”

He chuckles, sitting up. “What about your belly?”

“Myhyhy beheheelly huhuhurts! Eehehehehehhehe myhyhyhy behehheelly!”

“Look at you.” He sits up, rolling over to sit next to him, wiping a tear off his cheek. “You’re a complete mess.”

“I’m tehehehelling Nihihis ohohohon yohohohou!”

The Power chuckles softly. “I probably deserve that.” He curls his fingers under his arms. “Come here, my little hummingbird, I’ll rub your tummy, no surprise attacks, I promise.” Hamaliel slowly gets his giggles under control, as he rests back against his guardian’s chest, between his legs, and a large warm hand rubs at his tummy soothingly. “Let’s just all calm down and relax, there we go, that’s it.”

“I love you, papa.”

“I love you too, little hummingbird.” He presses a kiss to the back of the boy’s head. “Oh, so very much.”


	221. Facing Initiation (Nisroc, Abraxos, & Hamaliel)

“So, little Hama, I hear you want to join my family.” His eyes are wide, looking between the two oldest Powers, his eyes water, and he looks over to his guardian on his left, he’d cover his belly with his hands if he could move them, his papa is a cheating cheater who cheats, using his grace to hold him down. “Paaapaaaa! I didn’ want him to see!”

Abraxos frowns, and he doesn’t have to look up to know that Nisroc’s eyebrows have furrowed, he leans forward, pressing his nose to the youth’s cheek, rubbing his cheek with his nose softly. “See what, my little one?”

“My big belly! I didn’ want him to see it! He’s big and strong and I’m little and fat!”

The second oldest Power sighs, as though he’s about to address a common problem, but Nisroc takes control of the situation, the youngling falling into a fit of giggles as he pokes all around his belly, his head turning around to look at him instead of his guardian. “You mean, you never wanted me to see this absolutely adorable little tummy?” Hamaliel giggles fervently and shakes his head. “No? I would have been very upset if I never got to meet this adorable little tummy, I’ve heard lots of good things, I said, I need to see this tummy for myself, see if all these things I’m hearing are true. And, thus far, I haven’t been let down.” The youth only giggles, shimmying his waist around, as he pokes relentlessly at his tummy. “Oh, what have we here?” He dips a finger into his belly button, and the boy squeaks, sucking in his belly as much as he can. “Is this a little giggle button I’ve found?” He wiggles his finger lightly, and the boy shrieks with giggles, high pitched bubbly giggles filling the room, as he arches his back, kicking his feet slightly. “It _is_ a little giggle button.”

He smiles at the bubbly giggles. “So, little Hama, I hear you want to join my family.” The boy nods quickly, squirming around, from the waist down. “Well, I’d be glad to have you in my family, but you’ll have to go through initiation first.”

“Initahahahahhhahahation?”

“Yes, initiation, everyone who joins our family has to go through initiation, it’s one of the rules.”

“Is ihihihit gohohohohohohonnaahahahahha huhuhuhuurt?”

“Oh, no,” he pulls his finger out of his belly button, his giggles quickly dying down, and reaches up to caress his cheek. “We’d _never_ hurt you.” He tilts his head and smiles at him. “Do you want to go forward with your initiation?” Hamaliel bites his lip, contemplates for a moment, he _does_ want to be a part of their family, and after a moment, he nods lightly. “Excellent,” Nisroc looks up to the Power across from him. “Abe, if you would start us off, he is _your_ charge, afterall.”

Abraxos nods, leaning forward, and Hamaliel’s eyes widen when he raises his hands, forming them in the dreaded claws, and he shakes his head fervently, scooting away from him. “Guess who’s here to see you!”

“Pahahahhaapapaahahahhahaa nohohoho! Nohohohot thehehehe clahahahhaws! Nohohohot thohohose! Thehehehey tihihiihickle! Nohohot thehehe clahahahaws!”

He goes ignored. “But, that’s not all, guess who they invited, go on, guess.” Hamaliel giggles and shrieks, shaking his head, but makes no response, he turns to look when the second oldest Power nods to the one across from him, Nisroc smiles down at him, raising his own hands, forming them into claws too. “They invited their big brothers.”

“Nohohoho! Nohohoho! Thahahahat’s mehehehhean! Thahahahat’s mehehehhean, pahahhahapapaahahahha! Nohohot mohohohore clahahahaws! Nohohot mohohohore!”

“Nis, if you would, I don’t want him to kick too hard and hurt himself.”

The oldest Power nods lightly, reaching down to wave a hand over his legs, and he tries to pull on them, he tries to move them, but they’re stuck, he can wiggle his feet, but he can’t lift his legs. “That’s not fair! Thahahat’s nohohot fahahair!”

They both turn back to him, their claws raised, and he looks between them both with wide eyes.

“I have to say, the older claw brothers are very curious about this chubby little tummy, they’ve heard so much from their little brothers. They’ve decides to come see you today, too.”

“Nohohohoo! Nohhohohoho plehehehehease!”

“Abe?”

“Yes, Nis?”

“Are the little claw brothers ready?”

“They are, are the older claw brothers ready?”

“Ready and abled.”

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

Hamaliel screams when they both start clawing at his belly, squealing with laughter, arching his back sharply, wiggling his feet around, pressing his head back against the pillow under him. “IIIIEIEIEIEIEIIEEEAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHHOHOHO THAHAHAHAHATS NOHOHOHOHOHOHO FAHAHAHAHAHAHAAIR! IIHIHIHIHIHITS NOHOHOHOOT FAAHAHAHAHHAHAAIR! EIEIEIEEEIEIEIEIIIIIIIIIEIEEIAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAA STOHHOHOHOHOHHOP! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOSE! NOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIEIEIIIIIIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAEEIEIEIIEAIAAAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA PAHAHAHAHAHHAAPAPAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NNNIIHIHIHIHIIHIHIS! STOHOHOHHOHOP IEIEIEIEIAIIAIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHHOOP! IHHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!”

They both pull away, their fingers still shaped into claws, and he heaves for a breath, giggling still, and looks between them both, his eyes widening as they hover over his tummy again, he shakes his head, eyes wide, when the fingers start to wiggle slightly. “They want more time with that chubby tummy.”

“NOHOHOHOHO! NOHHOHOHO MOHHOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHHAWS!” He squeals brightly their fingers claw back in, arching his back again. “EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAEEEIEIEIIEAIIAIIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA PLEEHHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! IIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHHHAAHAN’T! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAWS! NOHHOOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEE CLAHAHAHAHAWS! GEEHEEHEHEHHEHEET AWAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAY! GEHEHHEHEHEHEET AWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAY! EEIIEEIIEIEIAIAIAIAIAIAIAAAHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHEEEEEIEIIEIEIEIEAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAAHA PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOOREEEEEIEIEIIEIEAIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA NOHHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAWS! THEHEHEHEHEEY TIHIHIHIHICKLE! THEHEHEHEHEY TIHIHIHIHICKLE! EIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAWS TIHIHIHIHICLE! AAAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAAAEEEIIEIEIEIEIEIIAIAIIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA NOHOHHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOOHORREEEIIEIEIEIIAAIIAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAHAHHHHHAHAHAHAA! MYHYHYHYHY BEHEHEHEHHEEELLY! MYHYHYHY BEEHEHEHEHHEEELLY! EEIEEIAIIAIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAEEEEIIEIEIEIAIIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA MYHYHYHYHY BEHEHEHEELLYY HUHUHUHUHURRTTSS! EIEIEIEIAAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! MYHYHYHYHYYHY BEHEHEHEHEELLY!”

They both chuckle down at him, because they’re both mean meanies, and pull their hands away. Abraxos rubs his curls back, and he pants for a breath, giggling feverishly still. Nisroc crosses his arms over the edge of the bed and rests his chin on his arms. “Your initiation isn’t over yet, but we’ll let you have a break.”

His guardian smiles down at him, patting him on the belly lightly. “Because, we’re nice.”

“Nohhoohoho mohohohore….pleheheheease….nohoho mohohohore…”

“Well, if you want to be a part of my family, you have to go through initiation.” Nisroc sits up, resting his chin on his left hand. “Unless you _don’t_ want to be a part of my family.”

“I dohohoho! I dohoho!”

“Then, you have to go through your initiation.” He reaches up to stroke a his fingers through his curls. “You’re doing great.”

“Sohoho meehehehhean! Soohohoho mehehehean!”

“You haven’t been through one of Puri’s tickle tortures yet, have you?”

Hamaliel shakes his head, and they both smile down at him. “You think we’re mean, he’ll have you crying tears of laughter.”

“Nis, I think that’s enough of a break, shall we get back to his initiation?”

“I do believe I agree, Abe, should the claw brothers come back?”

“NO! NOHOHOHOHO!”

“I think the claw brothers should come back a bit later, how about these armpits, do they look like they need some nibbles?”

“I don’t know about nibbles, but they look like they might need some berries.”

“Maybe both?”

“Definitely both.”

“Berries first, or nibbles?”

“How about nibbles first, and then we end with berries?”

“I think that sounds like a good plan.”

The both scoot up higher, and he tilts his head back, looking between the two of them, as they sit up, curling a hand around his upper arm, and lean over, they both growl, and he shrieks, when they rush forward and bury their faces into his armpits.

“EIEIEIEIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHHOHOHOHOHO THAHAHHHAAHAHHAHAT’S WOHOHOHOHORSE! NOHOHOHOHOT NIHIHIHIHIBBLES! NOHOHOHOOT THOHOHOSE! EIEIEIEIAIIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAIIEIEIEIEIIEIEAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT NIIHIHIHIHIIBBLES! PLEHEHEHEHHEASE EEIEIEIAIIAIAIAAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA EIEIEIIEIAIIAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAIAIIAIEIEIIEIEIEIIAIEIIAIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! STOHHOOHOHHOHOHOOP STOHHOHOHOHOOP! EIEIEIEIIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NIHIHIHIHIIBBLES NIHIHIHIHIBBLES! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! STOHOHOHHOOHOP! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOORE EIEIEIIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAEIEIEIEIEIIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! PAHAHAHHAHAHAPAPAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA! NIHIHIHHIHIHIIS! NOHOHOHOHO NIIHIHIHIHIHIBBLES!” There’s a brief pause, and he pants, his eyes widening they both take a deep breath. “AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHAAA EEEEEEEEIIEIEIIEIIEEAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOT BEEHEHEHEHERRIEEEEEEEEEHEEHEHAHAHEAHHAHHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOOHOT BEHEHEHEHEHEERRRIEIEIEIEEEHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOOT BEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHIHII CAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHHHAAAKE IHIHIHIHIIT! AHAHAHAHHAAHAHAEEEEEEIEIEIIAIAIAAHAHAHHHAAHHAHAHHAHAHAA GEHEHEHEHHEET OHOHHHOHHOHOHHOUT! GEHEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHHOHHOOUT! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEERE! EEEEEEEEAIAIAIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAA NOHOHOHOHOT BEHEHEHEHEHEHEERRIES! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE AHAHAHHAARMPITS! EIEIEIEEEEEEEEEEIEIEIAIIAAIAAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Time for the claw brothers to come back?”

“I think it’s time for the claw brothers to come back.”

Hamaliel screams, sucking in his tummy, as best as he can as he squeals and cackles, when ten fingers claw back into his belly, he throws his head back, cackling madly, his belly shakes with his laughter, and they’re relentless, they’re both big mean meanies, he’s going to die, he knows he is, they’re going to tickle him to death. “EEEEEEEIEIEIEAIAIEAIIAAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAEEEEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHHHOOO MOHOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAWS! EEEEEIEIIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAIIAIAAIAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIIT! TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLES! TIIIIHIHIHICIHIHIHICKLES! AAAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAEEEHEIEIEIEIHEAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA MYHYHYHYHY BEHEHEHEELLY! MYHYHYHY BEHEHEHEHEHEELLY! AAAAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHHEHEHEEEEIEIEIEIEIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHHAWS! NOHHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! THEHEHEHEEY TIHIHIIHICKLE SOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHHAHAHAAD! THEHEHEHEHEY TIHIHIHICKLE! EEIEIEIEIEAAIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAHHAA MYHYHYHY BEHEHHEELLY HUHUHUHUHURTS! MEHEHEHEHHEERCY MEEHEHEHHEHEERCY! PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE! EIEIEIEIAIAIAAAIAIAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE!”

“Oh, Abe, his belly hurts.”

“We should really help him feel better.”

“I think we should too.”

Hamaliel screams when they sit up, take a deep breath in unison, and bury their faces into his tummy, wiggling his feet, his toes spread and clench, his curls his fingers into fists, flexing his fingers wildly, as he squeals and cackles, as they blow berries all over his tummy, in complete unison, one right after another. He’s laughing too hard to form coherent words, all he can do is clench his eyes shut and cackle madly, screaming and squealing with laughter. The claws return and he chokes on a cackle, skipping a beat, as their fingers wiggle and vibrate on both sides of his belly, and he turns, pressing his face into the side of his arm, his mouth wide open as he cackles and squeals, and then it all stops, and he pants, laughing harshly, his belly tingles after their mean attack, and it makes him giggle hard.

Nisroc and Abraxos lean against the sides of the bed, smiling down at the mess they’ve created, admittedly, now they’re just being mean, he’s the baby of their family, he has to get used to it, it’s just going to be his life now. Lots of tickles and squeals and giggles and laughter. Especially on that adorable tummy, it needs all the love it can get, all the tickles it can get.

The youth slowly gets his breathing under control, his panting slowly dying down, and he manages to swallow his giggles, somewhat. “Nohoho more!”

“Sorry, little guy, but your initiation isn’t quite done yet.” His guardian smiles down at him, brushing his curls back out of his eyes. “Not everyone can pass, but I believe in you.”

“Whahahat i—if I dohohon’t pass?” He feels fear settle in his giggly belly. “Wihihill y—you get rihihid of m—me?”

“Oh, heavens no, you’re stuck with me, little one, me and all my tickles.”

He blinks. “Whahat happens to thohohose who can’t p—pass?”

“They go through initiation another time, later, but they go through it again, until they pass.”

Nisroc smiles faintly. “Took Raha three times. I think he’s still nervous to be left in a room alone with us.”

“He should be, sarcastic little shit, always making jokes about death, he deserves it _every_ single time.”

Hamaliel looks between them. “H—How do you pass?”

“You pass when we’re done.”

“T—Then why did it take Raha so many times to pass.”

Nisroc makes a face. “Because, he’s a sarcastic little shit, and he needs to be taught his place.” He pats his tummy. “Does your belly still hurt?” Hamaliel smiles and shakes his head. “Good. I think that’s enough of a break, what say you, Abe?”

“I think he’s had enough.”

“Good, good, there was a spot you were telling me about?”

“Oh, yes, my special spot.”

“Care to show me?”

“Why, I’d be happy to.”

The youth’s eyes widen almost comically, when he feels his guardians hand slipping under him, and he screeches, when a finger wiggles sharply in his _worst_ spot, he arches his back, clenching up, cackling and screaming, and falls back down, bouncing in place.

Nisroc smiles. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Oh, it is, it’s right in the inner undercurve of the cheek.” Abraxos smiles at him lightly. “Why don’t you give it a try, too.”

“I think I will.”

Hamaliel screeches when he feels the Captain’s hand slide under him, lifting himself up again, throwing his head back as his loud cackles fall silent, he feels the finger wiggle in sharply and he chokes on a silent cackle, arching his back sharply, bouncing over the bed.

“I think we’ve broken him.”

He feels the warm grace lift off his arms and legs, and he jumps, throwing his legs and arms around, pushing himself up, trying to get away from those two fingers, but they follow him. Hands curl around his thighs, pushing him back down, and those fingers wiggle in deeply.

“EEEEEEEEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAIAIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA NOHHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO GEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHHOHOHOHOUT GEHEEHEHEHEHEHET THEHEHEHEHEHEEM OHOHOHOHOHOUT! EEEEEEEEEEEEEIEIEIIIEIIAAIAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! I’M DYHYHYHYHYING! AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA IIHIHIHIHIHIHII CAHAHAHAHAHAAAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIT ANYHYHYHYHYHYMOREEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEE! EEEEEEEEEEIEIIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”

“Oh, there it is.”

“That’s a relief, I thought we broke him. People would have accused me of being a bad guardian.”

They move their hands, letting go of his thighs, Nisroc laughs softly when the boy squirms over the side of his guardian’s bed, tumbling down, and he catches him before he can hit the floor, the boy hangs limply in his arms, giggling and panting deliriously. He sits up, setting him back on the bed, Abraxos chuckles softly, rising, his knees pop as he does, and sits on the edge of the bed. The boy shrieks when he touches his hand to his belly, and curls up slightly, but he unwinds when he feels him rubbing, no sneak attacks. “I think he’s passed, Nis.”

“Indeed.” He pushes himself to his feet, his knees pop in turn, and he groans softly as he stretches, cracking his back. “I think he’s passed, too.” He sits on the other side of the bed, brushing the boy’s curls from his eyes, wiping up a tear with his thumb. “Aw, Abe, we made him cry.”

“We sure did.”

He smiles, stroking the boy’s warm cheek lightly. “Welcome to the family, little one.”


	222. A Whole Hour (Thaddeus & Abner)

“You gave me your word, Abner.” Thaddeus kicks his legs, sitting on the edge of the table the younger angel is strapped down on, and looks over at him, he smiles at the younger angel’s smile, he can’t help it, every smile is contagious. “One day, at my request, one day of no sarcasm, and you broke your vow.”

“Taddy! Taddy, please! It won’t happen again!”

“Remember what I said, if you broke your vow, remember what I said?”

Abner shakes his head. “Taddy , please, I’m sorry! Not that! Not a whole hour! I’ll die! Please, Taddy, another chance, give me another chance!”

“I don’t think you deserve a second chance. Always with the sarcasm with you,” he shakes his head. “ _Always_. No, I think you need a reminder of what happens when you give someone your word, and don’t keep it. I’ll give you breaks, I won’t be mean, not too mean, anyway, but you earned this, you have no on to blame but yourself.”

“Taddy, no! No! Please! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” The Warden reaches back for the feather sticking out of the bun on the back of his head, pulling it out, he reaches out with it to hover over the younger angel’s belly button. “Anything, Abner?”

“Yes! Yes!” He sucks in his belly, trying to get away from that torturous feather, as far away as he can. “I’ll do anything!”

“I want you to laugh, maybe suffer a little, like I’ve had to suffer with your unending sarcasm, squeal if you want, you can even shriek, screech, I don’t care.” The Warden dips the tip of the feather into the younger angel’s belly button. “I want to drive you crazy, as you’ve driven me, I’m going to do anything I please to break you, to make you _learn_ that when you give me your word, I expect you to honor your vow. I’ve cleared my afternoon, I know when this is over you’ll need someone to look after you, and I’ll be there, you come up and I’ll help you change into some nice comfortable night clothes, and we’ll take a nice long nap, have some yummy supper, and spend the rest of the evening and night together, because you’ll be a pile of angelic goo, so I’ll be there, but until then,” he checks the watch on his wrist. “You’ve got one _whole_ hour _,_ starting…..” He waits for the little hand to meet at the twelve, and nods, twisting the feather between his thumb and index finger, the younger angel squealing softly as he does. “ _Now_.”

Abner squeals softly, giggles exploding out of him, trying to suck in his belly, a rather difficult task given how much he’s giggling. “Tahahahahaddy! Nohohohoho! Nohohohoho! Gehehehheet ihihihit ohhohohohout! Eeieieieaiaiaaahahahahhahahahahaa plehehehheease! Aaahahahahhahahahaaa eieieiaiiaiaaaahahahahahahaha! Gehehehehet ihihihihit ohohohout! Geehehehhehet ihihihit ohhohout! Plehehehehease! Eeieeiieiaeaiaaahahahhaahahahhahaa! Mehehehheercy! Mehehehheercy fohohohor yohhohour bahahhahaaby brohohohother! Tahahahhaddy! Eieieiieaiaaaahahhahahahahahaha!”

“Absolutely _no_ mercy for my baby brother, absolutely none.” He flicks the feather around his belly button, seeming to relish in the squeals and giggles it produces. “You know what I _love_ about you, Alligator?” He smiles down at him. “I don’t have to strain myself, nor try too hard, to get you going, you’re just so darn ticklish, I could just sit here and twirl this feather in your belly button and you’d be an absolute mess by the time we were done. You’ve still got,” he checks his watch again. “Fifty-nine minutes.”

“Ihihihihits ohhohohohonly beheheheheen ahahahhaha mihihihinute!”

“Only a minute. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to enjoy this _very_ much.”

Abner shakes his head, giggling steady highpitched giggles, arching his back when the feather dips back into his belly button. He hates Thaddy, he hates him so much, he’s the worst big brother (he’s the best, he doesn’t hate him, he loves him so much, just as much as Thaddy loves him). He sucks in a greedy breath when the feather is pulled back, and his older brother hops off the side of the table, turning around to face him, setting the feather down where he’d just been seated. “I want to get you squealing, and I mean _really_ squealing, so I have to get my hands on you.” He leans over him, posing his fingers over his bare belly, and Abner watches his hands-on bated breath. “Let’s get to work.” He claws his fingers in suddenly, viciously, vibrating and wiggling his fingers all around, and the younger angel squeals loud and bright, arching his back, bucking in his restraints.

“EEIEIEIEIIAIAIAIAAAAAAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOO! TAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAADDYYYY NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHHOOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAAT! EEIEIEIEEEEAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA NAAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA! IHIHIHHIHIHI CAHAHAHHAAN’T STAHAHAHHAHAAND THOHOHOHOSE! EEIEIEEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOSSEEEIEIEIEIEIAIAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! EEIEIEIEEEEAAAIAAIIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! THOHOHOOSE AHAHAHAHARE MEHEHEHEHEHEAN! EEEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEAEEAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAA ANAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!”

“They’re really mean, aren’t they?” He claws his fingers down to his lower belly, and Abner squeals again, shimmying his waist from side to side. “I happen to love the claws, they’re the best, they get everyone squealing in no time.” The older angel smiles down at him. “Coochie, coochie, coo, baby brother, does thIS tickle?”

“EEEEEIEIEIIEIIAIIAIAIAAAAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA YEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEEIEIEIEIIEIAIAIAIAAIAAAEEAEEHEHEHEHEHEES! YEHEHEHEHHEHEHES! AAHAHAHHAHHAHAAHHAHAHEHHEHEHEEIEIEIEIIEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHA! THEHEEHEHEHHEEY TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLE! THEHEHEHHEEEY TIHIHIHIHIHICKE! EEIEIEIEAAIAIAIAAIIAIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAAHA THEHEHEHHEEY TIHIHIIHIHICKLEEEEIEIEIIEIAIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAA! NOOHOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHAAWS PLEEHEHHEHEHHEEASE! PRREEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHETTY PLEHEHEHEHEEEAAEAEAAASE! TAHAHAHAHAHAHADDY! PLEHEHEHEHEEAAHAHAHAHHAAAHAAEEEHEHHEHEHEASE!”

“Good, I want it to tickle, you ticklish little angel you.” Thaddeus pulls his hands back, hovering just above, still wiggling his fingers over his shaking belly, teasing him, because he’s a mean cruel Warden like that. Abner looks between both hands with wide eyes, giggling wildly, his chest heaving from the ferocity of his squealing laughter. “We’ve got an hour, it’s only been three minutes, don’t worry, I’m keeping count, I’ve told a guard to come alert me when an hour has passed, there’s no fear, they’re watching the clock very closely.” He tilts over slightly, checking the watch on his wrist, smiling. “We’ve still got fifty-seven minutes.”

“Tahahahahhaaddyyy! Plehehehease! Thahahahat’s toohohohoohoo lohohohong! I wohohohon’t mahahahake ihihihihit!”

“Your hour is strictly an hour of tickle time; your breaks and my pauses doesn’t count.”

“Thahahahahat’s nohohohohot fahahahahaair! Taahahahahhaaddy thahahaat’s nohohohot fahahahair!”

“You know what else isn’t fair?” He straightens back out, Abner doesn’t spare him a glace, his focus focused completely on those wiggling torturous fingers. “Having to listen to your snark and sarcasm day in and day out. I asked you for one day, as was our deal, and you broke your vow. Now you’re getting punished for it, by the time I’m through with you, you’re always going to think twice about breaking your vows, even when you out from under my charge, I’ll keep my eyes on you, don’t think you’ll get away from me and my tickly punishments too easily.”

He dips his fingers, and the younger angel squeals softly, arching his back, right into those wiggling fingers, and he shrieks, dropping himself back down rather quickly. “I’m going to get you, alligator.” Abner shrieks softly, shaking his head, giggling harder when his fingers dip down again, they don’t touch, but it still makes him squeal softly. “I’m going to get you.” He shrieks and squeals softly, arching his back, meeting those wiggling fingers again, and he shrieks once more, throwing himself back down. “It’s going to tickle, isn’t it?” He dips his fingers again and Abner giggles harder, shrieking, trying to suck in his belly. “You _love_ the claws, don’t you, they sure love you.” The younger angel shakes his head feverishly, giggling wildly, watching his hands as though his life depended on them, and their distance from his sensitive belly. “This belly is going to get it. I know every little ticklish spot you’ve got. I know just how ticklish this belly is, I’ve done _plenty_ of research.” He dips his fingers closer. “They’re coming, they’re going to get you.” Abner shrieks and shakes his head, trying to suck in his belly, and hold it there, no easy task with his belly shaking with giggles. “They’re almost there. I’m going to get you. I’m going to get you and it’s going to tickle so much.” Thaddeus shakes his head playfully. “So, so much.”

“Tahahahhahaddy! Brehehehheak! Breheheheheak!”

“You get two more minutes of the claws before you can have your break.” He smiles down at him. “I’ve got a fun hour planned for us. I’m getting all those little ticklish spots, every single one, and I’ve got all my _‘torture’_ instruments too.”

“Scruhuhuhub bruhuhuhush? Nohohohot thahahhaat!”

“Oh, I’ve got the scrub brush, I’ve got _two_. One for each armpit and each foot.” Thaddeus winks down at him. “I’ve got two new toys too, two new instruments, I thought to myself, I thought, why not test them out on you?”

“Tahahahahahhaadddyyyyyhyhyhyhyhy!”

“But first, you get the claws.” He drops his hands, clawing his fingers back into his belly, and Abner squeals as he throws his hand back, bouncing himself from side to side. “For two minutes.”

“EEEEEIEIEIIEIAIAIIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHAHHAAGAIN EEIEIEIEIIEIAIAEIAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA! TAAHAHAHAHAHAHADDDDYYYYYEYEYEYEYYEYEAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOOT CLAHHHAHAHAHAHAHHHAAHAAWS NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOSE! NOHOHOHOHOT TWOOHOHOHOHOHOHO MIHIHIHIHINUTES! I’M GOOHOHOHOHOHOOING TOHOHOHOHO DIEHEHEHEHE! EEIEIEIAIIAIAAAIAIAIAIAAHAAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA ANNAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AEEIEIEIIEIEAIAIAIAAAIAIAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA! IIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAAAHAHAHHAHAHAAAN’T TAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT! EEIEIEIIEAAIAAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA TAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAADDYYYY! TAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAADDDYYY PLEEHEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIICKLES! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! YOHOHHHOHOHOHOHOUR BEHEHEHEHEHEEING MEEHEEHEHEHHEAN TOHOHOHOHO MEHEHEHEHHEHEEHE! YOHOHOHOHOUR BEEHEHEHEHEHHEEING MEHEHEHEHHEEEAN!”

“Aaand, that’s two minutes.” He pulls his fingers away, chuckling at the heaving giggling mess he leaves on the table, and leans against the edge of the table. “You can have your break.”

“Thahahhaank yohohou….Thahahank yohohhou….”

“You’re quite welcome.” The Warden pats his prisoner’s belly lightly, rubbing gently, before patting again. “Thirsty?”

Abner nods lightly. “Yehes. Vehery thihirsty.”

“Alright, I’ll get you some water.” Thaddeus pushes away from the edge of the table, crossing around to the bucket in the corner, scooping up a ladle full, and returns to his side, easing his head up carefully, holding the ladle to his lips, nodding for him to take a sip. He drinks the ladle completely. “Want more?”

The younger angel nods slightly. “Yes, please.”

“Okie dokie.” He fills the ladle once more, giving him another drink, and eases his head back down gently. “Another?”

“No, thank you, I’m good.”

“Good, good.” Thaddeus pats his belly again, crossing around the top edge of the table, Abner watches him, tilting his head when he opens the door to a cupboard, pulling out a pillow. He eases his head back up when he returns, sliding the pillow underneath, petting his hair back fondly, he smiles down at him. “For your head. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Taddy, I’m cold.”

“I thought so, I’m sorry, I forgot to light the fire early this morning to warm up the room before your time for punishment came.” He rubs his hair back. “I’ll get you a blanket. The room should warm up here in a bit.” Abner watches him turn away, back to the cupboard, pulling a blanket off the top shelf, shaking it out, he curls it over his top half. “Better?”

“Better.”

“Good, very good.” He strokes his fingers over the younger angel’s left hand. “Are the straps too tight?”

He shakes his head. “No, they’re okay.”

“Very good, very good, I’ll give you a few more minutes for your break.”

“Thanks, Taddy.” He smiles up at the older angel. “I love you.”

Thaddeus smiles down at him, brushing his curls back, leaning over to press his lips to his forehead. “I love you, too.” He leans against the edge of the table, scratching at the youth’s head lightly. “What do you want for supper?”

He licks his lips lightly. “Can we have chicken, potatoes, and green beans?”

“I’m sure I can scrounge that up for us.” He clicks his tongue. “I think that’s enough of a break.”

“Taaaaadddyyyyy noooooo!”

“Where to now?” He pokes a finger into his left armpit. “These armpits.” Reaches out to scratch a finger under his ear. “These ears.” He steps around the edge of the table and pats his belly. “Should I give this belly some more attention.” He squeezes at his thigh lightly. “Play a bit with these thighs.” He keeps moving down and squeezes his knee lightly. “Take these knees as my own.” And comes to stand at the foot of the table, stroking a finger over his sole. “Or these feet.” He raises his hands. “There’s so many good spots, where should I go?”

The younger angel is losing it, absolutely losing it, giggling madly, shaking his head, at the knowledge the Warden has on him, he knows every single spot, all of them, and he’s still got the majority of an hour to go, and the older angel is more then capable of breaking him.

“Nohohoo wheheheere!”

“Now, now, you knew this was coming, you’re being punished, I can’t let you go just yet, we’ve still got fifty minutes.” Thaddeus winks at him. “Let me try one of my new torture instruments.” And turns away, reaching for something on the table behind him, turning back a moment later, Abner tries to sit up, tries to lift his head as much as he can to see what he’s got, but he can’t see, so he drops his head back on the pillow. “Let’s see how this works.”

Something pressing to his sole, scratching up and down lightly, small and pointed, and he squeals, curling his toes up. “Eieieieiieaiaiaiaaahahhahahahahhahahaa gaahahahahahahhahahahahaa whahahahahahat ihihihihihis thahahahahhaat! Tahahahahahhahaaddy! Ihihihihihit tihihihihickles! Thahahahahhahaat tihihihickles! Eieieieieiaiaiaiaaahahahahahahhahahahahaehheeaaeheieieieieiaiiaaiaaahahahhahahahahahaa I cahahahahahan’t tahahahahhake iihihihihihihit! Eieieieaiaiaahahahahhahahaahahaaaaahahahahahahaaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaeieaieiieieieaiahahhahahahahahahahahaa! Whahahahahat ihihihihihis ihihihihit!”

His older brother chuckles softly, lifting his new torture device up for him to see, and his eyes widen at it, it’s such an ordinary object. “A fork.” He curls the index finger of his right hand around his big toe, pulling it back, and scratches the prongs of the fork over the underside of his toes. “See, I wanted something else, other than my beloved feather, so I experimented a bit, poor Jahoel, I almost feel bad for him, _almost_.” He shrugs. “He always says to do my worst, so I do, it’s his own fault, really.”

Abner squeals, straining against his torturers grip, to curl his toes up. He lets go after a moment, scratching the fork over his sole again, and he presses his head back against the pillow, squealing with laughter. “Eeieieieieiiaiaaiaiaaaahahahahahhahahahahahha stohohohohohohohop! Stohohohohohop! Eieieieiaiiaiaaiaaaahahhahahahahahhehaeheeeieiieieieieieieiaiiaiaaaahahahahahahahahaha I cahahahahhaan’t stahahhahahahand ihihihihit! Ihihihihit tihihihickles sohohoho bahahahhaad! Sohohohho bahahahhahaad! Eieieieiaiaiaiiaaaaiaiaiaaahahahahhahahahahahaheheaheaeieieiieieieiieaiiaaiaaahahahahahahahhahaa ahahahahhahahahahahahahaa anaaaahaahhahahahahahahhahahahaa! Tahahahahahhaaadddyyy mehehehehehercy! Plehehehehehehahahhaaahahahahhhahaa meheheheheheheercy!”

Thaddeus clicks his tongue, looking down at the foot he’s torturing, scratching the fork over the arch. “No mercy today, sorry.”

“I neheheheheheheed ahahahahahahaha brehehehehehheak! Brehehehehhheeak! Tahahahahhahaaddyy! Ihhihihihihit’s tohohohohoo muhuhuhuhuch! Ihihihihiit tihihihickles tohohohohoo muhuhuhuhuch! EEIeieiieieiiaiaiaaaiaaahahahahahahhaahahahaeeieieaieaiaaiahahahahahahahaa Iihihihihi cahahahahaan’t tahahahahhaaake ihihihihihit! Geheheheheeet ihihihihit oohohohohoohooff! Eeieiieaiaiaiaaahahahahahhahahahahhaa ihihihihit tihihihihickles sohohohoho bahahahahhahaad! Aahahahahahahahahhahhaehhehehehehheheeieieieieieiaiiaaiaaaaahahahhahahahahahaha pleheehehheheeease! Brehehehehheak!”

“You just had a break,” he scratches the for over his heel, and Abner shrieks and squeals, tossing his head from side to side, pressing it deep in the pillow. “Oh, a ticklish heel, I didn’t know about this.” And, just because he’s a cruel person, he reaches over with his other hand to wiggle his fingers over the heel of his other foot. “Hang on, hang on, I came prepared.” Abner chokes on a breath as air fights to get into his lungs, watching his older brother turn around again, slightly, and grab something off the table, and his eyes widen when he turns back around, holding it up for him to see. “ _Two_ forks.”

He throws his head back, screeching brightly, when he scratches both heels with the forks, cackling loudly. “I can’t wait to use these on our little grasshopper, oh, that’s going to be fun.” The Warden leans forward against the edge of the table, scratching up his sole slowly, then back down, back to his heel for a minute, then back up his sole, and back down again, back to his heel once more. “I can’t _believe_ I didn’t know about these heels.” He focuses completely on the heel of both feet. “I feel so ashamed of myself, that I left a prime tickle spot untickled, what kind of torturer am I, I’m going to be better from now on.” He gives him another two minutes of feet torture, humming to himself, watching him cackle hysterically, smiling slightly, before he lets up. “We’ll come back to these feet, I want to nibble on those baby toes some,” he smiles when the young prisoners eyes widen, giggling fervently, his chest heaving. “Oh, yes, some baby toe nibbles.” He wiggles his forks around. “But I’m not done with these yet, do you know where else they’re good at?”

Abner shakes his head, watching him as he slowly crosses around the table, coming to stand at his head, and folds the blanket down, revealing his armpits. “The armpits.” He scratches his forks into both armpits and Abner squeals shrilly, throwing his head back, bucking and rising from the table, his hands twisting around, fingers spreading widely, flexing wildly. “Oh, that’s nice, that’s real nice.”

“Eeeieieiieaiiaiaiaaiaaaaaaaahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahaheheheeheeeeieieieieieiieieaiiaiaaaaahahahhahahahahahahhaa nanaahahahahahahahahahahahhahahaa ihihihihit’s nohohohohot fahahhahahaair! Eieieieiieeiieaiiaiaaiaaahahahahhahahahaheheaheheeieieieieiieaiaiaaiaaahahaahhahahahaha nahahahahahhahaa hahaahhahahaha aaahahahahahhahahaha! Ihihihihihit tihihihihickles sohohohoho baahahahahhahahaad ihhihihihihit’s nohohohohot fahahahahahair! Eieieieiieaiaiaiaaahahhahahahahahahahhahahaahahaha gehehehehehehet theehehehhehehehem ohohohohohoff geeheheheheheeieieiieieieieiaiaaahahahahahhahahahahahaah thhehehehehehem ohohhohohohout ohohohohohof thehehehehehehere! Brehehehehheheak! Plehehehehehheease! Pleheheheheheheease Tahahahhahahahahaaddyyyy! Brehehehehehheaak! Eieieiieiaiiaiaaahahahahhahahahahhahaa! Myhyhyhyhy behehehehelly! Myhyhyhy beeheheheheelly huhuhuhurts! Iihihihihihi neheheheheheed ahahahahhahaa brehehehehheak!”

“One more minute, and you can have your break.” He scratches in circles, and the little alligator shrieks, shaking his head from side to side harshly. “I know you can make it another minute.”

Abner feels like he’s about to explode, explode from laughter, and that minute seems to take an eternity, but it passes, after that eternity. “You can have you break, five minutes, then we’re back to it, you’ve got forty-six minutes left.”


	223. The Last Of The Cookies (Moriah and Zander)

“I can’t believe you ate all the cookies, you little cookie monster.”

Zander giggles up at him, laying over his lap, and pats his bare belly. “They were very yummy.”

Moriah smiles down at him, poking him in the belly lightly, wiggling a finger in, making the youth giggle harder. “I wouldn’t know, you little cookie monster, I didn’t get to have any.” He curls his long fingers around the boy’s small hands, lifting his arms up over his head, Zander giggles harder, tugging at his arms, but he traps them there with his grace. “Guess what happens to the little cookie monster now?”

“I dohon’t know!”

The guardian pokes around his belly playfully, the boy giggles harder, shaking his head when his guardian reaches back and taps his legs, he can wiggle them, but other then that, he couldn’t move them, and the fingers return to poking him in the belly. “He gets a visit from the big bad tickle monster.” He wiggles his index fingers into the spots on either side of his belly button. “We have to work all that sugar from all those cookies off.”

“Abba! Nohohoho! Nohohoho tihihickle mohohhoonster! Nohohohho! Gohohoho awaahahahhahahaay tihihihiickle mohohohonster!”

“The tickles monster’s here to stay.” Moriah claws his fingers into the youth’s belly, and Zander squeals, throwing his head back. “The tickle monster’s got his claws in you.”

“EEEEEEEIEIEIEIIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHHAWS! AAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEEEAAAAEEEAAEEAAAEAAIIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA TIHIHIHIHICKLE MOHOHOHOHONSTER NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAAHAHAHHAHAWS! EEEIEEIIEIEIIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHAWS! EEIEIEIEEIEIEIAIAIIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES! BAHAHAHAHHAAD TIHIHIHICKLE MOHHOHOHOHONSTER! BAAHAHAHHAHAHAAAD! EIEIEIAIAAIAAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHHORE! EEIEIEIAIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAAIEIIEIEEIEIEIEIAIAIAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! AAAHAHAHAHAHHAABBBAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA TIHIHIHIHIHICKLE MOHOHOHOHONSTER! EEIEEIIEIAIAIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAEEAEEIEIEIEIEIIAIAAAIAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA!”

Zander giggles wildly, when the claws stop moving, but they rest on his belly. Moriah’s just being a meanie now, making him wait, and then they start up again.

“EEEEIEIIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHEEAEEAEEIEIEIEIIEAIAIAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAHAHAIR! EIEEIEIIEIAIAAIAIAAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAEEEIEIEIEIEIEIAIIAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THAHAHAHAHAT’S NOHOHOHOOT NIHIHIHIHICE! THAHAHAHHAAT’S MEHEHEHEHHEAAN TIHIHIHIHICKLE MOHOHOHOONSTER! EEIEIEIAIIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHEHEHEEIEIEIEIEIEIIEAIAAAIIAIAAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA MEHEHEHEHEHHEAN!”

Moriah chuckles above him. “I told you it was the big _bad_ tickle monster, didn’t I?”

“EEIEIEIIEAIIAAAAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEAEAHEIEIEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA YOHOHOHOHOHOU DIHIHIHIHID! AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA ANAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHHAWS! PLEEHEHEHHEHEHEHEASE! EEIEIIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAIIAAIAAIAIAIAIAAIHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHIHIIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOHORRY IHIHIHIHI AHAHAHHAHAHATE AAHAHAHHAALL THEHEHEHEHE COHOHOHOHOHOOOKIES!”

“Not just yet you aren’t, we’re not done here.” His guardian pulls his hands away from his belly, and he giggles feverishly, his belly still shaking with residual giggles. “I’m punishing you, for being such a little piggy, I _can’t_ believe you didn’t even save me _one_.”

“I wahahas gohoing to but I thohought to myhyself thahat you didn’t deserve ohohone.”

The healer chuckles, smiling down at him. “Oh, and why didn’t I deserve one?”

“Because you’re a big meanie!”

“A big meanie, huh?” Zander squeals softly when a finger wiggles in his left armpit, turning his head to the side, his fingers flexing, but that’s his only movement. “I’ve always been a fair and kind tickle monster kind of guardian. I’ve treated you well, even though you ate all the cookies last week, I haven’t wronged you.” He squeals again, jolting, when a finger wiggles in his right armpit, and he arches his back, pressing his chin to his chest. “But, if you want me to be a big meanie, so you can me one, then, I’ll be a big meanie, don’t you worry.”

The youth’s eyes widen as he lays back, lifting him up as he does, and he squeals bright and loud when a bearded face burrows into his right armpit, nibbling away softly, squealing again when he shakes his head, making sure to rub his beard in, he knows very well how tickly it is, it’s his favorite weapon against him. “EEIEIEIEIIEIEAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEEEIEIEIAIIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE NIHIHIHIHIHIBBLES! NOHHOOHOHOT AHAHAHAHARMPIHIHIHIHIT NIHIHIHIHIBBLES! NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHE BEHEHEHHEHEEEARD! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHHE BEHEHEHEHHEARD! IHIHIHIHIHIT’S TIHIHIHIHIHHICKLY! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES! AAAHAHAHAHHAAABABBAAAHAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA PLEEHEHEHHEHEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOHOO! EEIEIEIEIAIIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEEEAEAAIEIEIEIEAIEAIAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA ANAAANAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHHAAT!”

“This is me being a big meanie, that’s what you said I was, a big meanie, remember?”

“IHIHIHIHIHI TAHAHAHAHHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT BAHAHAHAHAHAHAACK! YOHOHOHOHOUR NOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHAHA BIHIHIHIHIG MEHEEHEHHEANIE! YOHOHOHOHOHOUR NOHOHOHOHOT! EIEIEIAIAAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHEHEAHEEIEIEIEIEIEAIIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA YOHOHHHOHOHOUR NOHOOHOHOHOHOT! YOHOHOHOHOUR NIHIHIHIHIHICEEEIEIEIEIEIEIEEE! SOHOHOHOHOHOOHO NIHIHIHIHICEEIEIEIAIAAIAAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAEHEEEIEIIAEAIEIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAAHAA! SOHOHOHOHO SOHOHOHO NIHIHIHIHICE! THEHEHEHEHE NIHIHIHIICEST! EEIEIEIEAAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAEEIEAIEAIEAIEAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA THEHEHEHEHHE NIHIHIHICEST!”

“Are you sorry for eating all the cookies?” He follows his question with a large raspberry, and Zander screams with laughter, cackling madly. “Are you?”

“YEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHES! SOOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHO SOHOHOHORRY! EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA SOHOHOOHOHOHO SOOHOHOHOHORRY! PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOOHOHOHOHOORE! IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAAHAHAHHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT! PLEHEEHHEHEEEEIEIEAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEASE TIHIHIHIHICKLE MOHOHOHOHONSTER! PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE!”

“Will you help me make more?”

“YEEHEHEHEHEHHEHESSS! YEHEHEHEHSHHEAHAHAHAIAIAIAIAIAIAAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHA YEHEHEHEHHES!”

Moriah laughs softly at his squealing, curling his fingers around his middle, he releases his grace, and stands, swooping the boy up with him. “The tickle monster appreciates your help, little cookie monster.”

Zander giggles wildly, curling his legs around the healers waist, hugging him around the neck. “I lohohove you tihihihickle monster!”

“The tickle monster loves you too, little cookie monster.” His guardian’s beard rubs against his cheek as he presses a kiss there. “So, very much.”

“Can we make sugar cookies?”

“Of course, will you clean the bowl?” He carries him across the living room to the adjoining kitchen, setting him to sit on the counter, patting his thighs lightly, as he reaches above his head to collect the ingredients they need from the shelf. “Cookie cutters, are we making fun sugar cookies?”

“Yea!”

“Alright,” he pulls a bowl of cookie cutters down. “Pick two.”

The boy digs through the assortment of cookie cutters, picking out a Christmas tree and a cat, holding them up to show him. “These ones!”

“Good choice.” He kisses him on the cheek as he reaches back up to put the bowl of cookie cutters back and grabs the bowl to mix the dough in. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Icing, too?”

Zander kicks his legs lightly. “Yes!”

“How about sprinkles?”

“The blue ones!”

“Alright,” he pulls the icing and blue sprinkles down, setting them on the counter with the rest of their ingredient, and holds a long wooden spoon out to the youth. “You stir.”

“I’m the best at stirring, Abba!”

Moriah chuckles softly, kissing him on the nose. “You sure are.”


	224. His Return (Thaddeus & Theo)

They all stand at the gates of their cells, looking down at the closed door at the end of the hall, then back to each other. Listening to the loud shrieks, squeals, and screams that echo down the hall, it’s faint, given that the door is closed, but still clear to be heard.

“I didn’t think _he_ could _make_ such sounds.” One calls out. “That’s….That’s so _surprising_.”

“Me neither.”

“He’s been in there for like, nearly half an hour, doing _that_ for all that time.” Another intones, gesturing towards the door with an arm, hanging outside the bars. “Thaddy’s being _really_ mean.”

“Are you saying you feel _bad_ for _him_?”

“No! _No!_ I don’t feel bad for him, he deserves the _full_ brunt of Thaddy’s wrath!” They wave their hand as though to physically bat away the accusation. “I’m just saying, Thaddy’s being really mean.”

“But, did you see his face, when they brought _him_ in?” Someone calls two cells down. “I’ve never seen that kind of expression come over Thaddy’s face before.” They all look down the hall when a particularly loud scream echoes down the hall. “It was….It made me shiver.”

“I saw it. He looked like a predator, watching his prey, as the guards dragged _him_ down to the chamber. And _he_ didn’t go quietly either, throwing insults and accusations at Thaddy, if I weren’t locked in here, why, I’d have punched him in the face.” A fist raises three cells down. “No one talks to Thaddy like that.”

A squeal rings out.

“You shouldn’t have punched him.” Someone throws down. “Thaddy would have taken you to his office and we all know what would have happened behind _that_ closed door.”

“Yea, you’re right, but I’d still have done it.”

“Well, I for one, hope he suffers.”

Another scream echoes down the hall.

“Sure sounds like he is.”

…

Thaddeus smiles at the screams echoing around the room, bright peals of high pitched laughter echoing around with them, looking down at the foot he has in his grasp, scrubbing viciously at the sole, he wanted this one to suffer, he laughs softly at the screams for someone to help, and shakes his head. “No one’s coming to help you, Theo, you’re all mine, to do whatever I please with.” He pulls the toes back and scrubs over them, another squeal echoes around them, and he smiles to himself. “I had no idea you could make such noises, Theo, it just….. It blows my mind.” He dips the brush back in the bucket, he wants the younger angel to suffer just a bit, but he doesn’t want to hurt him, the brush is drying out, he doesn’t hurt people, even people like Theo. The younger angel wheezes, heaving for a breath, giggling under his breath, squeaking when he presses the scrub brush back over his sole. He straightens, eyebrows raised, and looks at his old co-warden from over his shoulder. “Did you just _squeak_?”

Theo glares at him, biting his lip to keep from making any sounds, and he hums, scrubbing the brush over his foot a few times, and he squeals, pressing his head back against the pillow underneath. “Oh, my god.” Thaddeus pauses. “You _did_ squeak.” He smiles at him. “That’s adorable, Theo, you actually _squeaked_.”

“It was _not_ adorable.”

He hums, turning back around, looking back down at the foot he holds captive. “It _was_ adorable.” And, begins scrubbing again, a loud scream echoing around the room, bright peals of high-pitched cackles following soon after. The foot in his grasp wiggles around, the toes trying to curl up, and he gives those a good scrubbing too, just to be extra mean. He drops the scrub brush into the bucket, and tweaks at his toes, to see which one is the worst, and smiles again, when he gets to the baby toe, and the younger angel squeaks again. “Give me that baby toe.” He leans over, and Theo squeals loudly, when he starts nibbling on his baby toe. He’s completely mystified by his laughter, he’s never heard _Theo_ laugh before, let alone all the other sounds he made during their time together. It’s bright, high pitched, like that of a fledgling, he has the laughter of a fledgling, and it’s _adorable_. And, he’s surprisingly _very_ ticklish, this entire thing is full of surprises, he’d never suspected _this_ from his cold and hard old co-warden.

Maybe if he’d learned this earlier, they could have been spared that entire mess, but then, Saba wouldn’t be his co-warden now, and he’s happy he is. Perhaps him and Theo could have shared the position.

The Warden sits up, pinching at that toe playfully, as he turns around, meeting the younger angel’s bright watery eyes, savoring his bright high-pitched squeaky giggles. “So, Theo, do I still seem _weak and soft_ to you?” He scribbles his fingers over his sole when he doesn’t answer and the younger angel giggles harder. “Do I need to get the scrub brush again?”

Theo’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head frantically. “Nohohohoho! Nohohohot ahahahahahaagain! Nohohohot sohohohoft! Nohohohot wehehehheeak! Mehehehehercy! Plehehehheease Thahahahahhaaddeeheehehehheus! Mehehehehehercy! Pleheheheheease! I cahahahan’t tahahhake ahahahanymohohohore! Pleheheheheease!”

“Oh, no, we’re not done.” Thaddeus shakes his head. “I’m just giving you a short break. We’ve got a _long_ way to go. I’ve just been here at your feet the whole time, I want to get to other places, I’m going to _break_ you, Theo.” He pats the bottom of his foot softly. “Consider this my revenge for betraying me. Don’t worry,” he inclines his head slightly. “No hard feelings.”

“Pleheheheheease! Plehehehehease Thahahahahhaddeeheheheheeus! Plehehehehease! I’m sohohohohorry! I’m sohohohoho soohohohoorry! Nohohoho mohohohore! Nohohoho mohohohore, plehehehease!”

“Call me _‘Thaddy’_ , Theo, _‘Thaddeus’_ is such a mouthful.” He watches closely as the Warden crosses out from the end of the table, walking up along the side to stand beside him, and tilts his head to the side as he looks down at him. “You remind me of one of my guards.”

…

One of them snorts at the loud continuous squeals that ring down the hall. “So, what do you think he’s doing now?”

Someone in the cell next to them responds. “Claws.”

Another pipes up three cells down. “Berries.”

A scream echoes through the door. “ _Both_.”

“He _deserves_ both.”

…

Theo knew things were going to be bad when the Warden hopped up on the table, straddled his waist, and clawed his fingers into the sides of his belly, he squeals loudly, throwing his head back, bouncing from side to side as he tried to get away, anything to get away from this torture, this was worse then anything he could have ever imagined, he’d severely underestimated his boss, a mistake he vowed to never make again.

He now knew why they called the older angel Heaven’s best torturer.

The old co-warden screeches when he buries his face in his belly, his fingers still clawing in, vibrating and wiggling around viciously, and starts nibbling gently, he throws his head back against the pillow, his bright loud cackles falling silent when he takes a deep breath and blows a long and hard raspberry over his belly button, again and again, and he just cackles those silent cackles, completely limp against the table, his belly shaking as he viciously tortures him.

 _Never_ again would he call him soft and weak, _never_ , he was brutal and merciless, truly living up to the title of Heaven’s best torturer.

He belly hurts, from laughing so hard, and his cackles some out as nothing but faint squeaks every now and then, he’s beyond the point of no return.

“Did I break you?” Thaddeus finally sits up, crawling forward slightly, until he’s just above him, face to face, his hands resting on either side of his head, holding himself up. “You just went _silent_.”

His giggles are still shrilly and high pitched, his belly still tingles relentlessly, and he pants, trying to fill his lungs again. “Thahahahhahaaddy! Thahahahhahaaddy! Pleehehehehehheease! Nohohoho moohohohore! Nohohoho mohohohore, plehehehease! Myhyhy behehehelly huhuhuhurts! Nohohoho mohohhore! I caahahahhaan’t tahahahake ahahahanymooohohohohore! I cahahahaan’t tahahahhahaake iihihihihit! Thahahahahhaahaddy! Pleheheheheheease! Nohohhoho mohohohore! Mehehehehercy! Plehehehehheease! Meheheheheercy!”

The older angel smiles down. “Do you understand why they say I’m Heaven’s best torturer now?”

Theo nods frantically, trying to swallow his giggles, but he doesn’t manage to do so. “Yehehehehhes! Yehehehehhes! Yohohohou’re thehehehe beehehehehehehehest! Thehehehehe behehehhest! Nohohoohoho mohohohore! Plehehehehehease, nohohoho mohohohore! Thaahahahahhaaddy, plehehehehease!”

“I don’t know.” He giggles harder, shaking his head, and the Warden tilts his head to the side. “Are you sorry for betraying me?”

Theo nods fervently. “Soohohohohoho sohohohoorry! Sohohohooho sohohohohoho sohohohoorry! Nehehehehheever ahahahahhaagain! Nehehehheheever! I’m soohohohhohoho sohohohohoho sohohohorry! Plehehehehheease! Fohhohohorgiihihihihiive mehehehehehe! Plehehehehehhease! Nohohohoo mohohohore! Plehehehehease, nohohoho mohohohore!”

Thaddeus hums softly. “You know what I’ll do if I even _think_ you’re conspiring against me?” The younger angel shakes his head quickly. “I’ll scrub those feet for a whole _two hours_. One break. And that break doesn’t count in those two hours.”

He squeals just at the thought of it, scrunching his toes up tightly, and shakes his head, just the _thought_ of it is bad enough. He’s _never_ going to _think_ about conspiring against him, _never,_ because he doesn’t think he can _survive_ a _whole_ two hours.

“I think you need to have some rules,” Thaddeus continues. “One, you are to remain in my line of sight at _all_ times, if you have to use the restroom, you tell me, and I will wait outside the door for you. Two, you are not to touch _any_ of my prisoners. Three, you are not allowed to be _alone_ with any of my prisoners. Four, you’d better not say anything rude or derogatory about Saba, to his face or otherwise. Five, if I tell you to do something, you just _do_ it, no _arguing,_ no _objecting,_ no _anything_ , consider anything I tell you to do to be an _order_.” He stares down at him, their eyes locked, Theo stares back up at him. “And, if you _break_ any of me rules, I will bring you in here for an _hour_ of torture, do you _understand_ me?”

Theo nods fervently. “Yes! Yes, I understand! I swear! I do! I do, Thaddy!”

Thaddeus smiles down at him. “Good, I’m glad we see eye to eye.” Theo closes his eyes when he leans down, and feels a warmth spread through him when warm lips press to his forehead, a beard brushes his skin, it fills him with a warmth he’s never felt before, he likes it, he feels…..he feels _loved_ by someone, and that’s….that’s a new feeling.

His boots thunk against the stone floor as he hops off the table, crossing down to unstrap his ankles, then up above to unstrap his wrists. Thaddeus helps him sit up, just in case he gets lightheaded he says, and helps him hop down from the table. He watches him grab his tunic and boots, gesturing for him to lead the way, and he does, pulling the to the chamber open, he never wants to come back here again, he’ll be _sure_ to follow all of Thaddy’s rules.

Thaddeus turns him into his office, gesturing to the cot along the wall, and he looks up at him questioningly, the Warden smiles down at him. “You can take a nap until supper time, everyone’s always sleepy after their session.” He holds his things out to him and he takes them.

Theo feels his cheeks heat up, but he looks up at the older angel, he wants to feel that warmth again. “Will you…..Will you kiss my forehead, again?”

The older angel chuckles softly, and he looks down, he should have known, no one _really_ likes him, they just _put up_ with him. He starts when warm hands curl around his cheeks, pulling his head up, pulling him forward, and lips press to his forehead for a long moment, and he feels that warmth wash over him again, that sense of love, and he smiles at the feeling, he likes it, Thaddeus pulls him back, still cradling his cheeks in his warm hands, smiling down at him. “Sure.”

He smiles, blushing lightly. “Thanks…..Thanks, Thaddy.”

“Anytime, just ask.” He’s turned in the direction of the cot. “Go take a nap. I’ll wake you up for supper.”


	225. The First Time (Thaddeus, Damabiath, & Sidriel)

“You look scared.”

He tears his eyes off the Warden’s back to look over at the one restrained next to him, and he nodded, he was scared, very scared. They said the Warden was merciless, they said he was bad, he was torturous, he didn’t want to be tortured, he didn’t want to be hurt.

“Don’t be scared.” He blinks out of his thoughts. “Thaddy’s not a bad guy.”

“H-He’s not?”

“Oh, no,” the other shakes their head. “He’s a big softie.” He blinks when the other shrieks lightly, giggling brightly, and looks down, watching his bare foot twist and turn in the strap around his ankle, the Warden hasn’t turned around to face them yet, still writing in something before him, that he can’t see from his position, but he has reached behind him, wiggling the fingers of his left hand over his partner’s right foot. “Eehehehehehhehehehe I’m sohohohohorry! Nohohohot ahahahha sohohohoftie! Nohhohohot!”

“Watch it, mister.” Thaddeus’s voice rumbles softly, and he pulls his hand back, letting up on his partners foot, and leans over slightly as he continues writing on something, he hears a page turn over, and his writing begins anew.

“I’m Damabiath, by the way.” He looks back at his partner. “But everyone calls me Dama.”

“But..But you’re a guard.”

“Yep.”

He swallows. “I—I’m Sidriel.”

“Nice to meet you, Sidriel, I’d shake your hand but I’m a bit tied up at the moment.” He snorts softly. “Pun intended.”

“That was a horrible pun, Dama.”

“Not as horrible as your jokes, Thaddy.”

“Yea,” the Warden chuckles softly. “Keep digging yourself a deeper grave. I’ll have to pay special attention to those armpits for that.”

Dama giggles next to him and takes a deep breath, to swallow them, and turns to look at his partner. “What are you here for?”

“U—Um I attacked a guard.”

“Oh,” Dama falls silent for a moment. “You’re not going to attack me, are you?”

“No! N—No!” Sidriel shakes his head quickly, turning to look at him, his eyes wide, at the thought of losing his first and only friend in this place. “T—They came at me f—first, but n—no one believed m—me.”

“Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then.” Dama smiles at him. “If they came at you first.”

“Okay,” Thaddeus turns around, finished with whatever he was working on, and Sidriel feels his breath catch at having his attention. The Warden looks over at him, and tilts his head, frowning slightly. “You look afraid, why do you look afraid?”

Sidriel swallows thickly. “B—Because you’re going t—to hurt me.”

“Hurt you?” He shakes his head slightly. “Who said anything about hurting you?”

He blinks. “Y—You’re not going t—to hurt me?”

“No, I’m not going to hurt you, I don’t hurt any of my prisoners.” Thaddeus shakes his head slightly, leaning forward against the edge of the table, and rubs at his foot lightly, soothingly. “You’re okay, everything’s okay, take a deep breath.” Sidriel nods, taking a deep breath. “Now, let it out.” He lets his breath go. “Just relax. You’re safe here. I noticed how frightened you were when you came in yesterday, that’s why I asked Dama if he’d join you today, I didn’t want you to be alone with me if you weren’t comfortable with that.”

“R—Really?”

“Really.” The older angel nods. “If something makes you uncomfortable, or something scares you, I want you to tell me, so I can help make it better. I’m here for you, not the other way around.” He rubs massages his foot gently. “If you’re scared of the dark, I’ll get you a candle every night to light in your cell. If you’re scared to be alone, I’ll have a guard stay with you, or get you a stuffed animal to hold onto, or both, if that’s what makes you feel better. You just have to tell me if you need something, and I’ll make sure you get it.”

“I—I don’t like b—being in small con—confined s—s—spaces.”

Thaddeus nods, humming softly. “Well, unfortunately, we don’t have any bigger cells, but we can leave the gate unlocked, so if you need to step out, or open it, you can do so.”

“R—R—Really?”

“Sure, if that’s what makes you feel comfortable.” The Warden nods. “We can do that. Is there anything else you need?”

Sidriel swallows, he doesn’t want to ask for too much and make him angry, so he shakes his head quickly.

Thaddeus hums again, tilting his head. “Are you sure, you don’t seem sure, I won’t be mad, if you need something, just let me know.”

“Y—You promise you w—w—won’t be mad?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I promise I won’t be mad.”

Sidriel nods. “I—I don’t like b—being alone.”

“Okay, okay,” Thaddeus nods again. “I can get a guard to stay with you.” He shakes his partner’s foot lightly. “Dama?”

“I’ll stay with him, Thaddy.”

“Good boy.” He turns back to the prisoner. “Anything else?”

“N—Not that I can t—think of.”

“Okay, if you think of anything, just let me know.” He waits until they give a nod of acknowledgement. “Good, now, let’s begin our session.”

Sidriel gulps. “I—I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared, I promise, it’ll be okay.” Thaddeus squeezes his foot lightly. “Do you want me to show you what I’m going to do?” The little prisoner bites his lip, but nods, and the Warden smiles at him. “Okay, do you have ticklish little feet?” Sidriel seems confused by such a question, but shakes his head, quickly. “That was a mighty quick denial there, I don’t know if I believe that.” Thaddeus moves over, to stand between his feet, and he tenses when a finger presses over the top of both feet. “I think I’ll have to check for myself.” Sidriel bites his lip again, but it doesn’t stop him from giggling softly, when those fingers on his feet start stroking up and down the length of his soles. “Oh, is that a giggle I hear, I thought you said you didn’t have ticklish little feet, you’re not _lying_ to me, are you, because little liars have to be punished most severely.” His fingers stop stroking. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” He shakes his head. “No?” The Warden tilts his head. “I have to warn you, if I find out you’re lying to me, I’m going to get you for it.”

“Thaddy, I think he’s lying!” Sidriel looks over to his partner in betrayal, Dama pays him no mind, smiling down at the Warden at the end of the table. “I think he’s tellin you the _biggest_ lie!”

“Like _you_ lied to me about those armpits?”

The guard next to him giggles softly. “Yea.”

“Why don’t you tell your new friend what happens when you get caught lying to me.”

Dama smiles, turning to look over at him, Sidriel smiles too, his smile is contagious, it makes him feel a bit better, if someone’s smiling like that, surely it doesn’t hurt. “If Thaddy catches you in a lie, he’ll get the scrub brush, and scrub that spot for five minutes.” His eyes widen and Dama nods. “It’s best to just tell him, he’ll do it anyway, he’s trapping you. But if you keep denying it and he finds out for himself, it’s _so_ much worse.”

“Go ahead and tell him what happened when _you_ kept denying that those armpits were ticklish.”

Dama giggles softly. “He’ll nibble and blow berries on that spot you lied about for two minutes once he’s done scrubbing.”

“Guess what’s happening to those armpits today?”

His friend squeals softly, his head flitting around, looking back down at the Warden. “Thaddy, no!”

“Thaddy, _yes_.”

Sidriel giggles softly, looking back down at the Warden, he smiles up at him. “Want to tell me anything?”

“My feet are a little ticklish.”

“Only a _little_?”

He giggles again, nodding slightly, and fingers pat his soles lightly. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we, so you lied to me, your little feet are ticklish, even though you said they weren’t.”

The prisoner giggles quietly, nodding his head, and Thaddeus smiles up at him, at the sound of his giggles, bringing Dama in with him was a great idea. “Alright, you have to be punished now, where did I put that scrub brush?” He bends over slightly. “Here, it is.” And lifts a bucket up onto the table, between his ankles, and rolls his sleeves up. “These feet are in for a _good_ scrubbing.” He reaches into the bucket and pulls out a small scrub brush, looking down as he grabs his right foot, holding it up by his big toe. “We’ll start with this little footsie.” And begins scrubbing.

Sidriel squeals brightly, throwing his head back in the pillow underneath him, arching his back, as his foot is scrubbed viciously. _“Oh,_ that _squeal_ sounds like these feetsies are more then just a _little_ ticklish, you know what you just earned yourself?” The prisoner can only squeal, as he pulls his toes back, and gives those a good scrubbing too. “You earned yourself some berries and toe nibbles, that’s what you earned.” And he has _five_ whole minutes with the scrub brush, is that five minutes total, or five minutes on each foot.

“Five minutes on each foot.” Thaddeus looks up at him, still scrubbing away at his sole, talking as though he’s not viciously torturing his right foot with a scrub brush. “You’re projecting your thoughts.” He looks back down, pulling the toes back again, scrubbing those just as viciously. “And, two minutes of berries and toe nibbles on each footsie, too.” He smiles to himself. “Don’t you worry though, Dama gets five minutes with the scrub brush _and_ five minutes of berries and toe nibbles.”

“Thaddy, that’s not fair!”

“ _Life_ isn’t fair, Dama.” He looks up at the guard. “And, don’t think I’ve forgotten about the _extra_ torture those armpits are getting for that bad pun, you know what I’m going to do to them?” Dama shakes his head, giggling softly, a smile stretching over his face. “First, we’ll start with some nibbles and berries, then we’ll get in some scrubbing, _then_ we’re getting the fork.”

“Not the fork! Not that!”

“Oh, you’re _definitely_ getting the fork.”


	226. Making Mistakes (Thaddeus And Narcariel)

“So, I heard you punched your superior.” He looks over at the voice, watching with wide eyes as the Warden steps in, he’d heard that he liked to torture some of the prisoners, but he hadn’t expected him to come for _him_. “And, they sent you to me for punishment.” He watches as he pushes the door closed, the lock clicking in place, and turns to face him. “Is that right, Narcariel?”

“Y—Yes…” He gulps lightly. “What…What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m going to torture you, of course.” Thaddeus smiles down at him. “Everyone learns their lesson after a torture session with Thaddy.”

Narcariel gulps softly. “I—Is it bad?”

“You tell me.” He tilts his head slightly as he leans forward against the side of the table. “What do you preferred to be called?”

“N—Narca.”

“Very good,” he looks him over slightly, and his eyes come to rest on his belly for a moment, before they flit back up to his eyes. “Tell me, Narca, do you have a ticklish tummy?”

He’s not quite sure what that has to do with anything, but he feels as though it’s best to be honest, given the position he’s in, so he nods. “Yes.”

“Excellent. We’ll have to check that out, we have an hour, there’s no rush.” He watches the Warden crack his fingers lightly. “Let’s see if we can find any mystery spots.”

Narcariel watches him lean over him, tugging the hem of his trousers down slightly, and fingers hover over the skin. “How about here?” He wiggles his fingers into the soft skin, and he howls, shrieking with laughter, bucking in his binds. “Oh, this is a good spot.” He shakes his head, curling slightly, throwing his legs around as best as he can. He didn’t even _know_ he was ticklish there. His bright cackles echo around him, he hears himself begging for him to stop, and the Warden chuckles softly, he blinks when his fingers disappear, watching him cross his arms behind his back, bend over him, and his eyes widen when a pair of lips rest over that newly found spot. Narcariel screams with laughter when he blows a massive raspberry, squealing loudly when he takes another breath and blows another raspberry, then they come back to back, and he screeches, howling with laughter, pressing his head back in the pillow under him.

“We’ll have to come back to that spot.” Thaddeus pulls away, humming as he looks him over, circling a finger around his belly, leaving him giggling lightly under him. “Let’s try up here, I only know a sparse few who are ticklish here.” He tries to follow him as he crosses around the table to stand above his head, tilting his head slightly when he feels him pull his fingers down, and he giggles these high-pitched bubbly giggles when he feels him flutter his fingers over his palm. “Oh, this is adorable, your palm is ticklish.” He giggles wildly, trying to curl his fingers up, but they’re held in place with the Warden’s other hand. “I don’t usually say this to those who are sent to me to be punished, but you, you’re cute, I _hope_ you get sent back.” He lets go of his fingers, leaning over top of him, his hands disappear. “What about these ears?” He shrieks softly when two fingers scratch behind his ears, shaking his head to try and dislodge them, but they follow. “Oh, yes, they most certainly are.”

There’s a small mercy when he moves away, but it doesn’t last long, as he comes to loom over his belly. “Before we search anywhere else, I want to give this belly a good torture too, bellies need a special kind of torture.” Narcariel shakes his head quickly. “What do you mean _no_?” He claws his fingers in and the younger angel screams brightly cackles bursting from his chest, squeals filling the room, and he chuckles, clawing all over the belly under him. “No one tells Thaddy _no_. That only makes it _worse_.” He claws his fingers over the left side of his belly, and the younger angel jumps to the right, he reaches over to claw his fingers into the right, and the younger angel jumps over to the left, cackling as he bounces from side to side, those torturous fingers following him wherever he goes. “Get comfortable little guy, we’ve still got forty-five minutes.”


	227. Two For One Special (Thaddeus, Gadreel, And Abner)

Thaddeus smiles at the squealing laughter echoing around him, scratching at their heels with his forks, looking up to see their red faces, heads pressed in their pillows, eyes clenched shut, and looks back down to their feet, wiggling and twisting in their binds. Sighing softly, he leaves one foot for a moment, turning to the other, setting his second fork down, he curls his fingers around the toes and pulls them back, scratching his fork under them too, the one prison giggles breathlessly, while the other squeals loudly, toes struggling in his grasp, and he focuses his attentions under the big toe, the worst toe for the fork, cackles and squeals filling the air around them.

He carries on with that foot for a minute or two, and turns to the other, repeating the entire process again.

After another two minutes, he sighs, pausing his attack, and looks up to them. “I _really_ love you guys.” He gets nothing but giggles in response and he scratches their feet with his forks again. “You _don’t_ love me back?”

“NOHOHOHOHO IHIHIHI DOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHI LOHOHOHOHOVE YOUHUHUHUHUHU! IHIHIHIHI LOHOHOHOOVE YOOHOHOOHOHOOHOU TAHAHAHAHHAADDY!”

“MEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEE TOHOHOHOHOO! MEHEHEHEHEEHEEE TOHOHOHOHOHOOO!”

“Aww, Gaddy, Addy, I love you guys too.”

They pant for a breath as he leaves their feet, crossing around to stand above them, smiling down at them lightly. “You know, this was my _best_ idea yet, now I can get _two_ of you at the same time.” They stare up at him. “You know, I’ve always wondered, I know the both of you have ticklish armpits, but who’s are _more_ ticklish?”

Gadreel’s eyes widen when he comes to stand above him. “Let’s start with you, grasshopper.” He shakes his head feverishly, shrieking when he flutters his fingers over his armpits, arching his back sharply, tugging on his arms in their restraints, his fingers flexing wildly, shrieking with laughter. “Oh, these seem pretty ticklish.” He wiggles his index fingers in the hollows of his armpits, and he squeals brightly, cackling loudly, shaking his head, and presses his head back against his pillow. “This is interesting, okay,” he pulls away, crossing to stand above Abner. “Let me try these ones.” Abner squeals, right off, when he flutters his fingers over his armpits, and he laughs softly. “Wow, that was quite the reaction, I think I found my answer.” He looks over at Gadreel when he hears him giggling softly. “Oh, you think watching your brother get tortured is funny, huh, I’ll give you something to laugh about.” He moves his right hand, fluttering his fingers over his armpit too, both of them shrieking and squealing with laughter. “There, what do you think about that, you get some torture too.” He wiggles his index fingers in their hollows and they both squeal, cackling brightly, tossing their heads from side to side. “This is nice, I like this, it’s nice.”

Thaddeus leans forward against the edge of the table, and reaches down, digging his fingers in their ribs, and they jump, shrieking loudly, bright high-pitched laughter filling the room. “Let me get those ribs some. They seems pretty tender. Can’t leave them out.”

“TAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAADDDYHYHYHYHYHYHHYYY PLEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOOHOHOHOHOHOHHORE! EIEIEIEIAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEASE! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAA AEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAAHAHAHHHAHAAHA IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT!”

They cry at the same time, and he chuckles, leaning over between them. “What’s in it for me?” Both of them jump up, pressing a kiss to his cheeks at the same time, and he laughs softly, pinching their ribs one last time. “Aw, how can I deny that?”

The Warden unstraps Abner’s wrists first, and he sits up, curling his arms around himself, giggling softly under his breath. Then, he moves over to Gadreel, the younger angel just lays there, giggling softly, and he smiles at the sound, patting him on the belly lightly as he crosses down the length of the table, unstrapping the older Sentry’s ankles first, then the youngers. He crosses around to the little alligator’s side first, turning his back to him, he pats his shoulder. “Climb on, alligator.” Abner giggles softly, curling his arms around the older angel’s neck. Thaddeus curls his legs around his waist and walks around to the other side of the table, lifting the limp little angel up in his arms. “Come on, grasshopper, you guys are going to go take a nice nap.”

He smiles at their residual giggles, slowly fading, and kicks the door for the guard outside to push it open. He nods to them, turning the corner, carrying them upstairs. He turns around at the edge of this bed, and Abner lets go, falling backwards onto the older angel’s bed, crawling over to the other side, he climbs under the blankets, and settles down. Turning around, he lowers the other young angel onto the bed, pulling the blankets up over him. Rubbing his head tenderly for a moment, he reaches out to do the same to the other, and straightens, shaking his head fondly. “You two sleep tight, alright?”

“Okay, Taddy, love you.”

“Love you, Taddy.”

He smiles down at them. “I love you both, too.”


	228. The Wrath Of A God (Dean, Sam, Raphael, And Anubis)

“You guys are _so_ dead!” An angry voice shouts at them, and they turn to look at them, he smirks lightly. “He’s going to _kill_ you!”

“Yea, well, if he doesn’t give us Cas back, we might just kill _you_ , mutt, as an example.”

They lean forward, sneering at him. “I’d like to see you try, maggot.” He grunts when a fist collides with his face, falling back in his chair, growling under his breath. “You’re going to regret that. Your soul is mine. I lay claim to it. _You’re_ my little bitch, now.” A fist slams into his face again, and he chokes, spitting blood out of his mouth.

“Dean,” the taller hunter pulls his brother back as he reels his arm back again. “Dean, I don’t think you should do that.”

“Why the hell not!” Dean throws a hand out at their prisoner. “Did you hear the way he was talkin’ to me! He called me his bitch!”

He spits a glob of blood out of his mouth, smiling a sharp smile, canines glinting in the rooms light. “That’s because you _are_!” His head is thrown around at the sharp punch to the face. “That’s right, keep digging your grave deeper and deeper. What lives, dies, and that’s _my_ domain.”

Dean smirks at him, flexing his fingers, before curling them in another fist. “From what I hear, that douche canoe is rather attached to you, let’s see how long it takes him to find you.”

His eyes widen, and he yells, when a fist crashes into his face again.

…

Healers look up at the sound of leather sandals slapping the floor, watching the dark haired man running through them, down the aisle, skirts flowing behind him, gold pieces glinting in the light, beads and charms clanging together, they recognized the man, and they watched him in awe, it had been some time since they’d last seen an Egyptian among them.

“Archangel!” He calls out frantically, they turn to see their Archangel’s head lift from the chart he’s reading through, eyes widening at his appearance. “Thoth?”

“Archangel, they took him!” The god pants, sliding to a stop in front of the Healer. “They summoned him hours ago and he should have been back by now! They took him!”

Raphael steadies the younger man, hands curling around his shoulders, and Thoth bends slightly, to catch his breath, as if he had run all the way here from the Ancient city. “Took who, Thoth?”

“ _Anubis_! They took Anubis! We’d heard about your imprisoning your traitor, the supernatural world has rumors spreading about your relationship with each other, and those…those imbecilic _hunters_ took him! I know it, I know it was them, I know it, Archangel!” The young Egyptian man slowly gets his breathing under control and straightens up. “You have to get him back, you have to, Anubis isn’t at full power right now, we ourselves just got through our own war, he has no way of freeing himself on his own! I fear for him, Archangel, that they are harming him! You have to get him back!” He takes a deep breath. “If he tries to change forms right now, I fear the harm it could cause, he is weak, too weak, he hadn’t the chance to recover before he was taken! I fear what might happen if he feels as though he is backed into a corner, or he loses his temper, he is weak, yes, and he may come to harm if he tries to take his godly form, but the havoc he could wreck, even still, would be detrimental!” Thoth inhales again. “You _know_ Anubis’s temper, you’ve _seen_ it, he’ll play nice, as much as Anubis plays nice, and take whatever they throw at him for a while, but _when_ he has _enough_ , no matter how weak he is, he will snap, his temper will consume him, and though he be my closest friend, I fear what might happen to the world if that happens. The creatures he has at his disposal are numerous, Apep, who is at his disposal in the underworld, if he were to open the doors between the two realms and allowed the creatures within to spill out into this one….I hate to think of the carnage that could bring.”

Raphael hums, rubbing the frantic Egyptian’s shoulders lightly, to soothe him, and he sighs at the feeling, leaning forward, pressing his forehead to the Archangel’s chest. “This is a precarious position, indeed. I do know of his temper, if not kept in check, I dare say, it could be disastrous.” They both look up when the building shakes lightly, dust falling from the ceiling, an echo booming through the air, a sound everyone in their world would have heard.

The Healer sighs softly. “It appears he’s reached his breaking point.”

Thoth nods mutely. “We should go in search for him.”

…

After two hours of being abused, he reached his breaking point, rage boiled in his veins, that these _humans_ would treat a _god_ so horribly, that they thought they could _strike_ him. He felt his magic swirling in his veins, and this time, when he growled, it echoed around the room.

Sam gasped, backing up a step, when the teenager’s form began to glow a bright gold, it swirled around his body, the long golden cuffs around his wrists began to glow, his eyes brightening with them. He grew in size and height, Dean backed up, eyes wide, when the cuffs securing his arms to the chair they’d had him in snapped, he grew, as he stood, towering over them, if Sam had to guess, he’d have to say he was around twelve feet tall. His skinned shimmered, turning into a smooth silky black fur, his features taking on a more canine appearance, a snout growing, teeth long and sharp, canine teeth, glistened in the light of the room as he snarled, long pointed ears grew, unfolding from his head, golden rings curled around the outer edges. He holds a hand out, a long iron staff growing in his grasp, and they stare up at him in horror, they’d clearly never seen one of them in their godly form before.

 _“You think you can harm **me**?” _Anubis’s voice is deep, deeper then they’ve ever heard it, and it flows around the room, it echoes around the walls, he twirls the staff around, pulling it around in front of him, both hands curling around the body of the staff, and golden sparks erupt from the end when he slams it into the floor. _“You think you can take **me** prisoner?” _His golden eyes look down at them. _“You played your move, it is my turn now, I will play **mine**.” _They watch as he raises his staff slightly, above his head, eyes glowing brightly. **_“You are released. The doors of the Earth are open to you.”_** Sparks fly when he slams the staff down, the ground under them shakes, like an earthquake, and they stumble, watching as the massive deity walks between them, ducking under the doorframe as he exits.

Dean looks around when the shaking stops. “Well, that was anticlimactic. All he did was make a light show.” He turns, reaching for his gun on the table, running down the length of the table. “Come on, Sammy, we can’t lose our prisoner!”

The younger hunter seems unsure, but grabs his own gun, following after him quickly.

They both run out of the entrance of the bunker, Anubis stands before them, still twelve feet tall, staff resting in his hand, at his side, looking up at the sky.

And they come to a stop, staring up to the sky, a giant dark serpent slithers slowly through the atmosphere towards the sun, it’s large mouth hanging open, the sunset starts to grow dim, the light being devoured by darkness, it’s slow, but it’s noticeable. The ground under them starts to shake again, another earthquake, and they stumble on their feet, trying to remain standing, Anubis is unaffected before them, standing tall and straight, watching the creature slowly devour the sun, thunder brewed in the distance, storm clouds gathered above them.

“What the _hell_ is that!”

Sam stumbles over. “I’ve read about him, that’s Apophis, the great serpent, the enemy of light, he’s the god of chaos, earthquakes, thunder, and storms are associated with him.”

Dean turns to look at him, as he stumbles, falling to the side. “What the _hell_!”

His brother nods. “He resides in the underworld. Anubis must have released him. There are other creatures in the underworld, creatures and demons, he must have released those too.”

 _“_ Anubis _.”_ They look over at the voice, Dean recognizes him, Raphael was here. “That’s enough _.”_ The jackal deity turns his head at the voice calling his name, growling deeply, it echoes around the field. _“_ Send them back _.”_

Anubis growls, throwing his staff around as he turns to face the Archangel, snarling in rage. _“No. Let him swallow the sun. This is my vengeance. You will not take that from me.”_

Sam watches the Archangel wag a finger at the deity. “Come here, I want to tell you something _.”_ He watches in amazement as the jackal deity growls, but steps forward, coming to stand before the smaller being. “Lower yourself, I can’t very well tell you from all the way down here, now can I.” The god of death lowers himself to sit on his knees, setting his staff down at his side, leaning in close. The hunter’s eyes widen when the Archangel reels his arm back, and smacks the enormous jackal god’s snout harshly, he _hears_ the crack of the impact, Anubis whines, leaning back, pressing a large hand to his snout, the Archangel points a finger in his face. “Send them back, _now_.” He growls looming over the smaller being, Raphael raises his hand again, and he whines again, sitting back. “ _Now,_ Anubis.”

Anubis whines softly, bowing his massive head, and reaches for his staff, rising to his feet, he clutches his staff in both hands, gold swirls around him, he raises his staff above his head, and slams it into the ground. The same echoing boom flows around them, and suddenly the sunset it right again, he looks back to the Archangel below him, and he points to the spot next to him. “Sit.” The massive deity nods, turning around, lowering himself to sit at the Archangel’s side, resting his staff against his shoulder, between his legs. “Did they hurt you, puppy?” The massive deity nods, whimpering softly, curling a large hand around it’s snout. “Is that where they hurt you?” He nods again, whining softly, and the Archangel waves a hand at him. “Come here, little one.” The god leans in close, and the Healer reaches up, scratching his hand behind one of the large ears. “We’ll get you all patched up again, can you change forms?” The Jackal deity shrugs. “Can you try for me?”

He nods, turning his head slightly, not wanting the scratching to stop, and throws his staff. It shimmers and fades, the long cuffs around his wrists glow brightly, the gold swirls around his body for a moment, and then it fades, and in it’s wake sits Anubis, in his humanoid form, long ears still, but that was normal.

Raphael smiles down at him, holding his hand out, small tan hands curl around his, and he hefts him up to his feet. “Good boy.”

“Raph, I’m not a _dog_!”

“No, you’re a puppy.”

The godling groans dramatically, and falls forward into the Archangel’s side limply, the Healer chuckles lightly, curling an arm around his waist.

Raphael turns his attention to the two hunters. “You’re welcome.”


	229. The Gift Of Laughter (Abraxos, Puriel, & Hamaliel)

“This isn’t faaair!” The boy whines, squirming under them both, looking first up at his papa, then down at his older brother. “Let me gooo!”

“I can’t, I’m sorry, this is my Christmas gift, Hama.”

Hamaliel stares at his older brother. “What?”

Puriel smiles at him, laying over his legs, and nods his head lightly. “Yes, I asked papa for a chubby little belly to torture for Christmas.”

He looks up at him, and Abraxos smiles down at him, holding his arms above his head in a gentle grip, nodding slightly. “I chose you.”

“Whyyy!”

He reaches down, poking him on the nose. “Because, your chubby little belly is the cutest, and I get my boys nothing but the best.”

Hamaliel whines again. “I dooon’t waaant to beeee your giiiift!”

Puriel makes a face. “You mean, you don’t want to make me happy, after everything I’ve done for you, you don’t want to give me an ounce of kindness in return, I thought we were brothers, Hama, I guess I was wrong.”

Abraxos kicks him lightly when he sees tears gather in his young charge’s eyes. “Puriel, that wasn’t nice, he really loves you, and you’re going to make him cry.”

“Oh, baby brother,” the medic curls his fingers around his sides and leans in to press a kiss to his belly. “I’m just messing with you, I’m always going to be your big brother, we’re always going to be brothers.”

The boy blinks back a tear, but it still leaks out, and his papa catches it with his finger. “P—Promise?”

“I swear.” He presses another kiss to his belly. “Cross my heart.” He smiles at him. “I think this is the perfect time to give you _my_ gift.”

Hamaliel sniffles softly. “What is it?”

“The gift of laughter.”

He blinks. “Is that _all_ you got me?”

“No, that’s not _all_ I got you.” The Power shakes his head. “But it is my favorite gift.” He smiles up at him. “Let me give it to you.”

Hamaliel’s eyes widen when he presses his face into his belly, squealing brightly when he takes a deep breath and blows a vicious raspberry, squealing and laughing as he bounces all over his belly, blowing mean raspberries everywhere he can. He tugs on his arms, and hears papa chuckle softly, and kicks his legs, squealing when his big brother buries his face in his right side and blows another mean raspberry, he tries to arch to the other side, but he’s met by wiggling fingers and he jumps back into another mean raspberry.

“PUHUHUHUHUUHURRIIRIIIIIHIHIIHIHIHIHIHIHIIHIHHIHI IEIEIEIEIIEIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO EIEIEIEEIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHHOT BEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHERRIES! EEEIEIEIAIIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! EIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA EEIIEIEAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA BIHIHIHIHIHIHIG BROHOHOHOHOTTHER! EEIEIEIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”

Puriel pulls away, chuckling softly, clawing his fingers into his belly, and he screeches, arching his back, shaking his head wildly.

“AEEEEEEEEEEAEAAAAAAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAT NOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHAHAHAHHAHAWS NOHOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! EEIEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA IAAIAIAIIAAIAAIHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA ANAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOO CLAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAWS! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHAHAHAHHHAHHAAHHAHAHAAAWS! EEIEIEIEIAIAIIAAAAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHHAHAHHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHHIHIHIT! EIEIEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAANYTHIHIHIHIHIHING! IIHIHIHIHIHIHII’LL DOHOHOHOHOHO AHAHAHAHHAHAANYTHHIHIHIHIHIHING!”

He pauses his attack. “Anything?”

Hamaliel pants, nodding down at him fervently. “Anything!”

“Tell me I’m your favorite big brother.”

He giggles softly. “You’re my most favorite big brother.”

“I knew it!” The youngling giggles harder when his older brother pushes himself up high, pressing a kiss to his cheek, resting their foreheads together. “You’re my favorite baby brother.”

Hamaliel giggles. “I knew that, already.”

Puriel chuckles softly, curling his arms around him, as he rolls them over Abraxos’ leg, Hamaliel sits up, resting his elbows on the medic’s chest. “What else did you get me?”

Both Powers chuckle softly, and the medic pokes him on the nose. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Their young one giggles, pushing himself up higher, turning to his papa. “Papa, come here for a second.” Abraxos leans over, smiling when he feels the boy press a kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, papa.”

He presses a kiss to his cheek in return. “Thanks, hummingbird.”


	230. Filthy Egyptian (Raphael & Anubis)

“Anubis.” Michael’s surprise is evident when the young Egyptian walks through their door. “What happened to you?” It was a logical question, there was a rather large bruise painted on the left side of the youth’s face, a pair of stitches running through his right eyebrow. “Where have you been, it’s been some time since we’ve seen you here.”

The god smiles slightly, it’s a pained smile, but he hides it well. “War does that to you.”

“War?”

Anubis nods lightly. “We’ve been at war with the Greeks for the last two years.” He sighs softly. “So many innocents guided through the gates.” His gaze travels over the others at the table, he spots three new faces, his gaze moves on, he’s in no mood to introduce himself, Lucifer smiles at him lightly, Gabriel waves a few fingers, and his gaze returns to the oldest. “Where is Raphael?”

The first-born nods to the hall. “He’s still sleeping.”

The Egyptian nods, turning for the hall, there’s a noticeable limp in his step as he makes his leave, and they watch him until he disappears around the corner. Michael turns to look at him brothers. “Have you heard anything of the sort?”

Lucifer shakes his head, and they both turn to Gabriel, out of them all, the Messenger spent more time in the ancient cities then they did. He shakes his head, though, and shares their frown, they hadn’t known of a war between the two-ancient pantheon’s.

“Umm….Not to interrupt this moment.” They turn to look at Iaoth, and he stares back, confusion written on his features, the other two sharing his expression. “Anubis, as in, the Egyptian god, that Anubis?”

Gabriel snort softly. “Know anyone else named Anubis, kiddo?”

Adonai tilts his head. “What’s he want with Raph?”

Lucifer rubs at his cheek lightly. “They’re good friends, brothers, even, Anubis used to come around quite often, until he just stopped.”

“Please Luci,” Gabriel shakes his head. “Raph’s practically adopted the little godling as his own. He’s the only one Anubis truly listens to. They’re more than just _brothers_.”

Tagas swallows his mouthful of food. “How’d they meet?”

Michael smiles lightly, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “Well, it all started with our siege on Egypt—”

…

He pushes the door to the thirdborn’s room open, looking in, it’s as neat and tidy as he remembers it, in a messy kind of way. There’s a mound under the blankets, rising and falling softly with every breath, he tries not to make a sound as he limps into the room, closing the door behind him silently, and limps across the room to the bed side.

Raphael’s laying on his back, facing away from him, his left arm stretched across the length of the bed, fingers curled slightly, lax in sleep.

Anubis doesn’t want to wake him, he looks so peaceful, he contemplates turning back, but his ankle hurts, and it looks so inviting. His long ears twitch lightly, and he leans forward carefully, bracing himself with his hands, he crawls up on the bed with his closest friend. He’s careful not to make too much movement, he missed Raphael, he missed coming to see him, being at his side, being with him, it had been so long, two years, that’s too long. He’s careful not to jostle him as he settles down beside him, resting on his outstretched arm, his nose pressed to his ribs, he feels the muscles under his head constrict, and he closes his eyes.

His ear twitches when fingers curl around the outer edge, and he hears the man next to him inhale deeply, he moves slightly. “Mmm….Anu..?” He nods lightly, raising a tan hand up over his chest, his fingers curling in his nightshirt tightly, and the body next to him shifts, turning towards him, tucking him in against their chest, and he presses his ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat, and his voice rumbles in his ear. “Where have you been?”

“War.”

“War?” he hears the concern in his friends soft deep tone. “With whom?”

He closes his eyes again. “The Greeks.”

Fingers stroke at the back of his left ear. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve been patched up.”

The chest he’s resting against rumbles as he hums. “That’s not what I asked.” The silence is the only answer he needs. “I’ll look you over when we get up for the day.”

“Okay, baba.”

…

_“Filthy Egyptian!”_

His eyes widen when he hears it, clearly intended to be an insult, and he turns, Egyptians are prideful, they’re proud, they _don’t_ take well to being insulted. “Tagas come, we’ll finish this lesson in a moment.” The youngling nods, running to keep up with him as he jogs down the aisle, from the very front of the Infirmary, to where the insult had originated, at the far back. Oren’s pulling Iaoth back as the Egyptian glows, fists clenched tightly, magic swirling around him, and he comes to stand beside his Captain, watching the god change forms fluidly, the healer who had insulted him laying before him on the floor.

Iaoth curses, and he didn’t have the time to scold him for it, Tagas makes a sound of shock at his side.

The Egyptian grew in size, standing nearly twelve feet tall, skin fading into dark silky fur, fingers growing in length, looking something akin to claws, his features taking on a more animalistic appearance, a snout growing as his facial features grow more canine, long sharp teeth bared at the offending healer under him. His skirts grew with him, the chest piece he wore expanded and grew, an iron staff appearing in his outstretched hand, golden magic flowed through his skin like blood does through the veins.

Raphael rushes forward when the massive deity bends, clawed hand reaching out for the healer who had insulted him, and he blocks him, standing between the two of them. “Anubis, _no_.”

The Jackal deity growls lowly, pulling his hand back, and he looks over at it for a moment, he’s making as though to swat him out of his way, and he turns back, eyes hard this time, and raises his arm, pointing a finger in the god’s face. _“Don’t you dare.”_

He looms over him, golden eyes blazing in fury, and bares his canines as he snarls.

The Archangel reels his arm back and smacks him harshly on the snout, the jackal deity blinks, whining when he raises his hand again, shying back. “Anubis, _sit_.” The massive deity falls back, laying his staff down next to him, crossing his legs before him. “What have I told you about losing your temper?” He steps forward, hands on his hips, and the deity curls inwards, averting his golden eyes, whining like a scolded puppy. “You know better, baba is very disappointed in you, baba is _very_ cross with you.” The Egyptian whines again, bowing his head, and if a jackal could pout, this one would be. “You’re in _big_ trouble.” The long sleek ear lower, and the massive jackal god whines again, leaning over. “No, you get no ear scratches.” He points to the floor before him. “Change.”

Gold swirls around the massive deity, and when it fades, in it’s place, is a large jackal, smaller then the other form, something akin to the size of a wolf. It whines, crawling down on it belly, ears flat against it’s head, licking at his toes lightly. “No, don’t think being this way is going to get you out of trouble.”

Raphael turns to the healer on the floor. “Pravial, come apologize.”

The healer nods, scrambling to her feet, hiding behind his arm, peeking around at the chastised jackal laying before them. “I’m sorry.”

“Good, now go about your duties.”

She nods, darting away, and he returns his gaze down to the jackal, golden eyes look up at him, and it sits up, pawing at the ground, and he shakes his head. “No.” The jackal whines again, standing, pawing at the ground again. “No, Anubis.” It whines again, and jumps up, paws resting against his stomach, stretching up to lick his chin, he makes a face at the warm tongue lapping over his face, and turns his head, squatting. “Alright, alright, baba forgives you.” He rubs the jackals ears back, cradling it’s head in his hands, and presses a kiss to it’s snout. “I’ll scratch your ears later, I’ve still got work to do, your palm tree is in my office under my desk, you left it here the last time you came, why don’t you go get it and come stay out here with me while I go through Tagas’s lesson.”

The jackal barks, licking him on the face again, and he chuckles, pushing it away. “Yes, yes, I love you too, go on and get your palm tree.” He watches the dark furred hound trot away and stands, returning to the others sides.

“That was fu—” He shoots the youngling a look and Iaoth quickly amends. “Freaking crazy!”

“Here’s a lesson for you, _never_ insult an Egyptian.”


	231. Better Work Quick (Raphael, Zed, & Zaveriel)

He sat by his master’s bedside, leaning back in his chair, legs stretched, ankles crossed, his feet resting on the side of the bed, his left foot brushed lightly against the Healer’s hand. This hadn’t supposed to happen, his Archangel could hold it with the best of them, but he hadn’t supposed to have been at the front line, he wasn’t supposed to be withing firing range.

An arrow.

An arrow to the chest.

That was all it took. The arrowhead coated in an unknown poison, something of which Zed was working on an antidote for, he’d need to experiment before he could administer the correct batch to their unconscious Archangel, and he wouldn’t experiment on their Archangel, in the event that one of his concoctions had adverse effects with the poison currently rushing through his veins, and if he didn’t have anyone to experiment on, then they’d never really find a cure.

Raphael wasn’t supposed to look like he was _dead._

He rubs at his nose lightly, he’d been crying, Raphael was _all_ he had, sure, he had the other Virtues, but he wouldn’t have them if it hadn’t been for Raphael, him accepting his request to rejoin his flock, he’d have been factionless if he hadn’t, he owed him _everything_. He turns, peering over his shoulder, eyes searching for his older brothers.

There’s Akriel, sitting at his desk, leaning over as he fills out the charts for the new patients he’d taken in today.

There’s Oren and Ephraim, in the back, folding blankets and clothes, restocking their supplies.

He knows Constantine is upstairs sleeping.

Zed’s out in his garden picking more herbs and such for his inventory before he can begin working on an antidote.

He turns back around, looking down at his Archangel’s peaceful face, and huffs, nodding to himself, pulling his legs in, he rests his bare feet on the stone floor, and stands. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to his Archangel’s forehead, hovering just above him, _I wonder if he knows I’m here._ “Forgive me.” He whispers.

Then, he stands, turning around, walking slowly and quietly to Zed’s workstation, trying not to draw attention to himself, Zed _needed_ someone to experiment on. He _needed_ someone.

The arrow rests on a piece of leather, the shaft still attached, the arrowhead glistening with the unknown poison that had taken down their Archangel in one foul swoop. _What if I die?_ He nods firmly, if it meant Raph would be okay, then that’s all that mattered. _It’s worth it_. He reaches out for the arrow, his small slim fingers curl around the shaft, and he pulls it in.

“Zaves!” The youngest Virtues head shoots up at the sound of his name, there’s Zed, standing in the doorway behind his workstation, staring at him with wide eyes. “What are you _doing_!”

“You need someone to experiment on.” Zaveriel curls his fingers around the shaft tighter. “Do me a favor, if I die, make sure the fox cub I have in my room gets a good new home.” He looks back down at the arrow. “Work fast.” And jams it into his chest.

 _“Zaves!”_ He knows it’s Zed shouting his name, at least, he assumes he’s shouting, everything sounds so muffled, it’s like he’s got water rushing in his ears, he feels cold. Is that the poison rushing through him, is that why he feels cold, or is that him dying, he doesn’t want to die, but if his dying brought Raph back, he die a thousand times. _“Zaves, can you hear me!”_ He feels himself fall, someone catches him, someone enters his blurry vision, he can make out the signs of a beard, he doesn’t know who it could be, Akriel _and_ Oren had beards, they were sadistic bastards, they _enjoyed_ pining him down and rubbing their beards all over his belly, because they _knew_ he couldn’t stand it. _“Zaves, Zaves don’t close your eyes! Zaves!”_

He tries, he really does, but it doesn’t stop his world from fading into darkness.

…

_“Zaveriel?” Someone’s calling his name, who is it, that voice sounds familiar. “Zaveriel, open your eyes.” It’s a hard task to complete, but he does slowly, above him is a pair of emerald green eyes. “Zaves, what did you do?”_

_“I—I poisoned myself.”_

_“What!” His Archangel exclaims, and he nods, making to sit up, it’s dizzying at first, and he presses a hand to his head._

_A large hand rests on top of his head lightly, steadying him, and he nods slightly, turning around in the bed he’s in, he doesn’t know when he was placed on a bed, when he looks up, his eyes go wide, staring at his Archangel’s prone form. Jumping up, he stumbles from the motion, and turns around to face him. “H—How are you t—there but still,” he points to the bed. “There!”_

_“I’m dying, Zaves.”_

_He stares, simply stares. “What!”_

_“I’m dying, it’s a slow-moving poison, but when it finally reaches my heart, I’m going to die.”_

_“You can’t die!”_

_Raphael chuckles softly. “I don’t believe I have a say in that decision.”_

_“But, Zed’s working on an antidote!”_

_The Healer nods. “I know he is. I can feel it, running through my veins, slowly, inching closer to my heart. He may not have enough time.”_

_“You can’t die!” Zaveriel jumps forward, curling himself around the Archangel’s front, pressing his face into his chest. “You’re all I have!”_

_Arms curl around him in return, he hears his Archangel’s deep voice rumble under his ear. “Now, that’s not true, you have your brothers.”_

_“But, I wouldn’t have them if it wasn’t for you!” He exclaims. “You’re the one that gave me a new home! It’s not home without you! You can’t die, Raph! You can’t!”_

_A large hand rubs down the back of his head. “I don’t want to, Zaves, but sometimes one doesn’t get to make that decision.”_

_“Don’t leave me, papa, please don’t leave me!” He feels his eyes water. “Everyone always leaves me, please don’t go, don’t leave me too, papa!”_

_“Zaves, you know I’d never truly leave you,” fingers scratch at the back of his head. “I’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see me, I’m always there.”_

_“But I need you there with me, papa! I need you there to smack me over the head when I do something stupid! And, to get me back when I prank you! And, to make it all better again when I get injured or sick! I need you, papa, I don’t want you to go!”_

_“You’d best believe you’re getting more than a simple smack over the head for this stunt when I wake up.”_

_He inhales deeply, turning to look up at him, bright blue meeting emerald green. “When?”_

_“When.” The Healer nods lightly. “I trust Zed’s abilities, he’ll find a cure, for the both of us.”_

_Zaveriel smiles slightly, pressing his ear back to the Archangel’s chest, a large warm hand cradles the side of his head. “Where are we, papa?”_

_“I’m not sure, little one, Azrael calls it limbo.” His master hums softly. “He compares it to a waiting room, where one goes while they’re dying, not quite dead yet, but not quite alive.” He scratches behind his ear lightly. “And, yes, I could hear you, I accept your apology, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still cross with you. What you did was extremely foolish, I’m very disappointed in you, Zaveriel, I should take you over my knee here **and** after we wake up.” Fingers close around his ear. “You know what, I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”_

_It all kind of happens so fast from there, one minute he’s standing there in his Archangel’s arms, then he’s being dragged over by the ear, and in the next moment, he’s looking down at his Archangel’s feet, the back of his trousers are being pulled down, and he yelps loudly, jumping slightly, when a large heavy hand comes down on his bare bottom._

_…_

He wakes with a deep inhale of breath, flailing as he rockets up, he hears his older brothers calling his name, but he pays them no mind, looking over at the prone form next to him. “Papa!”

Vaguely he hears someone ask. _Papa?_

And someone else responds. _He hasn’t called Raph papa since he was a fledgling._

“Papa!” He pushes himself out of the bed, his body still weak from being prone for so long, and he collapses over the Archangel. “Papa!”

The elder under him grunts at the impact, and he turns himself straight, pressing his ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily. Arms slowly curl around him, a hand pressing to the side of his head, and he hears the deep voice rumble softly under him. “It’s alright, little one, I’m here.”


	232. Quite The Predicament (Thaddeus and Lahabiel)

“Well, haven’t we found ourselves in quite the predicament.” His voice announces his arrival, as the Warden steps in through the doorway, and closes the thick door behind him, tossing his file to rest on the table where his top and boots rest, and comes to stand at his side. “Lahabiel, you bit one of my guards.”

He makes a face. “They put their hand in my mouth.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” he smiles, despite himself, squirming slightly when a finger pokes into his side. “I don’t think so. I think it’s actually the other way around, you put your mouth on their hand, so you like biting people, huh?”

Lahabiel sticks his tongue out. “I told them not to get too close.”

Thaddeus raises an eyebrow, but he’s amused, he can tell by the way he smiles. “I like biting people too, you know.” Lahabiel raises his own eyebrow. “I’m being serious, I do, maybe I should bite you in return for biting one of my guards.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Ohoho, someone’s feeling ballsy, ordering me about.” He curls his right hand around the edge of the table and hops up, straddling his legs, he looks up at the Warden with wide eyes. “Now, I’m definitely going to bite you.”

The young prisoner giggles when he turns to the side, and lowers himself down, trying to lean in the other direction, away from him. “Thaddy, you’re a jerk!”

“I know.” He rushes down, and Lahabiel squeals when he starts nibbling on his ribs, he kicks his feet, struggling against his binds, waving his arms around. “I’m a big jerk.”

“Eieieieiaiaiaiaaahahhahahahhahahaha ahahahahahhahahahahaha Thahahahahaddyyy! Thahahahhaaddyyy! I’m sohohohorry! I’m sohohohorry! Aahahahahahhahahaahaeeeieieieiaiaiaaiaahahhahahahhahahaa!”

“Oh, you’re sorry now?” Thaddeus pulls away, and he giggles breathlessly, staring up in the Warden’s shining eyes. “But you weren’t sorry when you did it, were you?” The youth bites his lip. “Tell me the truth, mister.” He shakes his head. “That’s what I thought.” He rushes down on the other side, and Lahabiel squeals again, arching his back.

“Eeiieeieieiiieaiiaiaiaiaaahahahahahahhahahaha aahahahhahahahaha! Thahahhhahahahaaddyyy! Ahahahahhahaaha aeieieeieiaiaiaiaahahahahahhahahaha nohhohohoho! Nohhohohhohot thahahahat! Nohhohoohot nihihihibbles! Eeiieieiiaaiahaaaahahahahahhaahhaahhhaaaa! I’m sohohohohorry! I’m sohohhoohorry!”

“Not yet, you’re not.” The Warden settles himself down, pinching his lower belly lightly, gathering up the pouch of baby fat that’s there, and lowers his head, nibbling on it, and the boy squeals, throwing his head back.

“Eieieieiaaiiaaiaiaahahahahahahhhahahaahaaa nohohohot thehehehere! Aahahahahhahahahahahahhahaaeeieieieaiaiaahhaahahhahahahahhahahhaha! Nohhohhoot thehehehehere! Thahahahahhaddy pleheheheease! Eieieieaiaiaahaahahahhahahahahaaha! I’m soohhohohohorry! I’ll nehehehehheever dohohohoho ihihihit ahahahhaagain! Neheheheever!” He goes ignored. “Aaaaaahahahahhahahahaha nohohhhohohhoot thehehehee behehehheeard! Nohhohohohohot thahahahahat! Plehehehehheease! Eieieiaiaiaiaiaahahahahahhahahhahaa! Nohohohohoho! EIeieiieaiiaiaiaaaaahahahahahahahahahha! Nohohohot thahahhahhahahat!

Thaddeus chuckles, rubbing his beard into the younger angel’s lower belly, feeling it shake under him from the force of their laughter. “You like my beard though.”

“I dohohohoho nohohohohot! Aaahahahahhahahaheheaheheeeieieiieieiaieaieaaaahahahahahahahahahahaha Thahahahahhahaaddyyyy! Nohohohhohohot thehehehehehhee behehehehhehahaaard! Nohohhohohot thahahahahahahhaat! Pleheheheheheeease!”

He smiles. “Fine, no beard.” He takes a deep breath and buries his face into their belly, blowing a massive raspberry, chuckling softly from the loud squeal that echoes around the room.

“EEEIEEIEIIEIEIEIEIEEEEEIEIAIIAAIAAAAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! THAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAT’S WOHOHHOHOHORRSEE! IHIHIHIHII WAHAHAHAHHAANT THEHEHEHEHHEHEE BEHEHEHEHHEHEAAAARD IHIHIHIHIHINSTEHEHEHEHHEAD! IHIHIHIHI WAHAHAHAHAHAANT THEHEHEHHEE BEHEHEHEHHEEARD! EIEEIEIEEEIEIEIEIEEEEEIEIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAHAA NOHOHOHOHHOT BEHEHEHEHHEHEERRIES! EEEIEIEIAIAIAAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHEHEAHEEIEEIIEIEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA! PLEHEHEHEHHEHEHEASE! EEEHEHEHEHAHAAHAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHHAHAEHEHEEHEEIEIEIAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

The Warden looks up when he feels a tug on the bun on the back of his head and looks down when a small hand covers his mouth, he huffs softly, the young angel shrieks when he licks their hand, pulling it back instantly. “Eewww Thaddy!”

“Laha, you naughty boy, you broke free.” He leans forward, the younger angel groans dramatically as he lays over him, and he shakes his head in wonder. “Laha, you _melted_ it.” He sits back, poking him around the belly, and the boy giggles, batting at his hands. “Did you melt my strap with your grace?” Lahabiel shakes his head, giggling wildly, trying to suck his belly in. “Tell me the truth, mister.” He dips a wiggling finger in his belly button and the youth shrieks. “Tell me the truth, did you melt my strap with you grace?”

Lahabiel giggles hard as he nods his head and he chuckles softly. “You naughty boy, you, now I have to replace it.” He wiggles his index fingers over either side of the boy’s belly button, making him shriek again, and try to suck in his belly once more. “Those aren’t easy to come by, you little meanie, it’s going to take me a _whole_ day to get a new one because they have to be specially made. Do you know how many tickle tortures I’m going to have to give up, a lot, that’s how many, and it’s all your fault.”

The young prisoner giggles. “Guehehehehehess yohhohohhou cahahahhan’t tohohohorture mehehehe ahahahahanymohohohore!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Who said that, they clearly misled you, I don’t _need_ you to be strapped down, it just makes it easier for me.” He reaches for his small hand, curling his fingers around his wrist gently. “Let me show you.” Lahabiel giggles when he stretches over him, raising his arm above his head, groaning dramatically when he rests over him slightly, and he flutters his fingers over his side. “Hey! I’m not crushing you! Stop with the groaning, mister, I feel insulted!” He turns back to the exposed armpit of the freed arm. “Let me show you how I can still torture this armpit even without this arm being strapped down.” He takes a deep breath and buries his face in the youth’s armpit, blowing a deep massive raspberry, and the youth under him screeches, loudly, he laughs softly at the reaction, and takes another deep breath. He gets three raspberries in, when another hand appears, pushing at his head desperately, and legs curl up under him, trying to push him off.

Laughing softly, he pulls back, looking down. “Lahabiel, you’re more trouble then you’re worth, I swear.” He crawls off of him, setting where his legs had been just a minute ago, legs hanging over the edge of the table, Lahabiel giggles freely, curling in on himself, and he shakes his head, looking down at the straps on the end of the table, whining dramatically, he buries his face in his hands, and whines loudly. “Laha, stop breaking my stufffffff!”

Lahabiel giggles, getting his feet under him, and launches himself at the Warden, curling around his side as much as he can. Thaddeus laughs softly, grabbing him around the middle, and pulls him around to rest on his lap, his arms curling around him. “You’re the _only_ one who does this. You know that? The _only_ one. Why do you enjoy giving me such a _hard_ time?”

The youth shrugs. “It’s a living.”

“ _It’s a living,_ he says. You’re a little meanie, that’s what you are, this is the third time I’ve had to replace the straps because of you.” He squeezes the boy in his arms for a moment. “This time, I’m getting grace _suppressant_ straps. See how you like those, you little meanie.”

“You love me, though!”

He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the back of the boy’s neck, leaning around to rest his chin on his shoulder. “I do.”


	233. Promises Made (Thaddeus & Theo)

Theo shrinks back with he turns around, there’s a fire blazing in his eyes, and though he likes to think of himself as being a tough angel, that fire burning in his eyes scares him, but Thaddeus pays him no mind, stepping up to the cell he’s in front of. “ _What_ did you just _say_?”

The prisoner within stutters, trying to explain himself, and Thaddeus shakes his head, reaching for the keys on his belt. “No, _no sir,_ not in _my_ Prison.”

He watches the older angel unlock the cell and drag the prisoner out by the upper arm, dragging him down the hall, gesturing for him to follow from over his shoulder, and he jogs forward to catch up with him, walking at his side silently as he drags the prisoner down to his office.

Theo stands to the side, looking at his boots, the cries and shrieks of the prisoner who had insulted him echoing in his ears as Thaddeus thrashed him with his whip. He kept his gaze on his boots when the thrashing came to an end, the prisoner sobbing harshly, muffled by the Warden’s shoulder, listening as he whispered soothingly to him until his sobs lessened, quieting down into intermittent sniffles. The door opens, he hears it, but he doesn’t see it, he’s still staring down at his boots.

The door closes again.

Fingers curl around his wrists, pulling him forward, and then they disappear, curling around his cheeks, pulling his head up, warm lips press to his forehead, and he closes his eyes, comforted in that warm feeling that washes over him, arms curl around him, pulling him closer, until he’s pressing to the older angel’s chest, slowly, hesitantly, he curls his arms around him too, pressing against his chest, he feels his chin rest on top of his head. “Theo,” the voice rumbles under his ear. “Has that been going on for a while?”

He licks his lips. “Since…Since the beginning.”

Thaddeus hums softly. “You’ve been treated like that since your very first day?” He frowns when he feels the younger angel nod lightly. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I—I thought you knew.”

That rings in his ears, it will for some time, Theo had been being abused and he’d assumed he’d _known_ and was _allowing_ it to happen. “Theo..Theo is that why you betrayed me?”

Theo takes a small breath. “Naomi said she knew how to make them stop.” He closes his eyes, taking comfort in the arms wrapped around him the way they are, pressing in closer. “I’m sorry, Thaddy.”

“ _No_ , Theo, no.” A hand curls around the side of his head. “ _I’m_ sorry. I didn’t know, I hadn’t the slightest inkling, if I had known, if I _had_ , I would _never_ have allowed it to continue.”

“I just wanted them to stop.” He whispers. “I didn’t…..I didn’t mean to betray you…I just wanted them to stop…By the time I’d realized I’d been tricked….It was too late…..I just wanted them to stop, Thaddy.”

“Oh, little brother, I’m so sorry.” He pulls him closer. “I’m so, _so_ sorry.” Lips press to the side of his head. “It’s going to be better now, I promise, I swear, things will be better.”

He pauses a moment before he responds. “Promise?”

“I _promise_.”


	234. Really In It Deep (Thaddeus, Raphael, & Salathiel)

“Come on, I said I was sorry.” He curls his fingers in the back of the Archangel’s belt, bouncing slightly with every step he takes, hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his dreads hanging around his face. “When are you going to let it go?”

“Oh, I’ve let it go.” The Archangel intones. “I’m very appreciative that you two saved my brother from fading, even though, you could have just told me, but we’ll let that small detail slide.” A hand pats his bottom lightly. “Thaddeus asked if he could give his own comeuppance for slitting his throat, and I said he could, so here we are.”

“That’s all well and fair, I mean, I _did_ steal his grace, but why am I hanging over your shoulder?”

“Would you have come here willingly?” He gets silence. “That’s why.”

He waves at Aeshma and Temeluch as they allow them entrance into the Prison, and they glare at him, okay, that’s deserved, he did cut their Warden’s throat and steal his grace. He’s probably traumatized that poor prisoner he’d been torturing at the time, no regrets, okay, no, a few regrets.

“Ah, Raph, you brought him.” He stiffens at his voice, Thaddeus doesn’t sound angry, but his tones can be deceiving. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Thaddy,” Raphael’s deep voice rumbles in his ear from his position against his back. “It’s only fair.”

Warm fingers curl around his ankle. “And, he’s already barefoot.”

“Oh, yes, I caught him by surprise, snatched him up before he could get to his boots.”

“Excellent, very good.” Those fingers release his ankle. “Care to join us?”

His eyes widen when he hears his Archangel hum in contemplation. “I gladly accept your invitation, Thaddy.”

“Of course, it’s the least I could do, come in, come in, let’s get him all strapped down.”

They’re moving again, and he presses his hands to the Healer’s back, lifting himself up slightly, squirming in his hold, one of them is bad enough, _both_ of them just isn’t _fair_. The door closes, and he looks up, Thaddeus’s blue eyes meet his silver eyes, and for a moment, he’s afraid that they’re not friends anymore, but he smiles at him, winking playfully, as he steps forward, and then he disappears.

“Lay him here.”

Salathial yelps as he’s tugged over his Archangel’s shoulder, a large hand cradling the back of his head, as he’s flipping around to lay on the table, his head resting back on a pillow. He’d go willingly for one of them, but he’s decidedly _not_ going down easily for _both_ of them, so he squirms, throwing his arms and kicking his legs, trying to push himself from the table. Fingers curl around his wrists and fingers curl around his ankles, tugging them down straight, and straps wrap around his ankles and wrists. He looks between them both nervously as both Warden and Healer come to stand at his sides.

Thaddeus looks up at the Archangel across from him. “Wanna see who can make him laugh harder?”

“I don’t think that would be a fair fight, I’ve had much more experience in torturing poor young angels,” Raphael smiles at the Warden before turning his attention down to his nervous blacksmith. “And, I’ve known him all his life. I know _all_ about him.”

The younger angel raises his hands. “Then, by all means, show me what you know, oh, wise one.”

“N—Now, guys, l—lets talk about this.” The blacksmith licks his lips, edging away from his Archangel when he raises his hands, he knows _all_ about those hand, and how much _havoc_ they can wreck. “N—Now, Raph, let’s n—not do anything we’re g—going to regret, just p—put those hands d—down.”

“Oh, wow, you’re not even touching him, and he’s losing it.”

“I’m just _that_ good.”

Salathiel tries to scoot away from those two large hands as they come to loom over his belly, pulling at his binds, he’s tried melting them with his fiery grace, but that’s not working. _When did Thaddy get grace suppressant straps?_ “N—Now, Raph, y—you don’t want to d—do this to the o—one who makes a—all your w—weapons. M—Might not end w—well.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was threatening you.”

“It does sound like that, doesn’t it?”

He shrieks, admittedly, unashamedly shrieks when those warm fingers claw into his belly, throwing his head back in uproarious laughter, he arches his back, shrieking with laughter, tugging against his restraints.

Thaddeus laughs softly. “Oh, my god, his hair is steaming.”

Raphael chuckles lightly, smiling down at his blacksmith’s laughter, he hasn’t heard it in quite some time. “Yes, that happens.”

“Aaaahahahahahahahahahahahaaa Raahahahahahhahahaaph stoohohhhohohohohoop! Stohohohohop! Aaahahhahahahhahahahahahaa nohohohohoho! Dohohohohohohon’t! Stohohohohohop! Aahahahahahahahhahahahaaaaeeeaeieiieiaiaahahahahhahahahahahaa! Rahahahahhaaph! Aahahahahahahahahaha!”

“I think he just said don’t stop.”

“That’s what I heard.” He nods slightly. “Want to really get him going?”

“I’m always down.”

“I’ll stay here at his belly, you get his ribs, it’s truly magical.”

“Ohoho, this I have to see, then.”

The blacksmiths eyes widen, and he shakes his head fervently, when Thaddeus poises his fingers over his ribs, and _screams_ , when he claws in too. Bright hysterical laughter filling the room, and they both chuckle down at him, like the _assholes_ they are.

“Oh, wow, this is magical.”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to use his grace to get free.”

“I sealed his grace. He tends to burn when tickled.”

“WHAHAHAHHAHAHHAAT! YOHOHOHOHOHOHOOUUU DIHIHIHIHIHID WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAT! STOHOHOHOHOHOOHOP! EEEIEIEIIEIEAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHITS SOHOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAAD! RAHAHAHHAHAHAAAPH! THAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHADDYYY! STOHOHOHOHOP! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! THIHIHIHIHIS IHIHIHIHIHIS SOHHOHOHOHO MEHEHEHEHHEHEEAN! EEIEIEAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA STOHOHOHHOP NAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”

“And, slitting my throat _wasn’t?”_ Thaddeus hums softly. “Tell me, oh, master, what’s his _worst_ spot?”

“His wings.” Raphael smiles up at him. “Would you like to see for yourself?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE WIHIHIHHIHINGS!”

“I didn’t ask _you_ , little one.”

“Why, Raph, I’d be honored if you’d allow me to see your treasured blacksmith’s wings.”

“Of course, Thaddy, it would be my pleasure.” The Archangel makes a complicated hand gesture above his head, and reaches out, curling his fingers slightly, pulling his wing into this plain, he nods to the Warden. “Just reach out, it’s right there.”

Thaddeus stares at the blacksmith’s wings in his hand in awe, they’re…. they’re _beautiful_ , not what he expected from someone who comes home smudged in soot every day. They’re orange and red, a slight speckle of silver mixed in, the same color as his eyes, the colors seem to shift as they move in the light, as molten magma shifts in color.

Raphael smiles, watching him stare in wonder. “Stunning, aren’t they?”

_“Yes.”_

The Archangel hums softly, brushing his free hand over the silky-smooth feathers, the blacksmith hums softly, his wing shifting under the gentle touch. “They don’t always look this way, I groom them once a week, or they can become rather nasty from all the soot and smudges.”

“I would have thought they’d be more metallic in color, given what he does.”

“Yes, most do, but his grace is the same colors as the magma he works with, that’s why his wings are this way. Such as my grace is emerald green and my wings match in color. Your grace is rose-gold and your own wings match. Wings are a physical manifestation of one’s grace.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“One learns something new every day.”

Thaddeus nods lightly, petting his hand over the silky-smooth feathers, smiling, looking over when he hears the quiet blacksmith give a soft purring sound. “Is he _purring_?”

Raphael nods slightly, resetting a few out of place feathers. “Yes, he purrs when you rub or scratch his wings, sure way to put him to sleep, just scratch his wings for a few minutes, and he’s out like a light.”

“So, you’re telling me, if I stood here and scratched his wing for a few minutes, I’d put him to sleep.”

“Yes.”

“Alright, alright, that’s interesting.” The Warden looks over to the Archangel across from him. “Okay, oh wise one, care to show me all about these wings?”

“Of course, I’d be happy too.” Salathiel inhales when he feels his right wing stretch out slightly, fingers pressing just under the bend of his wing, resting there lightly. “Try here, right under the bend of the wing.” He stiffens when he feels his left wing stretch slightly, fingers pressing under the bend of that wing too, resting there lightly. “At the same time?”

“At your cue.”

He can’t see what the cue is, but he screams, _screams_ , when those fingers dig in, clawing at the sensitive flesh under his feathers. He tugs, trying to pull his wings back, he can’t put them away, not with his grace sealed, so he’s not sure where exactly he plans to hide them from attack, but _anything’s_ better then this.

“EEEIEIEIEIIEIAIAIAIAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO EEIEIEIEIIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHE WIHIHIIHIHIHINGS! NOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHE WIHIHIHIHINGS! IEEEEIEIIEIEIEIIEIAIAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA PLEEHEHEHHEHEEASE! RAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAAPH STOHHOHOHHOHOHOHHOP! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAADDYYYY! NOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIEIEEEEEEEIEIIEIEEIIEIAIEIAIEAIAAIAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA STOHHOHHOHOHOHHOP! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEASE! NOHHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEH WIHIHIHIHINGS!”

“Oh, this is _gold_.”

“Isn’t it?” The fingers pull away from his wings, for a moment, he _knows_ Raphael, he knows him like a younger brother would their elder, he knows him like he knows the back of his hand, he’s not _nearly_ done, he’s giving a _lesson_ now, on how to _torture_ an angel’s wings, and his lessons are _very_ thorough and well taught. “Move here, to the alula, it’s very sensitive, so you don’t have to be too rough, just light gentle touches will do the trick.”

Fingers wiggle in lightly under the feathers, and he squeals, throwing his head back in the pillow, kicking his legs as best as he can, curling his fingers into fists. He bites his lip, trying to keep his laughter silently, but an all-knowing finger scratches lightly at the elbow of his wing, and he squeals again, throwing his head from side to side, his dreads smacking against the pillow lightly.

“Right here?”

“Right there, yes, nice and gentle. Being too rough under the alula can be painful. And we don’t want to hurt him.”

“No, no, I don’t want to hurt him.”

The blacksmith is howling, absolutely howling with laughter, pleading between bouts of hysterical cackles, his pleas fall on deaf ears, part of him knows he deserves this, it’s his own fault, he’d cut Thaddy’s throat and stole most of his grace, and he’d been the one to instruct Elyon that they needed Raphael’s grace too, so this is most certainly, probably deserved.

He’s just thankful they _don’t_ want to cause him harm for what he’d done.

“Okay, move here, to the lesser coverts, still be gentle, but you don’t have to be as gentle as you were with the alula.” Fingers press just under the elbow of his wing, and he pants, pleading for a moment, a small break, just a minute to catch his breath.

They’re not listening to him, he comes to figure out, he’s being ignored.

_Assholes._

“Right here?”

“Yes, right there, you can dig in lightly, still be gentle about it, but you can apply a bit more pressure here.”

Ten fingers dig in lightly, five on each side, and he squeals again, pulling on his wings in their grasp, anything to get them away, _anything,_ this is cruel, Raphael is _teaching_ him how to torture wings, as if Thaddeus _isn’t_ bad enough _without_ that knowledge, and he’s the unfortunate _training_ dummy.

“STOP! STOHOHOHHHOHOHOHOOP! STOHHOHOHOHHOOP TEHEHEHEHEHHEHHEACHING HIHIHIHIHIHIM! EEIEIEIIEAIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAAHAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! IHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOHORRY! SOHOHOHOHOHO SOHOHOHOHORRY! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHIHI NEHEHEHEHHEHEED AHAHAHAHAHA MIHIHIHIHIHINUTE! JUHUHUHUHUST AHAHAHAHHA MIHIHIHIHINUTE! PLEHEHEEHEHHEEASE! EEIEEIIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHHEEHEASE RAHHAHAHAHAHAAPH! JUHUHUHUHUHUST AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA MIHIHIHIHINUTE! PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE!”

“Okay, let’s give him a small moment to catch his breath, we don’t want him to hyperventilate.”

“No, no, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”

A hand rubs over his right wing, and he gulps down mouthfuls of air, giggling lightly under his breath.

“I’d never would have imagined that the quiet stoic elusive blacksmiths could be so…so _fledgling-like_.”

“Isn’t it something, one just has to know the right buttons to push, they’re all quite sensitive, you’ve just got to know where to go.”

Thaddeus smiles. “You say that as though you know firsthand.”

The Healer smiles at him in return. “I’ve done _plenty_ of _research_.” He rubs his hand over the primaries, smiling lightly when the wings twists into the touch, and he tugs lightly on the feathers, ensure there are no loose ones that need plucked. “You think this is a sight, you should see Michael and Elyon, now, that’s a sight to see. Michael is ruthless when it comes to that poor boy.”

A hand presses over his forehead, and he looks up, meeting his Archangel’s bright emerald eyes. “Better?”

Salathiel nods lightly, his breathing under control, readying himself for the next assault. “Better.”

“Good.” His Archangel turns his attention away again. “Okay, Thaddy, move here, to the median coverts.”

“Here?”

“Yes, there, now, for ordinary angels, you’d still want to be on the gentle side, the median coverts are still quite tender, not as much as the lesser coverts and the alula, but still tender. But, for a blacksmith, it’s rather tough, they’re known to curl hooks in here, _which I’ve told them repeatedly to stop doing,_ you can really dig in here, for him, I have a preference for clawing at the skin, but how you go about it is your own preference.”

“Okay, so, coverts and the alula are the major sensitive areas?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I think I got it.”

Salathiel lifts himself from the table, screaming brightly, when fingers claw in under the feathers, arching his back sharply. He _hates_ it when Raphael tickles his wings, not because it’s not fun, he likes having fun with his Archangel, he enjoys those moments they get to spend together, it’s just so _bad_. It’s his _worst_ stop. He tugs on his arms, straining against the straps, and he hears Thaddeus yelp, he tugs on his wing as he jumps back, but the fingers stop clawing, and that’s _all_ that matters.

“His fist is on _fire_!”

“Ah, yes, that happens, and this is _with_ his grace sealed, if it wasn’t he’d have melted the straps and the table.”

“I appreciate you sealing his grace.”

“I thought you would. You can get closer, it won’t burn you, it’s only _hot_ on inorganic materiel, hence why the straps and table would have melted.”

“You sure?”

“Touch it, if you’re unsure.”

“Umm… _You_ touch it.”

He hears Raphael sigh, and a large warm hand curls around his left fist, squeezing lightly. “See, it won’t burn you.”

 _“Your_ hand is on _fire_!”

“Yes, that happens too, their fire consumes anything it touches, but it only burns and melts inorganic material. I promise, you’ll be okay, I wouldn’t let you come to harm.”

“Okay…Okay, I trust you, wise one.”

“Thank you.”

“Where to now, kind instructor?”

“Okay, down here, to the greater secondary coverts.”

“Right here?”

“Right there, now, for any angel, this is quite a rough spot, so you can dig in rather harshly, still maintain a sort of gentleness, but you can really dig in. For Sala specifically though, be gentle, the flesh is always rather sensitive, he’s got a habit of pulling these feathers out when he stressed over something.”

“Aww, poor little guy.”

“Indeed, what you’re seeing wasn’t there only a few weeks ago, after everything he’d done, he was sure none of you would want to be his friend anymore, and he’d pulled nearly all of them out.”

“Aww, Sala, I’ll _always_ be your friend.”

He looks up, meeting the Warden’s eyes. “Swear?”

Thaddeus smiles down at him, rubbing a finger over his cheek. “I swear.” He turns his attention back up to his Archangel. “Okay, so for everyone else, it can be a bit rougher, but for Sala specifically, you have to be gentle.”

“Yes, you got it.”

Salathiel shrieks softly, giggling hysterically as fingers playfully scratch over the skin of his secondary coverts, pressing his head back in the pillow.

“That’s cute.”

“Isn’t it, and he’s supposedly the most fearsome of the blacksmiths, hard to believe seeing him like this, isn’t it?”

“Seeing this, I’d say he’s about as fearsome as a puppy.”

He swallows his giggles, takes a deep breath, and barks. They laugh above him.

“Okay, here, these are the tertials.”

“These?”

“Those, this spot is fine for anything, I know how fond you are of your nibbles and raspberries, the tertials are one of the perfect places for either of those.”

“Have _you_ ever—”

The blacksmith groans loudly. _“Yeeeessssss! All the freaking time!”_

“Really, _you_ , I thought you were more a grace torture kind of guy?”

“I prefer using my grace, yes, I can get to the wings without the hassle of pulling them out, but I can be hands on too, it just depends on my mood and what I’ve got going on at that present moment. I’m usually hands on with Sala, it tends to get better reactions then my grace does, and I’m _all_ about the reaction.”

“Huh, wow, okay, learn something new every day.”

“Yes, you do, shall we?”

His eyes widen when he hears two simultaneous deep breaths, and _screeches_ when two raspberries are blown into his tertials, the blacksmith _yanks_ on his grace, especially when they take another deep breath, he yanks as hard as he can.

Raphael chuckles above him. “He’s trying to pull his grace free.”

“He can’t, though, right?” Thaddeus sounds concerned. “I don’t want him destroying my table.”

“No, no, don’t worry, he can’t break my seal, he’s not strong enough.”

“Whew, okay, good. Where to now, wise professor?”

“These are the secondaries, go here.”

“These, right here?”

“Yes, right there, the seconds are tough on any angel, but especially on a blacksmith, they have a habit of hanging hooks on their secondaries, _the only place I condone it, Salathiel,_ to hang their tools on.”

“So, why not just get a tool _belt_.”

“Because they like to be extra like that, other angels would never think to do that, and they like freaking them out when they see it.”

“That’s kind of mean.”

“I know, we’ve been trying to get them to stop, it hasn’t been successful.”

“Hmm, well, I’m sorry for the rough time you’re all having.”

“I appreciate it, it’s like teaching a fledgling how to fly, anyway, the secondaries, you can be as rough as you want, you can do _anything_ to the secondaries. For Sala, the best place on the secondaries is right here.”

“Here?”

“Right there.”

Salathiel screams at the suddenness of the assault, hysterical laughter exploding from him, he knows he should have known it was coming, but he’d gotten distracted by a train of thought for a new project, and thus, hadn’t been prepared.

“Woah, that was crazy.”

“We caught him by surprise, but it’s usually a similar reaction even if he _is_ paying attention, he was lost in thought this time, though, no doubt for a new project to work on.”

“Okay, secondaries, anything goes, higher coverts and alula you have to be gentle, on Sala specifically you have to be gentle on the greater secondary coverts.”

“Right.” Fingers press to the outer side of his wing. “This is the carpal edge.”

“These, right here?”

“Yes, right there, you got it. The carpal edge is tough, it’s thick skin, so if you want to really get to it, you’ve really got to dig in for it. You have to apply a bit of pressure.”

“Still with a touch of gentleness, though?”

“Not with the carpal edge, the skin is thick enough that you can’t get to any of the really sensitive nerves underneath, you can dig in as much as you want there. Now, for Sala, what I’ve found that gets the best reaction is two fingers, and just poke at the skin firmly, it destroys him.”

“Really?”

“Give it a try for yourself.”

The blacksmith squeaks loudly, shrieking bubbly giggles at every poke, arching his shoulders when they both poke at both sides, curling his fists tightly, his wings fluttering in their hands.

“Wow, doesn’t take much for him, does it?”

“Not at all, his wings are _very_ ticklish, this is where I go when I’m punishing him for being mouthy.”

“Nice.”

“Isn’t it. Okay,” fingers press to the outer middle of his wing. “These are the primary coverts. Unlike the higher coverts, you don’t have to be gentle on these ones, you can be as rough here as you like. Especially on a blacksmith, when they add new material to the magma in the furnace, it will usually cause a small explosion, they curl their wings around themselves as a shield, the primary coverts is usually what takes the brunt of it, so for them, you’ve really got to dig in, or they just won’t feel it, but once you get to that right spot in depth, they’ll lose it in moments.”

“So, these coverts, on anyone, I don’t have to worry about hurting them if I’m too rough?”

“No, not here, it’ll be fine.”

“Okay, cool.”

He shrieks, he knows who finds it first, Raphael knows just how much pressure to apply to get to it, it takes Thaddeus a moment, but he finds it, and he shrieks again, bright bubbly laughter echoing around the room.

“Oh, my god, he sounds like a fledgling, that’s adorable.”

“Isn’t it, he’s very much on the adorable side, and I don’t know if that’s just me being biased or not, but I can’t see how people consider him to be the most frightening of the blacksmiths.” He feels fingers press against the bottom of his wing. “Okay, move down, these are the primaries.”

“These ones?”

“Those ones, they’re the primaries, also known as the flight feathers, these ones are a double-edged sword, so you have to be careful, they can be soft and silky, or the can be hard and as sharp as a blade. Though they have that ability to be used as a weapon, the only ones who really use them is the Powers, but anyone can, when the blacksmiths are forced into battle, they use them as a secondary weapon, the tips are as sharp as a razor, Sala himself has severed limbs with his.”

“Really?”

“Yes, it’s very rare for any of the blacksmiths to be forced into battle, they’re usually neutral, they remained neutral through the war, until they were _forced_ into battle, perhaps that’s where they get their fearsome depiction, they don’t take prisoners, from either side, if you get in their way, they will take you down. It’s best not to get on their bad side.”

“No kidding, wow, he’s _severed_ limbs?”

“He has, but anyone will do anything when they’re backed into a corner and desperate, he knows he is not permitted to permanently damage anyone, friend or foe, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Thaddeus whistles. “And that’s just his _secondary_ weapon, what’s his primary weapon?”

“He has a whip and a mace.”

“Wow, okay, cool, never get on their bad side, noted.”

“It’s best for everyone to avoid that. Anyone, the primaries, be careful, you can be as rough as you like, but I find it’s the light gentle strokes that cause the most damage.”

“Light gentle strokes are best, got it.”

Salathiel squeals, fingers fluttering softly over his primaries, and he throws his head back, twisting his wrists in the straps, tugging on his wings again, flapping them as best as he can.

He hears Raphael yelp. “Salathiel, if you smack me with your wing, I _will.”_

His eyes widen and he squeals again. “NOHOHOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEASE NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHHAHAAT NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAHHAAT! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!”

“You will what?”

“Ah, I’m sorry, my friend, but that’s between us.”

“Hey, I get it, no worries.”

The light flutters carry on for a few minutes, he cackles brightly for the duration of that time, and then they let up.

“Okay, lastly, there’s one _really_ good spot, every angel has _this_ particular spot.”

“ _Every_ angel?”

“Thaddeus, if you even _try,_ I will _take you down_.”

“I wasn’t gonna _do_ anything, it was just a question, don’t get so grumpy about a simple question.”

“I could _very_ easily trade him out for you.”

“I’m sorry I called you grumpy.”

“Good choice.” Salathiel makes a small noise when his wing is pulled around, it’s not painful, it’s just a slight stretching sensation. “Now, this _really_ good spot is right here, this is the coracoid, this is the bone that connects the wing to the shoulder blades. _Very_ sensitive. Even the lightest stroke of a finger will break them.”

“Really?”

“Try it out for yourself.”

The blacksmith screeches brightly, loud hysterical laughter erupting from him, and he tugs on his wings desperately, anything to get them away from _there_.

“ _Oh my god!”_

“I _told_ you, now, one is bad enough, but I know you’re the Prisons torturer, so both at the same time would be rather torturous.”

“Noted. But, how would I be able to get to the wings, they’re kept on the metaphysical plane.”

“Easy, watch what I do.” Salathiel knows he’s making that complicated hand gesture. “That’s how you release wings. Or, if that’s too complicated, which it is for some, so don’t feel bad, stroking a finger between their shoulder blades and pushing a slight shard of grace into it will pop the so-called bubble they keep their wings in. Don’t worry, they can recreate it when they shift their wings away, so it’s nothing permanent.”

“How should I keep them from flapping though.”

“Well, that’s just preference, I, myself, hold Sala’s wings down with my grace, but if that takes too much concentration, might I suggest expanding the table and using leather straps to hold the wing in place.”

“Noted, thanks, Raph.”

“Always, Thaddy, just ask.” He feels them let go of his wings. “I’m going to release his grace—”

“My things though!”

“I’ll fix it, don’t worry, but you might want to step back a pace or two.” He hears them take a couple steps back, and then he feels it, his grace rushing through him, his inner volcano _erupting,_ he curls his hands into fists, pulling his grace to the surface, and the straps around his wrists and ankles melt away, the table concaves slightly, and he pulls his arms down, kicks himself up onto his feet, and stretches his wings wide, stretching his arms out, brushing his dreads over his shoulders and out of his face.

“Sala,” he turns, peering over his shoulder, Raphael smiles at him, holding his hands out. “Put your wings away and come here.” He nods, spinning on his heel, and kicks off the table, tucking his wings away. The Archangel grunts lightly when he catches him in his arms, and curls an arm under him to keep him in place, he feels somewhat like a fledgling being held like this, but everyone else can fuckoff, he _likes_ being held by his Archangel.

Raphael raises his hands and snaps his fingers, righting what he’d broken, and Thaddeus hums in appreciation. “Thanks, Raph.”

“Of course, it was the least I could do.”

The Warden turns to smile up at him. “So, Sala, thanks for being the best training instrument.”

“You’re welcome, come’s with the job, if you’re associated with Raph.”

“I’d believe it.”

“Well, it’s been nice, Thaddy.” The Warden nods at the Archangel. “But, I’m sure you’ve got things you need to get back to.”

“Unfortunately.”

“I _completely_ understand.” The Healer pats his blacksmiths thigh lightly for his attention. “How about we go take a nap, firefly?”

“I think that sounds like a swell plan.”


	235. Can't Take Much More (Raphael & Shepherd)

His feet hurt, they hurt in the thick snow he stomps through weakly, they burn, but he continues his way up the steps slowly, towards the looming structure. He falls a few times, but pushes himself back up, he needs him, he needs _him_ , only the council can take him from his guardian, only they can do that. He can’t take it anymore, he’s going to kill him, he’s going to _kill_ him, if someone doesn’t do something.

He stumbles forward, his legs giving out slightly, shivering wildly as he falls against the great wooden door, it takes all his strength, strength he hadn’t known he’d still had, to push the door open slightly, enough that he can slip inside. The warmth that confronts him in shocking, and he stumbles forward, his wet bare feet patting against the warm stone underfoot, healers don’t take notice of him, working diligently with their patients, that’s fine, he only came for one of them, he only needs one of them. He stands there, hunched slightly, feet feeling like he’s standing on a thousand needles, shivering wildly, eyes searching out the one he came for.

Then he spots him.

Sitting at the side of a bed, talking to someone before him, and he stumbles forward, using the ends of the beds around him to keep him on his feet, he needs him, he _needs_ him. Other healers take notice of him as he ambles slowly down the aisle, and they try to accost him away, but he hadn’t come this far not to get to the one he _needs_ , and he pushes passed them.

He’s only a few steps away, he can do it, he’s so close that he can hear his deep voice as he speaks to his patient, just a few more steps, just a few more, but the pain in his feet becomes unbearable, and his legs finally give out on him, and he falls forward, crashing into his back, blackness is consuming his vision, his arms curl around his neck slightly, he feels a large hand curl around his wrist, and he only has time to whisper his one request.

_Help me._

…

Raphael yelps, pushed forward, when something _cold_ collides against his back, he looks over his shoulder, pale trembling arms curl around his neck lightly, and he curls his hand around their left wrist, turning slightly to address them, he’ll be with them in just a minute, let someone escort them to a bed, they barely whisper in his ear, but he makes it out, and his eyes widen as they start to fall.

“Woah, woah, woah,” the Archangel catches the youngling around the middle as he collapses into unconsciousness, he turns, standing from his chair, pulling the youth up with him, the boy hangs limply in his arms, and he turns to a passing healer. “Finish up here.”

She nods, trading places with him, and he carries the soaked boy to another bed, laying him down as gently as he can manage, frowning lightly, turning his head around slightly, eyeing the large bruise that pants the left side of his face, it’s almost…. _hand_ shaped.

“Akriel,” he stops his Virtue as he passes. “Can you get me a towel and some dry clothes?”

Akriel nods, looking down to their latest patient, frowning slightly. “Shepherd is back _again_?”

“You recognize this boy?”

The mental specialist nods. “Yes, he comes in almost every other week, last time was for stitches, he said he fell and split his head open.”

“I see,” the Healer looks down at the unconscious boy. “Would you get his chart for me?”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, Akriel.” His Virtue steps away to retrieve what was asked of him, and he turns his attention down to the boy, humming softly. “You _fell_ , huh?” Shaking his head, he leans over, tugging the youngling’s soaked trousers off, takes a moment to examine his frostbitten feet, and crosses around to tug his tunic up over his head. “I don’t think I believe _that_ , little one.”

“Here, as you requested.” Akriel returns, his arms laden with two wool blankets, a towel, new clothes, and his chart resting on top. He hadn’t thought to ask for the blankets, he’s extremely thankful for his Virtues forethought. “If there’s anything else I can do, just let me know.”

“Yes, thank you, Ak.” Raphael turns away from him as he turns to make his leave, setting his things down on the bedside table, he takes up the towel first, rubbing the boy’s head lightly to dry his curls, then he rubs him down, drying the rest of him, he frowns at the boy’s trembling, hypothermia at the onset. He opens the first drawer in the cart, withdrawing the thermometer, and sits on the edge of the boy’s bed. “Let’s check that temperature, shall we?” He slips it under the boy’s tongue, counting down a minute in his head, and frowns. “This is much too low, little one, let me tend to your feet, and then we’ll get you warmed up.” He pulls the dry warm trousers over the boy, to offer him so modesty and privacy, drapes the two wool blankets over him, and pulls the cart and chair down to the end of the bed, taking a seat, he examines the true extent of the frostbitten appendages.

He hums to himself as he reaches into the third drawer of the cart, pulling out balls of bandage wraps, curling one around the ankle, he works his way over his foot, pining it off just under his toes, and wraps those individually, placing a cotton ball in-between to keep them from pressing together, and moves on to the second foot to repeat the process over again. Pulling the blankets down over his bandaged feet, he stands, his knees popping softly, and crosses around to the side of the bed.

The Healer toes his boots off, grabs the boy’s chart off the bedside table, and carefully slides in under him, sharing body heat is the best way to warm a chilled person. He turns the boy over carefully, laying him on his belly, and pulls him up to rest against his chest, his limp form resting between his legs, his cold damp curls brushing over his collar bones, and pulls the blankets up over him securely, resting his arms over his shoulders, he opens the boy’s chart. “Let’s see what this has to say, shall we?”

…

When he comes to, the first thing Shepherd notices, is that he’s _warm_. He’s wearing dry unfamiliar clothes, tucked under thick blankets, and his eyes widen, he’s laying _on top_ of someone. Arms are resting lightly over his shoulders, and he moves sluggishly, making to push himself up.

A large hand curls around the back of his head, pushing him back down gently, and he falls still, when he hears _his_ deep voice rumble under him. “Don’t move, little one, get more rest.” Fingers scratch at his head lightly. “When you’re warm enough, I am going to look over the state of your wings, from what I’ve read thus far, I’m highly concerned, no arguments, just more rest.”

He bites his lip, words are flooding in his mind, and he struggles to say them. “S—S—Safe?”

“Yes, little one, you’re safe here.” Fingers curl over his eyes. “Go back to sleep.”

His eyes close willingly.

When he wakes again, their corner is darker, the lamp on the bedside table is out, he’s still warm, and he’s still laying on top of someone. Arms are curled around his lower back, the chest he rests against is rising and falling softly with the soft breaths of sleep, and he looks around as best as he can, over the Archangel’s arm, watching healers walk around silently, keeping watch over their patients. He turns his head slightly, carefully, he doesn’t want to wake them up, and he blinks, staring at the Archangel’s peaceful face, sleeping peacefully, unaware that he’s being watched.

Raphael had _stayed_ with him.

He was curled up in the arms of an _Archangel,_ his guardian was ballsy, but he _wasn’t_ so ballsy as to try and pry him from the arms of an Archangel.

So, he settles back down, resting his head on the Archangel’s chest, and closes his eyes again.

…

“Alright, so you’re trying to _convince_ me, that you just so _happened_ to fall onto the _only_ rock within a two mile radius, and _that’s_ how you split your head open?” Shepherd nods lightly when the Archangel looks up at him from over the picture he’s looking at, sitting in the chair next to him, his legs stretched out, ankles crossed, feet resting on the side of his bed. “Can you _see_ how I’m finding it _hard_ to _believe_ this supposed story of events?”

“But, that _is_ how it happened.”

“I see,” he turns the picture around, leaning forward for him to see, and he leans over to see what he’s pointing out to him. “Do you see that, right there?” Shepherd nods lightly. “That’s the slice left behind by the tip of a ring, _which_ could not _possibly_ be there if you tripped and fell on a _rock_.” Raphael leans back again. “And, seeing _this,_ leads me to believe that someone _hit_ you hard enough to crack your head open.” He sets the photo down on the bedside table. “Care to tell me _who_?”

The youngling bites his lip and the Archangel nods lightly, lifting another photo from the chart resting in his lap. “Alright, moving on, three weeks previous you came in for a dislocated shoulder, do you remember that?”

“I remember how much it hurt when they put it back into place.”

“I’m sure you do.” He looks over the photo closely. “And, you told the healer who assisted you, and I quote, _‘I jumped out of a tree to get to the next one, didn’t realize how far up I was, and grabbed the nearest branch I could, and I was falling so fast that it just popped out.’_ Do you _expect_ me to believe that, I’ve been in the game for a _long_ time, little one, and I’ve _heard_ many memorable stories for the origins of an injury, and _that_ one is up there with the _best_.”

He bites his lip lightly. “But, I _did_ fall out of a tree.”

“I have no doubts you did, but this most certainly _wasn’t_ that,” he leans forward again, turning the picture around for the youngling to see, pointing the small detail out to him. “Do you see that purple ring around your forearm?”

Shepherd nods slightly. “Yes.”

Raphael nods. “Those are bruises, from the shape and size, I’d say they were left behind by fingers, and my _suspicion_ is that someone took hold of your arm and yanked on it hard enough to dislocate your shoulder.” He sits back again. “Please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

The boy bites his lip, shaking his head as he looks down to his hands resting in his lap, that’s fine, this wasn’t the first case he’s dealt with, it’s hard to open up about it, it’s hard to tell someone when you’re being harmed, he knows this, he’s got the patience of a saint.

“Right, let’s move on to the next one, shall we.” He tosses the photo in his hand to rest on the small growing pile, his healers had suspected maltreatment and taken photos of the injuries the boy came with, he commends their forethought. “Two weeks previous to the dislocated shoulder, you came in for a broken jaw, and you told the assisting healer that this happened because you _just_ so happened to trip on _another_ rock, and your jaw broke when you faceplanted on the ground.” He peers up at the boy from over the photo. “That sounds a bit _farfetched_ to me, either you’re just very _unlucky_ , or you have a _knack_ for _tripping_ over _rocks_.” The Healer turns the photo around, leaning forward again, pointing out the detail he sees. “See this right here?”

Shepherd nods silently.

“That’s a bruise, as is to be expected, though, what’s _curious_ about _this_ bruise, is that it’s on the _side_ of your jaw, whereas, if you’d _tripped_ over a _rock_ and _faceplanted_ on the _ground_ , as you _claim_ you did, the bruise would be centralized to the _front_ and _not_ to the side.” He sits back, tossing the photo onto the small pile they were forming, turning his attention back to the boy. “ _Which_ , I so happen to _speculate_ , is a result of someone _punching_ you in the jaw with enough force to break it.”

The boy shrugs slightly.

“Let’s take a look at this one, hmm,” he pulls another photo from the chart, examining it closely, humming to himself. “This one is from just a couple days ago, you came in to get some poultice for a black eye, naturally, anyone would, but when the assisting healer asked how you came about this particular black eye, as we do when it comes to younglings making frequent visits, you told them, and again, I quote, _‘I tripped and fell into a door handle in my guardians cottage. I’m just really clumsy. Nothing to worry about. Happens all the time.’_ So, reading this, my mind supplies it’s own question, and that would be, you trip into a door handle at least _five_ times a month?”

Shepherd shrugs again. “I guess….”

Raphael nods, leaning forward, turning the picture around. “You see that, right there, just under the eyebrow?” Shepherd nods lightly. “That’s a cut, which, like before, could _only_ be from the tip of a ring, which door handles do _not_ wear, so you couldn’t _possibly_ have gotten _that_ by falling into a door handle.”

“It’s possible…”

“It is _not,_ and you _know_ it’s not.” He closes the chart, tossing it to rest on the bed side table, and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms loosely. “You came to me for help, and I’d _gladly_ help you, but I need to _know_ what you need my help _for_ , so, _please_ , tell me what’s going on, little one.”

Shepherd looks down at his lap again. “Sometimes my guardian can get _mad_.”

“They gets mad, and they what?”

“Punish me?”

The Healer hums softly. “ _You_ don’t even sound like _you_ believe that to be true.”

“He says….He says I’m too weak and he’s just trying to toughen me up a little…..so I’m not such a baby…..He says he’s _helping_ me….”

“Shepherd, _that_ is not _helping_ you, _that_ is _abusing_ you. He’s _abusing_ you.” He rubs at his chin lightly. “What’s his name?”

The youngling looks up slightly. “W—Why do you need to know?”

“Because, the council takes abuse very seriously, he cannot be allowed to be given another young one to raise.”

He nods lightly. “Y—Yosef.”

Raphael nods lightly. “Thank you, how old are you, Shepherd?”

He licks his lips lightly. “Thirteen.”

“I see,” the Archangel hums softly. “You’ll need a _new_ guardian.” He watches the boy inhale nervously, looking down to his fingers again, twiddling them nervously, and he hums again, nudging his leg with his foot for his attention, and when he looks up at him, he offers him a smile. “You’ll come stay with me.”

_“What?”_

He nods faintly. “ _I’ll_ be your new guardian.”

…

There was no telling, from the evidence he’d seen thus far, how bad of a state the boy’s wings were in, so he’d collected everything he’d needed, setting them around the bedbound youngling. Oils and rags, lots and lots of rags, a scrub brush, two basins of water, a bowl of coconut oil set to warm over a burner, lavender soaps, lotions, a few razors, and bandages.

He’d rolled his sleeves up and slid in the bed with the boy, resting between his legs, his cheek pressed lightly over his right thigh.

The Archangel scratches the boy’s head lightly. “Ready?”

Shepherd nods slightly, he’s nervous, he can tell, he can feel the light trembles, it makes him think of Tagas when he’d groomed his wings for the first time. First, he starts with rubbing his back, massaging gently, to ease away the tension, to get him to relax. He does this for a few minutes, until he feels the fingers that had been digging into the outside of his thigh slowly withdraw.

He rubs a finger up the back of the boy’s neck. “I’m going to release your wings, alright?”

The youngling nods again, and he strokes a finger between his shoulder blades, pulling at his wings with his grace, and they fall limply to the side when he pulls them from the metaphysical plane. He resisted the urge to gasp softly, with great difficulty, as his eyes roam over the state of the boy’s wings, this was _atrocious,_ he’d see that man locked away for this crime.

His wings were a shell of their former glory; the primaries had been yanked free without care, the skin red and inflamed, even after all the time that had passed, he was sure this wasn’t done recently. Butts of feathers still poked free, the shafts of a few sticking out like pale twigs, the wax that covered the infected skin was thick and charred as it had been hardened, excruciating for the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end. Welts were hastily scabbed over on the parts the melted wax had hardened and stretched. More then half of his secondaries were missing, yanked free, some broken halfway down the shaft, others broken at the quill.

This wasn’t _abuse_ , this was _torture_.

The boy shifts slightly. “Can…Can you fix it?”

Raphael closes his eyes for a moment, to catch his bearings, to get his temper under control, and curls a hand over the side of his new charge’s head. “I _can_ fix this.”

The first set of rags was set to soak in the bowl of warming coconut oil, and he slowly began to chip away at the thick wax with a razor, humming under his breath, to distract himself from his anger, and to comfort the child resting against him, he removed chunks at a time, peeling away layer after layer, as one would peel an apple.

Above them, the sun slowly travelled across the sky, moving them from noon into the afternoon, not that it mattered, the boy was bedbound until his feet healed completely, he had no where to be, and by then he’d just managed to get the thick layers shaved down, a small pile forming on the floor to his left as he worked fluidly over the one wing.

Raphael peers down at the boy for a moment, pausing in his work, watching the slight rise and fall of his shoulders, as he lay there calmly, not feeling a thing that was being done to him.

After his moment, he reaches over for a rag soaked in coconut oil, and pressed it firmly to a portion of the wax, letting the warmth soften the thick substance, and the oil mix in, to ease the burn as he peeled it off. The Archangel repeated this step a few more times, grimacing slightly at the scabs he pulls up with the wax. Shepherd stiffens, the muscles in his arms tensing, his fingers curling in his thigh again, but he didn’t utter a sound to give any indication to the pain he was sure the boy felt.

The skin was raw once he removed the wax coating, and he was mindful of this as he reached for a pair of large tweezers, and used them to pull the freestanding quills free. He tugs lightly, but firmly, on the feathers that remained, plucking the ones that were broken halfway down, and tenderly smoothed the ones that managed to remain where they lay. The Archangel reaches next for a scrub brush, dipping it into one of the basins of water, lathers it up with lavender soap, and moved on to washing the inflamed skin, with gentle circular strokes.

Shepherd whines softly, the first sound he’s made since he’d began, the first indication that he was feeling pain.

“Shh, little one, it’s alright.”

“..Hurts…”

“I know, little one, I’ll be done scrubbing in a couple minutes.”

True to his word, he moves from the raw skin of the primaries and up to the secondaries above, washing through them in turn, before setting the brush aside and reaching for a jar of moisturizing lotion, rubbing it into the pink flesh with soothing circular strokes, and the boy under his arms sighs softly. He brushes through the mangled and ruffled feathers above, reaching over for a bottle of oil to rub into the individual feathers, leaving them silky and shimmering in the light, before carefully wrapping bandages around the raw skin, and moves onto the next one.

Afternoon quickly turned into desk, and still they remained, the setting sun revealing the sparkling stars, and a few healers made their way around to light the great torches on the walls.

Shepherd had fallen asleep at some point, completely relaxed, trusting him not to cause him unnecessary pain, trusting him to see him in such a vulnerable position, and he cherished that ounce of trust.

…

Raphael smiles down at the boy, raising his hand when his small hands reach for it, diving in with the other, wiggling his fingers in his belly playfully, Shepherd shrieks softly in bright laughter, arching his back slightly, laying between the Archangel’s legs, his own stretched around behind the older angel’s back, to keep his slowly healing feet from coming to harm.

He reaches for the Archangel’s hand, and he pulls is away, diving back in with his other, attacking his belly once more, and he shrieks again, arching his back once more, squealing softly, when the fingers of both hands claw into his ribs, before skittering down his sides, and thumbs dig into his hips.

Shepherd knows he’s _never_ laughed like _this_ before. Freely and brightly. Without fear of retribution for it. He’d never done _this_ with Yosef. His _guardian_ had never tickled him, but his friends had, to keep his spirits up, they said.

But, his _new_ guardian had _no_ reservations about it, this was the _third_ time this _week_ , that he’d been pulled into this position and attacked.

He squeals again when those fingers climb back up his sides and claw back into his ribs, wrapping his arms around himself as best as he can, his brain not fully recognizing the fact that he was only trapping the clawing fingers where they were, the very spot he was trying to protect.

“So,” his too busy focusing on just how _much_ it tickles to be alarmed by the new voice. “This is the boy that’s had your complete attention for the last week and a half.”

The Healer looks up from the boy squirming around in front of him, not pausing his attack in the slightest. “Yes, it is, Oren.”

Oren smiles, tilting his head as he looks down at the red-faced youngling, nodding lightly. “It’s good to see Shepherd smiling, let alone _laughing,_ when he comes, he’s usually rushing to get through his treatment so he can leave, always with a note of fear and tension.” He looks away from the softly squealing boy and back to his Archangel. “Did someone finally bring our suspicions to you?”

Raphael frowns lightly, he hadn’t known there had been suspicions from other, he’d have to address this silence immediately. “No, _he_ came to _me_ for help, collapsed on top of me, seeing how bad off his feet were, I was surprised he’d made it all the way here like he had.” He reaches back to push the boy’s right leg back when he feels it move, and digs his fingers into his inner thigh, eliciting another soft shrill squeal from him. “There were suspicions, and nobody _told_ me?”

The Virtue raises his hands. “In my defense, I though you already knew, and things had been taken care of.”

“It’s a _weak_ defense, but I’ll let you have it, things _have_ been taken care of, now.” He hums, turning his hand to dig his fingers into the inside of the boy’s other thigh. “Though nothing’s official until the Council comes to it’s conclusion, they’ve never disagreed with me when it comes to these matters, if I have my way, his old guardian will _never_ see the light of day _again_.” He looks up to his Virtue. “His wings were a _trocious_. I’ve _seen_ abuse before, this isn’t my first case, but _that_ wasn’t abuse, _that_ was _torture_.” He moves his hands when the boy just barely manages to curl his fingers around his wrists, and claws his fingers into his belly, he squeals again, and arches his back once more. “ _But_ , no matter, he has a _new_ guardian, now. _One_ that will treat him _right_.”

“That was fast, who is it?”

The Healer smiles up at his Virtue. “Me.”

Oren snorts. “I wish him luck, then.” And, jumps away, laughing as he turns to make his leave, when the Archangel reaches out to smack him, before returning his fingers back to clawing at the boy’s belly.

He’s _not_ that bad.


	236. The Makings Of A Bomb (The Archangels & The Blacksmiths)

It wasn’t very often that the four Archangels managed to come together and join their blacksmiths in the furnace to watch them work, not that they didn’t like to, their work was interesting and entertaining, they were just busy individuals.

Michael stands at Elyon’s side, watching him engrave the new blade with the delicate runes, humming under his breath, impressed by the craftmanship.

Lucifer watches over Lassuarium’s shoulder as he configures the hot metal into the shape he desires it to be.

Gabriel and Raphael stand side by side, watching their own blacksmiths work together, turning slightly as Salathiel crosses over to the molten magma material and squats, reaching in deep, withdrawing a medium sized cylinder, still glowing from the intense heat it was under, and turn as he makes his way back to his workbench.

“Raph, what’s he making?”

“I haven’t the _slightest_ idea, Gabe.”

He sets the cylinder down, reaching for the pick above him, he bends over the glowing cylinder, his back glistening from sweat and smudged with soot.

“It appears he’s carving runes into whatever his creation is.”

“For what, though?”

The Healer shrugs, his guess is just as good as his is, he has no idea what it is.

Salathiel reaches under his work bench, pulling out a red and orange glowing jar, setting it on his work bench with a soft thunk.

“Is that…..Is that his _grace_?”

Raphael crosses his arms loosely. “It appears that way.”

They watch as dips the cylinder in his barrel of cool water and he steams as it cools instantly, and as he unscrews the jar’s lid, reaching in for the solidified glowing grace, feeding it into the cylinder creation.

Their eyes widen when there’s a small hum of grace, Elyon flits around at the sound, a scowl on his face. “Sala this is the _fourth_ time this week!”

They turn, shielding themselves with their wings, as was the blacksmiths way, the Archangels turn slightly, raising their hands to block most of the light as the cylinder full of molten grace explodes, turning to watch as the blacksmith is thrown back, his head turned slightly, splashing into the molten lake around them, they rush to the edge, though they can stand the heat around them, they can’t stand the heat of the molten material that makes up the lake of the furnace.

The other blacksmiths gather at a slower pace, shaking their heads in exasperation, crossing their arms when their brother finally surfaces, shaking his dreads out, swiping them back out of his face, as he bobs there in the churning molten materiel.

“Sala, you about gave them a heart attack.” Lassuarium breathes softly. “Come out before they have a meltdown.”

Nathanael snorts at his brothers side, elbowing him slightly. “Pun intended.”

Salathiel _laughs_ as he swims through the molten material, as though it was a lake of water, hoisting himself up onto the edge. “I almost had it that time!”

Elyon rolls his eyes. “It still exploded.”

“Aw, but explosions are a sign of progress, brother.” He yelps when Elyon kicks him off the edge and back into the molten magma. “Not _nice.”_ The drenched blacksmith thrusts a finger out at his brother. “ _Not_ _nice_.”

“Neither is constantly blowing things up.”

Salathiel climbs out of the magma again, this time rising to his feet, and stepping away from the edge, just in case they get any more ideas to shove him back in. “I don’t blow things up _constantly_.”

“At least once a _week,_ Sala.”

Raphael waves his hands slightly. “Wait, _wait_ , Salathiel, you’ve been making _explosives_?” His blacksmith makes a face, as though _contemplating_ how he should answer that question, and he points a finger at him. “The _truth_.”

“I mean, sure, it’s not so bad though, they’d don’t _all_ blow up.”


	237. Baby Koala (Thaddeus & Theo)

The first time he notices it, is just a few days after he’d come back, their new routine is still falling into place, Thaddeus is used to sharing his bed with others, Theo is not, but he makes no objections, curling up on his side, facing away from him, when they both turn in for the night, while he stays up a bit longer, going through the files for the newest intakes.

After a short while, though, the need to sleep overcomes him, and he leans over to set his files on his bedside table, spares Theo a glance, and dims the lamp, he doesn’t turn it off, not anymore, he doesn’t like the dark now, and he settles down, curling his left arm up over his face and his right arm over his belly, he allows the grip of sleep to pull him under.

He’s only asleep maybe an hour, two hours tops, when he feels it, fingers curling around his upper arm, and he awakens slightly, lifting his left arm just an inch, peering down to see what’s holding onto him, and he smiles. Theo’s turned towards him, his fingers around his arm, his nose brushing over his upper arm.

Thaddeus makes no comment, laying his left arm back down, and allows sleep to pull him down again.

…

He’s asleep on his side, in the midst of a dream, when he’s roused awake, something presses between his shoulders, and he peers around, smiling slightly, Theo’s pressing against his back, completely sound asleep, and he shakes his head, turning back around again, settling back down.

…

He’s asleep on his side, once again, facing the other angel this time, dozing lightly, not quite asleep but not quite awake. Something warm presses up against his chest, and he blinks his eyes open, tilting his head slightly, smiling down at him. Theo is sound asleep, having tucked himself up against his chest, and he hums softly, wrapping his arms around him, smiling when the younger angel sighs softly in comfort.

…

He’s sleeping on his stomach this time, sound asleep, stirring only at the feeling of something heavy climbing up on top of him, and he groans softly, opening his eyes slowly. Thaddeus looks down when something appears in the corner of his eye, a hand, he knows who’s sleeping on his back. He reaches for that hand, curling his fingers through his, and pulls the hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, he settles back down with the warm weight resting over his back.

…

“Ready for bed, little brother?” He turns, pressing a kiss to the younger angel’s forehead, and Theo smiles, nodding silently, yawning softly, and settles down against his side. “Ready, Thaddy.”


	238. Gaining A New Guardian (Raphael & Lahabiel)

He knew it was his time to leave when the guard came down the hall, keys jingling in their hand, and turned to stand in front of his cell door, entering the key into the key hole and twists, the tumblers in the lock coming undone, and the doors pulled open.

“Come on, Laha, down to the Warden’s office.”

He steps out of his cell, what little things he has in the small bag around his shoulder, the guard closes his cell door, curls his fingers lightly around his upper arm, and leads him down the hall to the end, where the Warden’s office lays in wait. He was getting a new guardian, his old one was found to be unsuitable, he was guaranteed that Thaddy took special care in finding good guardians for them to go to, but everyone could seem nice up front, so he was nervous, he likes to think Thaddy is fool proof, but he’s not infallible.

They stop in front of the door, and the guard knocks, waiting for the call from within to grant them entrance. It takes a moment, he hears talking, he’s not sure, he knows Thaddy’s voice, but the voice that responds is deeper then his is, and he frowns as he wonders who it could be. Then there’s the call that grants them entrance, and the guard reaches forward to open the door, pushing him in lightly, he glares at them over his shoulder, and they glare back, he still hasn’t been forgiven for biting that one guard, it was his fault, he told him not to get too close to his face.

“Laha, thank you for coming.” Ha, Thaddy, such a jokester, as if he had a _choice_. “Come take a seat.”

Lahabiel nods, stepping away from the door way, his eyes drawn to the African American man sitting in a chair across from the Warden, leaning against the left armrest, he tries to place who they are, but shakes his head, turning his attention to Thaddeus as he falls back to sit in the chair across from him.

“Okay, so you’re being released, as I’m sure you know.” Thaddy looks up at him and smiles. “You’ve also been found a new guardian, your old one will be held accountable for their treatment of you, the council takes maltreatment very seriously.” The man next to him hums softly. “Any questions?”

“Can..Can I stay with you, Thaddy?”

Thaddeus hates it when they ask, he hates having to tell them no, it breaks his heart to see the devastation that crosses their features when he denies them what they want.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry, Laha, but you can’t. But, I found you a new guardian, he’s real nice, has a big heart, loves giving tickles just as much as I do, he’ll take good care of you.” He gestures to the man sitting next to him. “Laha, this is Raphael.”

 _Raphael._ Lahabiel turns quickly, the man next to him smiles lightly. “You’re an _Archangel_!”

Raphael chuckles softly. “Last time I checked, that’s what I was.”

He stares at him, pointing to himself. “And, you want to be my _guardian_?”

The Archangel nods lightly. “I do, if you’d have me.”

“Well,” Thaddeus interrupts, shuffling papers around in his file. “He doesn’t really have much of a choice, but sure, pretend to give him the option.”

Lahabiel turns back to look at the Warden. “ _Seriously?”_

He nods lightly. “Yes, _seriously_ , he asked who was being released soon because he wanted to take them in, and you were the only one. He’s a bit grumpy,” the Archangel next to him hums deeply and Thaddeus smiles. “But he’s real nice. He’s already signed everything, so you’re good to go,” he holds his file out to the Archangel, and he leans forward to take it, slowly rising from his chair, Laha rises with him. “I’ll come see you in a week to see how you’re settling in.”


	239. In The Search For Abba (Moriah & Zander)

He knows he’s not supposed to leave the cottage in the middle of the night while Moriah is working, he knows that, and he’s usually asleep for the night until he returns early the next morning, but this night was different. This night he had a nightmare, he’d taken his octopus and climbed into Moriah’s bed, trying to take comfort in being curled up in the blankets that smelled like him, but it hadn’t helped, he wanted Moriah to hold him, he wanted Moriah to curl his arms around him and tell him it was okay.

So, he left the cottage, he had to find him, it was still too fresh on his mind, he didn’t want to be alone now. He was scared to be all by himself, he wanted Moriah, Moriah would know how to make it all better.

He takes the steps up to the Infirmary, one at a time, as silent as the night, his beloved stuffed octopus hugged close to his chest. Stepping into the Infirmary, he feels tears burn in his eyes, it’s so _big_ and there’s _so_ many people and he doesn’t know how he’s going to find Moriah in here with there being so many people and the place being so big and he just _really_ wants Moriah.

“Who are you looking for, little one?” A large hand presses to the small of his back, and he jumps, looking up to see the Archangel standing behind him. “Can I help you find someone?”

He nods, holding his octopus tighter. “M—Moriah.”

“Right this way, little one, I know where he is.” The Archangel holds a hand out, gesturing for him to step forward, and he nods, walking with him behind a row of beds, and _there_ he is, writing on a chart in his hand, he calls out, running forward, away from the Archangel guiding him, and he looks up at the call of his name, his eyes widening in surprise. “Abba!”

“Zan?” He rams into him, one arm curled around his octopus and the other curled around his guardian, and he feels him sigh, a hand rubs down the back of his head. “Zan, what’s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream, abba, it was so bad, I was all alone and I kept calling for you and I couldn’t find you and when I woke up you weren’t there, and I tried to sleep in your bed, but it wasn’t the same and—and—”

“Sshhh, little octopus, it’s alright.” Moriah leans around, setting the chart and pen down on the desk next to him, curling his arms around the distraught youth curled around him. “It was only just a dream, I was coming back in a few hours, I’d never leave you, I love you too much to.”


	240. The Healer's Wrath (Raphael & Iaoth)

_“Iaoth! I’m going to kill you!”_

All eyes turn to the miracle worker sitting at Adonai’s side, as his eyes widen, and he scrambles to his feet. “This has been nice, but, I gotta scoot!” He bolts when the door of the Healer’s room is thrown open, throwing the screen door open as he runs for his life, and they turn in time to see Raphael run out after him. There’s a shout, the sound of a struggle, a yelp, and the screen door opens again, the thirdborn Archangel steps inside silently, Iaoth hanging over his shoulder, the youth looks up at them as they cross through the living room. “Mourn me, brothers, mourn me after my death!”

Tagas and Adonai laugh as they disappear down the hall. 

Michael shakes his head, looking down at the two of them. “What did he do?”

“He pranked Raph.”

Gabriel grimaces. “ _Big_ mistake.”

…

“So, how long did it take for you to copy my journal?”

Iaoth can’t help but giggles in his precarious position, the Archangel resting over his legs, staring at him with shining green eyes. “Two days.”

Raphael nods. “How _funny_ was it to hide my actual journal and burn the one you created, watching me watch _my entire life’s work_ go up in flames.”

“ _Priceless_.” The miracle worker snorts. “Dude, you looked like you were going to _cry_.”

“You’re going to die here today; I do hope you know that.”

“If the last thing I remember is watching you almost cry, then I’m okay with that.”

The Archangel snorts softly, shaking his head. “Keep digging your grave deeper, I don’t care.”

“You almost _cried_. I almost made an _Archangel_ cry.”

The miracle worker shrieks brightly when fingers dig into his belly, pressing his head back against the pillows behind him, trying to push the large hands away, to no avail. “Yes, and that Archangel is going to make _you_ cry.”

“Yohohohohohohou dohohohoon’t scahahahahahaare mehehehehee, yohohohohou gruhuhuhumpy ohohohohold mahahahhhahan!”

“Grumpy old man?” Iaoth realizes his mistake rather quickly. “Remember what I did to you the last time you called me that?”

His eyes widen. “Rahahahahaaph nohohohoho! Nohohohot thahahahahaat! Pleheheheheeease! I tahahahahhake ihihihihit bahahahahack! Nohohoho, pleheheheheease!” He curls his fingers around the Archangel’s hands as his fingers curl around the hem of his tunic, slowly pushing it up, he’s a huge tease, he’s an _asshole_ , who takes _pleasure_ in torturing him. “Pleheehehehehheease! Rahahahahhaaph I’m sohohohohohorry! Ihihihihi tahahhahahake ihihihihit bahahahahahahack! Yohhohohohohour nohohohohot ahahahahahaa gruhuhuhumpy ohohohohold mahahahhahan! Plehehehehehease nohohohohooho! Nohhoohhohohot thahahahhahaat!”

“Look at you, I’m not even _doing_ anything, and you’re _already_ losing it.” He presses his hands to the boy’s shaking belly, and laughs softly, when he shrieks again. “I’m just resting here, what’s that shriek for?”

“Yoohohour hands ahahare freeehehehheheezing! Warm’em up! Rahahaph, warm’em up!”

Raphael shakes his head in amusement, raising his hands slightly, pulls at his grace, and presses his hands back down. “Better?”

“Yehehees! Thahahank yohohou!”

“You’re welcome, now, about that _‘grumpy old man’_ comment.” Iaoth shakes his head, trying to cover his belly with his hands, and the Archangel chuckles. “You think that will work; did it work last time?”

“Ihihihihit woohohhohohould hahahahhaave ihihihihif yohohohohou wehehehehheeren’t ahahhahahaa cheheheheheater!”

“You kept _hitting_ me and I gave you _fair_ warning!” He curls his fingers around the boy’s wrists. “I’m _still_ a cheater.” He presses his hands down on the bed they lay on, using his grace to hold them down, Iaoth struggles against his hold, tugging at his arms as much as he can. “Now, let’s get in some rectification for insulting me age and demeaner, I am not a _‘grumpy old man’_.”

Iaoth eyes widen when he lowers himself towards his bare belly, straining in the confines of his grace, tugging on his arms as much as he can, shrieking brightly when warm lips press just under his belly button. “Rahahahahaaph! Ihihihihi’m sohohohohohoorry! Ihihihii’m sohohohohorry! Plehehehehheease nohohohohot thahahahhaat! Plehehehehehehhease! Thahhahahhaat’s sohohohoho bahahahhahahaad! Rahahahahhaaph pleheheheheease! Mehehehehheercy! Hahahahahave mehehehheercy ohohohohon thihihihihis yohohohohohoung fohohohohohohoolish sohohoohohohohoul!”

The Archangel chuckles softly. “ _No_ mercy for this young foolish soul.”

The miracle worker squeals brightly when he takes a deep breath and blows a long heavy raspberry in his belly, cackling brightly when he takes another breath and blows an equally bad raspberry again, and again, and again. “EEIEIEIEIIEIIAIAIAAIAIAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA RAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAPH PLEHEHEHEHHEEEEIEIIEIEIIEAIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! IHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHHOHOHOHOHORRY NOHOHOHOHOHOEOEOEEEEIEIIEIEIIAIAIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHA NNAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHANNNNAAAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAAA! STOHHOHOHOHOHHOHOP NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAHHAAT NOHOHOHHOHOT THOHOHOHOSEEEEIIEIEIEIIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! RAHAAHAHHAHAHAAPH IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOHOORRY! IHIHIHHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOOORRRYYY AHAHHAHAHABOUT YOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR JOHOHOHOHOHOHOOURNAL! IHIHIHIHIHI’M SOOHOHOHOHOHOHORRY FOHOHOHOHOHOR CAHAHAHHAHAHAALLLLLIIHIHIHIHIHEIEEHHEEHEHEHHEAHHHEHAHAHAHAHAHAAA YOHOHOHOHOOU AHAHHAHHAHAAHHAHHA GRUHUHUHUHUHUMPYYHYHYHYAYAAYAHAHHAHAAHHAAHAHA OHHOHOHOHOHOOLD MAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAN! EEIEIEIIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M GOOHOHOHHOHOHOHOING TOHOHOHOHOHO DIHIHIHIHIIE!”

The Archangel laughs softly, looking up at him, and he giggles feverishly, his belly tingling still. “You’re being dramatic, I’m _not_ going to let you _die_ , I’d be a bad Healer if I allowed that to happen.”

“Thahahahaat mahahhahaakes mehehehhee feehehehehheell sohohohoho muhuhuhuch behehheeetter, thahahhaank yohhohohohohohou!”

Raphael raises an eyebrow at the boy’s sarcasm. “We can go again, if you’re going to be sarcastic with me.”

Iaoth shrieks, shaking his head. “Noohohohohoho! Nohohohoho I’m sohohohohoorryy! Nohhoohohot ahhahahahhaagain! Pleheheheheease nohohohhot ahahahhahaagain! I’m sohohohoorryyy!” He moves his legs slightly, as much as he can under the Archangel laying over them, and tugs on his arms again. “Nohohohot ahahaahahagain! Pleehheheheheeease Rahahhahahaaph, nohohohohot ahahahhahaaagain!”

“I think we need to go again. Just to be sure there’s no more sarcasm.”

“Buhuhuhut saahahahhahaarcaahahahahahasm ihihihihihis myhyhyhyhy pehehehheeeoples nahhahhahhaative lahahahhahaanguage!”

His pseudo guardian, actual guardian, they’re still working out the fine details to this arrangement they have, actually _laughs_. Deep, amused laughter. He has his soft laughter, his chuckles, he has that, but _this_ isn’t that, he’s _actually_ laughing. “Sarcasm is your peoples native language?”

The miracle worker takes a deep breath to calm his giggling down, and nods, smiling down at his Archangel guardian. “Yes, it is! You should _hear_ Tagas! Sarcasm is all that comes out of his mouth, I swear!”

“ _Really,_ Tagas, you, I understand, I know you, but _Tagas_?”

“I _swear_! He _mocks_ you too, all the time! And, let me tell you, his impression of you is _spot on_!”

“Do _you_ have an impression of me?”

The youngling stares at him for a moment. “For my personal wellbeing, I don’t think I want to answer that question, skip, next question please.”

“I _know_ you make faces at me when my back is turned.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

They stare at each other for a long moment of tense silence, Iaoth smiles at him, and he returns the smile in kind. “We’re going again.” And buries his face in the boy’s belly.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO! WHYHYHYHYHY! IHHIHIHIHIHIHIIHII DIHIHIHIHIHIDN’T DOHOHOHOHO AAHAHAHAHHAHAAANYTHIHIHIHIHIHIING! EEIEIEIEIIEIAIIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA NNNAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHHAHAAGAIN EEEIEIEIIEAIAIAIAIAAIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA RAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAPH PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEAEEEAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHAHAHAAGAIN! IHIHIHIHIHIHI DIHIHIHIHIIDN’T DOHOHOHOHO AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAANYTHING! PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEEEIEIEIEIAIIAIAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEERE! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEHEERE! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAHAHAAT SPOHOHOHOHOHOHOTT EIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHEAEHEAEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEAASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHHAHAAN’T! STOHOHOHOHHOOP! EEIEIEIIAIAAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR SOHOHOHOHOHO MEHEHEHEHHEHAHAAN TOHOHOHOHO MEHEHEHEHEHEHEE! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’M AHAHHAHAHAHAHAA FREHEHEHHEHEAAKING AHAHHAHAHAANGEEHEHEHEHEHHEEL AHAHAHAHHAHAAND YOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR AHAHAHAHAHHAAA FREHEHEHEHEAKING MOHOHOHOHONSTER! EEIEIEIAEIAIAIAAIAAAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHANNNAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA!”

Raphael laughs again, looking up at him. “Did you just call me a monster; did you just call an _Archangel_ a monster?”

“You’re hearing things man, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say my guardian angel drinks.”

“You think I drink?”

“You’re my guardian?”

“Oh course, I’m your guardian, you’re only fifteen.”

“And, I know for a _fact_ you drink, _sir_ , I _found_ that bottle of _scotch_ in your desk.”

“What were you doing going through my desk?”

“Lookin’ for something to drink.”

“Iaoth, _no_.”

“You know what, I’ve just learned something, you want to know what it is?”

“Let me hear it.”

“Note to self: just because it pops into my head does _not_ mean it should come out of my mouth.”

His apparent guardian chuckles softly. “I’m proud that you’ve learned that.” Iaoth shrieks brightly when he wiggles his fingers into his sides. “I didn’t realize how much I _missed_ being hands on. I’ve been using my grace for so long. I’d forgotten.” He flutters his fingers up over the boy’s belly and pauses, looking up at him. “Do you know what I’m going to do now?”

“Don’t you do it, Raph, don’t you dare!”

“Don’t I dare _what_?”

“You _know_ what?”

“I do not, tell my what I shouldn’t dare do.”

“Do the claws!”

“Do the claws? If that’s what you want.”

Iaoth’s eyes widen when he realizes he’s been tricked. “Wait! No! NO! EEEEEIEIEIEIIEIAIAIIAIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHHEHEE CLAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAWS NOHHOHOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHHOOSE PLEEHEHEHHEHHEEEASE! EEEEIEIEIAIAIIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHI HAHAHAHHAHAHAATE THOHOHOHOHOSE! AAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAAHHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! RAHAHAHAHAHHAAAPH! PLEHEHEHEHHEEIEIEIIAIIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! EEIEIEEIIEIAIIAIAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHHAAN’T! IHIHIHIHIHIIHI’M DYHYHYHYHYHYIING! IHIHIHIHIHII’M GOHOHOHOHOHOHOING TOHOHOHOHOHO DIHIHIHIHIHIIHIE! EEIEIEIIEAIIAIAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA PLEEHEHEHEHEHHEAHHEAAAHAASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHII CAHAHAHHAHAAAN SEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEE THEHEHEHEHEHEHEE LIHIHIHIHIHIHIGHT! AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AANANANANAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHAHAHA FAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHATTHER IHHIHIHIHIHIS THAHAHAHHAHAAT YOOHHOHOHOHOHOU! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA ANANANAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHEEHEAEEEIIEIAIIAAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA UHUHUHUHUNCLE DEHEHEHHEHHEEATH! IHIHIHIHIHIHI COHOHOHOHOHOHOME WIHIHIHIHIIHILLINHINGLY! EEIEIEEIAIIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA TEHEHEHHEHEELL MYHYHYHYHY BROHHOHOHOHOHOTHER’S IHIHIHIHIHIHII’LL MIHIHIHIHIHISS THEHEHEHEEM! GOHOHOHOHOHOODBYHYHYYE CRUEHEHEHHEHEEL WOHOHHOHOHORLD!”

The Archangel laughs again, patting his belly lightly. “You’re _not_ dying.”

“I can feel the end drawing nearer and nearer.”

“So,” the Healer rubs his belly lightly. “I want you to learn _why_ it’s in your _best_ interest _not_ to prank _me_.” Iaoth stares down at him when he looks up. “As the Healer, I know _everything_ when it comes to torturing young angels.”

“You know _everything,_ huh?”

“I do.”

“What am I thinking, then?”

He levels a look on the youngling under him. “That I _don’t_ know everything.”

The miracle worker groans and throws his head back. “ _How!”_

“I’m a mind reader.”

“You’re a cheater, is what you are!”

“Probably.” Iaoth watches his hands carefully as they slowly slide down to his sides, just above his hips, and he bites his lip. “Anyway, as I was saying, I know _everything_ there is to know, for example, I know there’s a _bad_ spot right _here_.” The young angel shrieks brightly when he squeezes into his lower sides, just above his hips, smiling as he archs his back, pressing his head back into the pillows, he looks over, watching him strain against the hold he has on his arms. “I can _feel_ your grace pushing at mine, you all are _surprisingly_ strong, I _really_ have to get into that subsection more, there’s _so_ much _potential_.”

“Eeieieeiieiaiaiaiaiaaaahahahahhahahahahhaa ahahahahahahhahahahahahahaahahaaa looohohohohohohohooks cahahahahhaaan beehehehehhehehhee dehehehehheceiving! Eeieieieiaiiaiaaaahhahahahhahahahhahahahaa ahahahahhahahahahahahaha aeieieieiiaiaaiaaaahahahahhahahhahahahahaaa! Nohohohohohot theheheheheheheheere plehehehehheheease! Ihihihihi dihihihihihidn’t ehehehehheeven knohohohohohow thahahahahahat wahahahhahaas theheheheheheheeere! Aaahahahahahhahahhahahaaa thahahahahaat’s whahahhahahat maahahahahahhahaakes uhuhuhuhuhuhuus sohohohohoho dahahahahahahaangerohohohohous! Eiiaiaiiaiaiaiaaaaahhahahahahahhahahahahaaa beheheheheheetter beehehehehehhehee cahahhahahhaarefuuhuhuhuhuhul wehehehehehee dohhohohohohon’t rehehehehhehehevooohohohohoolt aahahahahahahahahhahahahaa aaahahahahhahahahahhhaahaaaa!”

“Look’s can most certainly be deceiving.” He frowns as the last comment resonates in his mind. “You’ve thought about revolting?” He pauses his attack, waiting until the boy catches his breath, and gets his giggling under control. “You’ve considered that?”

The miracle worker looks down at him. “You can only take so much before you snap.”

“That is highly concerning, thank you for bringing this to my attention, I will look into this immediately.”

“We just…..We want someone to treat us with _decency_. Not like…Not like we’re some sort of rodent or…or blemish. Is that too much to ask? Just for a little bit of _decency_? We’re…We’re _no_ different than _anyone_ else. _What_ did we do to be treated as though we’re worth _less_ than the dirt on the bottom of your boot? What crime…What _crime_ did we commit?” Iaoth takes a deep breath, this is clearly important for him to get out, and he listens patiently, absorbing every word, taking it all in, this is not the feelings of a single person that are being voiced, these are the feelings of an entire _people_ being voiced. “You all…..You all are the first ones to treat me, Adonai, and Tagas like we’re _people_ , and not just _things_. Not just…Not just a _cow to milk_ when you need more grace for your supply. That…That we’re not just a _means to an end_. We just, god, we just want _someone_ to show us that we _matter_.”

“You _do_ matter, Iaoth, _all_ of you do. There are going to be changes, _major_ changes, the treatment you all receive is _appalling_ , and it will be addressed _immediately_.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

The young miracle worker smiles at him. “Thanks, okay, oh mighty Archangel, you can continue on with your torture.” He huffs softly. “Show me all you know, you don’t scare me, do your worst.”

“Do my _worst_?”

“Bring it on.”

“Alright, I accept your challenge.” The Healer nods, sliding his fingers under the top of the boy’s tunic, his fingers resting on his highest ribs. “Here’s another spot.”

Iaoth shrieks brightly when he digs his fingers in, arching his back again, throwing his head back as laughter explodes from him. Inhaling deeply, he takes a breath, and bites his lip, shaking his head.

“Oh, you’re going to try and hold back on me now?”

He nods, biting his lips harder, clenching his eyes tightly.

“Now, that just won’t do.” He digs his thumbs in harshly. “That just won’t do at all.” The boy shrieks again, laughter bursting from him, as the Healer’s thumbs dig into his highest ribs. “That’s much better.”

“Raahahahahhahaaaph stoohhohohohohhohohop! Aaahahahahahahhahahhahahhhahhahahhaa eeieieieieiaiiaaiaaahahahahahahahahaha aahahahahahahhahahahaannnaaahahahahahahhahahahha stohohohohhohoop! Plehehehehehheeease! Ihihihihiit’s sohohohohoho bahahahahahhahad! Whyhyhyhyhy ahahahahahaare yohohohohohou lihihihike thihihhihihihis! Eeieieiiaiaiaaaahahahhaahhahahhahahaa aahahahahahahhahahahaha anaanaaaahhahhahahhahahahahahaha! Iihihihihihihihi rehehehheegret chahahahahahahahaalleeehehheenging yohohohohohou! Bihihihihig rehehehehehegrets! Aaahahahhahhahahahahhahahaha pleheheheheheeease! Gohohohohohohooo! Aaaahahahahahhahahahahaa aeeieieieieiaiaiaaaahahahahahahahhahahhahahaa sohohohohomewheheheheheheere eeheheheheheelse! Gohohohohoho sohohohohomewheheheheheheere ehehehheeelse! Eeeieieieieiaiiaiaiaaahahahahahahahahahhaaa yohhohohoohour sohohohohoo cruhuhuhuhueel!”

“Go somewhere else?”

“Yeehehehehhehehehes! Pleheheheheheease! Ihihihihihit’s sohohohoho bahahahhahaad theheheheheere! Iihihhihihihhit’s sohohohoho bahahahahhahaad!”

“Fine, I’ll go somewhere else, I have _plenty_ of places.” Raphael looks down at the boy’s belly, letting him have a moment to catch his breath, only a moment, he’s been challenged, after all. He curls his hands around the boy’s sides, posing his fingers on the sides of his belly. “Here’s a good spot.” And claws his fingers in.

The youth jolts under him, squealing brightly, his fingers curling tightly, the only movement he can give in his arms. “EEEIEIEIEIEAIAIIAAAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA WWHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAT IHHIHIHIHIHIIS THIHIHIHIHIS WIHHIHIHIITCHCRAHAHAHAHAAFT! WHYHYHYHYHYHY! YOHOHOHOHOHOU SHOHOHHOHOHOULDN’T EHEHEHEHEENJOHOHOHOY TOHOHOHHOHOORTUHUHUHUHURING PEHEHEHEHEOPLE! EEEIIAIAIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHAAHAHAHA NNNAANAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA STOHOHHOHOHOHOP! STOHOHHOHOHHOP! GOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHHAACK GOHOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHHAHAACK! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEEHEHERE! THEEHEHEHEHEHEHEEERE IHIHIHIHIHIS SOHOHOHOHO MUUHUHUHUHUCH WOHOHHOOHORSE! HOHOHOHOHOHOHOOW EHEHEHEHHEEEVEN! HOHOHOHOHOW IHIHIHIHIHIHIS THIHIHIHIHISS SOHOHOOHOHO UHUHUHUNBEHEHEHAHAHHAHAARABLE! IHIHIHIHIT MAHAHHAHAHAAKES NOHOHOHOHO SEHEHEHEHENCE! EIEIEIEIAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAA HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAA HAHAHAHHAHAHAHEHHEEHEIEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA STOHOHOHHOHHOHHOOP! IHIHIHIHII TAHAHAHAHAAKE BAHHAAHAHACK MYHYHYHYHY CHAHAHAHAHAALLEHEHEHEENGE! IHIHHIHIHI TAHAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIT BAHAHAHAHAHAACK!”

“Nope, sorry, can’t back a challenge once it’s given.”

“IHIHIHIHIHII REHEHEHEGREEHEHEHEHEET AHAHAHAHAHAALL MYHYHYHYHY LIHIHIHIHIIFE CHOHOHOHOICES!”

The Archangel hums softly. “Do you regret waking me up?”

“OHOHOHOOKAY! NOHOHOHOHOT AAHHAHAHAHAALLLL OHOHOHOHOF THHEHEHEHEEM! OHOHOHOHONLY THEHEHEHE OHOHOHONES IHIHIHIHIN THEHEHEHHEE LAHAHAHHAAST TWOHOHOHO MIHIHIHIHINNUTEES!”

“That’s understandable. I’m the _wrong_ one to challenge.”

“IHIHIHIHIHIHIII NEHEHEHEHEEED AHAHHAHAHA MIHIHIHIHHIHIINUTE! PLEHEHEHEHEEASE! AAHAHAHAHAHAA MIHIHIHINUTE!”

He hums softly once more, but brings his attack to a stop, letting the boy giggle and pant viciously. Iaoth takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and exhales slowly, catching his breath, and looks down at him, his bright blue eyes shining. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m a _what?_ ” He twitches his fingers and the boy shrieks, his eyes widening, shaking his head. “ _What_ am I?”

“A wonderful person! A wonderful amazing person!”

“That’s what I _thought_ you said.”

“Can I _please_ have my hands back?”

“Since you said please, you may.”

The miracle worker lifts his arms, pressing his hands over his face. “You’re the _worst_! The _absolute_ worst!” He rubs at his face, and throws his arms away, looking down at him for a moment, before reaching down with his hands to curl them around his face. “Can we please be done?”

“Are you ever going to prank me again?”

“I’m not going to lie, probably.”

Raphael smiles. “I expected as such.” He pats him on the belly, pushing himself up. “Let’s go join the others.”

“Can I ride on your back?”

The Archangel turns, pushing himself up to his feet, and nods, gesturing for him to come from over his shoulder. Iaoth grins, scrambling to his feet on the Healer’s bed, and jumps forward. Raphael grunts from the impact, but he couldn’t care less, and wraps his arms around his neck. “Onward, noble steed!”

“I’m questioning my life choices.”

“Including me?”

“ _Because_ of you.”


	241. A Comprehensive Guide For The Care Of Miracle Workers

  1. **They do not like using their craft, in fear of persecution, insult, or assault. Acknowledge, compliment, and encourage them when they do, make sure they know they did something good, and that it was appreciated.**



Iaoth was barely paying attention to Raphael and Oren talk between themselves behind him, only half eavesdropping, focusing on the sketch of Akriel at his desk he was working on, the Healer had gotten him a sketchbook when he’d started noticing a pile of exquisite sketches and drawings in the top left drawer of his desk, it had been the first gift he’d _ever_ received, and he _loved_ it.

Something catches his attention. A word. A mere word.

“It’ll be a miracle if he ever walks again.”

“Indeed, it would be, the sword hit a nerve in his lower spine, so the chances are _very_ slim. I’m going to continue monitoring it. But I’ll have to inform him of this _extremely_ likely possibility when he wakes tomorrow.”

“He’s going to be devastated, all he ever wanted to be was a warrior, he’d worked so hard for it, and it’s been taken from him, at such a young age too. My heartbreaks for him.”

“Mine does too, Oren, pray to Father that He is in the mood for working a miracle for this young one.” He hears Raphael sigh. “He’s going to need it.”

He hums softly to himself, shading in Akriel’s beard, he freaking _hates_ that thing, _just_ as much as he hates Oren’s, they’re two large assholes who manage to always find a way to pin him down and rub their beards all over his belly, because they _know_ he can’t stand it, and they’re _assholes_ , Raphael _too_ , for _telling_ them about his _sensitivities_.

_A miracle, huh?_

He hears them walk away, Oren to return to his duties and Raphael to check in on his other patients, and he waits a few minutes, just to be sure there’s no way anyone would notice, and then he looks up, looking around the room.

The thing about Miracle Workers is that they can blend, they’re in plain sight, but no one ever takes notice of them, angels and humans alike. The humans just don’t know they’re there, or if they can see them, _what_ they are. The angels just don’t acknowledge them and their presence.

So, no one bats an eye, when he pushes his chair back, sets his pencil down, and slowly rises to his feet. Chancing another glance around, just to be sure, he moves out from behind the desk, making his way through the rows of beds silently and slowly, cautiously maintaining awareness of his surroundings, and comes to stand at the paralyzed angel’s bed. They’re sleeping, unaware of his presence, snoring softly, peacefully, unknowing of the true extent of his injuries.

Iaoth looks around once more before looking down at the sleeping angel before him. “Miracles do happen.” He raises his hand slightly.

Oren looks over at the right moment, having turned to check on the youngling sitting at the Archangel’s desk working on a work of art, and concern overcomes him when he doesn’t see the youth sitting there, his pencil and sketchbook abandoned, and skims over the heads of the healers slowly making their rounds, looking for the familiar head of curls. He stares, stares at what he’s witnessing, he’s _never_ seen a miracle worker use their power and abilities, he knew little of what they were capable of, the only ones who knew were the other miracle workers, and no one was ever privileged enough to know their secrets.

Iaoth says something to the sleeping patient before him, and raises his hand, it hovers just above their patients waist, his hand shimmers, a light purple hue flows over his hand, and slowly, he moves it down the length of the paralyzed angel’s legs.

Just as soon as he saw it, it was gone, Iaoth slouched in on himself, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trousers, gives a quick look around, and turns, making his way back to the Archangel’s desk, completely unnoticed by the healers moving about around him, and sits himself back down, picks his pencil up, and returns to his project, as though nothing had ever happened.

The Virtue turns at the movement, his eyes widening when the patient in the bed, the _paralyzed_ patient in the bed, smacks their lips lightly, turns over on their side, and _curls_ his legs up under him.

The angel _paralyzed from the waist down_ moved his legs, paralysis, something not even they could heal, and yet, here he was, supposed to be _unable_ to move his legs, _moving_ his legs. No one but the miracle workers knew how strong they were, and seeing this, this _miracle healing_ right before his eyes made him realize just as to why it was the miracle workers grace that was wrongfully sought after when their supply was running low.

Dropping his charts heavily on Akriel’s desk, he turns, ignoring the questioning look sent his way by the mental specialist, and slowly makes his way through the beds, staring at the youngling seated at the Archangel’s desk completely unaware of the audience he’d had.

“Iaoth,” he stands at the side of the desk and the youth doesn’t so much as spare him a glace as he shades in Akriel’s hair. “Did you _heal_ that trainee?”

“I have _no_ idea _what_ you’re talking about.”

Oren nods silently, not wanting to push the youngling’s temper without his Archangel there to keep it reigned in, and turns, watching the sleeping angel kick his leg slightly in his slumber, caught up in a dream.

All the attending healers, even the Archangel, is surprised come morning, when the _paralyzed_ angel awakens, turns in his bed, stands, and walks to the nearest healer to ask where the bathroom was.

Oren makes his way to stand at his Archangel’s side, and Raphael shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest loosely. “Father worked a miracle last night, Oren, a true miracle.”

His Captain hums softly. “It _wasn’t_ Father.” The Archangel turns to look at him questioningly, and he turns, his Archangel following his gaze, to the young miracle worker seated at the Healer’s desk, working on whatever inspiration came for this new piece of art. “ _He_ healed him.”

_“Iaoth?”_

He nods. “I watched him. I’ve _never_ seen a miracle worker work their magic before, it was, it was something.” They both ignore the fact that they’ve never seen it because they’ve never gone to see the miracle workers. “He _healed_ something that not even _you_ could heal, not completely, anyway.”

Raphael hums, stepping away from him, and he follows, a pace behind, as they approach the youngling sketching out the vague outline for whatever had entered his mind’s eye.

The Archangel leans against the front edge of his desk, reaching over to lift the youth’s head, a finger under his chin. “Iaoth, did you heal him?”

The miracle worker blinks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do too, you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about, give me the truth, did you heal him?”

Iaoth blinks again. “You said it would take a _miracle_. That’s kind of what _miracle workers_ specialize at.” He pulls away from the Archangel’s finger holding his head up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just…I just couldn’t let his _dream_ die.”

He’s surprised when his pseudo guardian, just regular guardian, he’s not sure, he’s still working all that out, but he’s surprised when he smiles down at him, caressing his cheek gently. “Iaoth, what you did is _amazing_. You saved that trainees _life_. Maybe not now, but later on down the road, you _saved_ his _life._ Why would you ever want to keep that a secret?”

Iaoth sighs softly, setting his pencil down, tilting his head slightly into the hand curled around his cheek. “Because, no one _likes_ it when we work our craft. Not the angels, anyway, they call is _disgusting_ and a _waste of time_.”

The Healer frowns lightly. “You don’t truly _believe_ that, do you?” Both Archangel and Captain give a soft sad sigh when he merely stares up at him. “Iaoth, _you_ healed something that not even _I_ can heal. That’s an _accomplishment_ , pardon my pun, but that’s a _miracle_.”

Oren steps up beside his Archangel. “How does it work, if you don’t mind me asking, miracle healing, how does it work?”

The young miracle worker sighs. “We can heal _anything_ if its _fresh_ or _active_ , we send cancer into remission, we gave the humans the knowledge to build devices that allows deaf humans to hear, we just do little things, miracles. If it only takes a miracle, a miracle _can_ happen. It’s hard sometimes though, because you _can’t_ help _everyone_ , you know, no matter how much you _want_ to, so when we pick, we pick _very_ carefully.”

Raphael smiles down at him. “Iaoth, I am so _proud_ of you.” He strokes his cheek with his thumb. “If you _ever_ want to help, you are _always_ welcome to, _never_ be _ashamed_ of what you can do.”

It’s kind of heartbreaking how the youngling _beams_ as bright as he does at the praise.

…

“I don’t know, brother, she just….she just couldn’t talk anymore. I don’t know what’s wrong. She’s terrified she won’t be allowed in my flock anymore, I’ve told her that there’s mute members in my flock, that they play instruments, but she wants to be able to _sing,_ it’s all she’s ever _wanted_ , to sing in my choir.”

Tagas sits on the edge of the choir angel’s bed, listening to Raphael and Lucifer talk to each other in hushed tones, staring down at his hands silently. He wants to help but he’s not sure how. He doesn’t want someone to lose their dream, to lose _all_ they’ve _ever_ wanted.

“Lucifer, brother, I’m sorry, but her vocal cords are cleanly severed, that’s _not_ something I can heal.”

He hears the Morningstar heave a sigh, he knows he’s rubbing at his face, as he does that when he doesn’t know what else to do or is too overwhelmed. “So, you’re saying, it would take some kind of miracle for her vocal cords to heal?”

“Unfortunately, yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Raph, there _has_ to be _something_ you can do!”

That catches his attention, and he curls his fingers together, _a miracle_ , miracles is what he does, he’s a miracle worker, even when he finally becomes a healer, as he’s always wanted, he’ll _always_ be a miracle worker, once a miracle worker, always a miracle worker, you _never_ lose that knowledge.

Tagas reaches up slowly, rubbing at his scarred rumpled neck, and turns to look at the choir angel sitting next to him on the bed, tears making her cheeks glisten, that’s not right. One shouldn’t lose their dream so soon, not when they’re so close, it’s not right. Dreams are what make the world whole. One should always have the chance to reach for their dream.

Nodding to himself, he’s used to the insults and looks of disgust, he’s used to the assaults for doing such a thing, but _miracles_ are what he _does_.

Slowly, he raises his hand, reaching over, his hand overcome with a soft glowing amber hue, and the choir angel looks over at him in alarm.

He smiles, trying to offer comfort. “You should get your dream.” And curls his hand around her throat.

She stares at him with wide eyes, as his warm grace seeps into her throat, and both Archangels look over when she gasps softly.

“ _What_ is he _doing_?” Lucifer makes to step forward, but Raphael stops him with a quick grab of his arm, shaking his head when the elder turns to look at him. “He’s healing her.”

“But, I thought you said there was nothing you could do!”

“There isn’t anything _I_ can do, we don’t know much about miracle healing, how it works, Iaoth explained that they can heal _anything_ so long as it’s _fresh_ or _active_.” The Healer hums softly. “He’s going to be a _great_ healer.” He frowns lightly when the youth pulls his hand away to rub at his scarred neck. “He’s been doing that an awful lot recently, I’ll have to massage the skin, it must be irritating him.”

Tagas rests his hands in his lap, staring at the floor, not at the choir angel who’s staring at him at his side. He stiffens, raising his arms slightly, a defensive gesture, they know what those look like, when she throws herself at him, hugging him tightly, thanking him softly, and he only nods.

Lucifer hums lowly. “He expected to be harmed for it.”

Raphael nods, giving a sad sigh. “He did.”

The Morningstar nods, stepping forward, curling his cool pale hand under the miracle workers chin, lifting his head up, and smiles down at him. “Thank you, little one, pun completely intended, what you did for her is a _miracle_. We are forever grateful.”

…

Adonai listens, hidden in the shadows of the doorway, to the voices within the second oldest Power’s room, Nisroc and Puriel, they’re trying to be quite, but he can hear them.

“Nis, I’m not going to lie, he’s in really bad shape. He’s fallen into a coma. The poison will reach his heart by morning. And when that happens….When that happens—”

“ _Don’t_ say it.”

“Nisroc, _when_ that happens, he _is_ going to die.”

“There has to be _something_ Raph can do! I _can’t_ lose my little brother _again_ , Puri, I _can’t_.”

“Nis, I’m sorry, Zed and him are _still_ trying to figure out what the poison is, I _hate_ to say it, but I _doubt_ they’ll have an antidote by morning. The others have already said their goodbye, I recommend you do the same, I’m sorry. It would take a miracle to stop the poison from reaching his heart without an antidote, and I’m sorry for not believing, but miracles _don’t_ happen.”

Adonai clenches his fists at his sides, he doesn’t _want_ to lose Abraxos, he _likes_ him, he taught him something new every day, he was always tickle attacking him, but that was just a part of the package, and he didn’t _really_ mind those playful attacks.

_Miracles do happen, Puri, or else we wouldn’t exist._

He waits, hidden in the shadows, for the two massive Powers to leave the second eldest’s room, looks down the hall, then up, and steps forward, out of the shadows, and slips into Abraxos’ room. He looks like he’s _already_ dead, he’s pale and limp, but he can see the light rise and fall of his chest. He crosses the room silently, incase anyone passing by is listening for noise that shouldn’t be in the comatose Power’s room.

Adonai looks down at the large Power’s peaceful face. “Puri’s wrong Abe, miracles _do_ happen.” He looks over his shoulder quickly, reaching out with his hand, it glows an icy blue hue, and he curls his hand around the Power’s forehead. “They _do_.” He smiles when Abraxos inhales deeply and retreats back to the shadows when he groans, someone was passing in the hall, and Titus pokes his head in, his eyes widening when the Power resting on the bed lifts his hand slowly, up to his forehead, and he yells down the hall for the others, rushing into the room when Abraxos slowly starts to sit up.

The young miracle worker smiles as the others clamor into the room to see if what Titus says is true, asking a thousand and one questions of their co-captain, crowding around him, sitting with him as he rubs at his eyes.

“How!”

His eyes widen when Abraxos turns his head, and their eyes meet, he shakes his head when he reaches a hand out to him, the Power beckons him closer with his fingers. The others watch him in confusion, not seeing what he sees, and make various sounds of surprise when their young protégé steps out of the shadows, he has _stealth_ down to a fine _art_.

Abraxos’ fingers curl around his forearm and he pulls him up on the bed with him, into his lap, and he wraps him in his arms. “ _Thank you, little warrior.”_

“Abe? ‘Nai?”

He ducks into the side of the second oldest Power’s neck as he turns to look up at the others. “ _Miracles_ do happen Puri, we’ve got a _miracle worker_ as our baby Power.”

  1. **They aren’t used to people being at their side, others throw scorn at them, look down up on them, it’s not common for someone to be _on_ their side. Make sure they know you’re there for them. **



His only intention had been to get a glass of water and then return to his bed, but he jumped, pressing a hand to his chest, when a soft sniffle came from the shadows in the empty living room. Forgoing his glass of water, Lucifer wandered cautiously for the source of the sniffling, the pale moonlight beamed through the window, and as he drew nearer, he saw the bright green eyes, just a shade off from his younger brother’s, looking up at him.

Tagas stares at him silently, his hands curled around the scarred side of his face, sniffling softly.

The Morningstar squats, to see him eye to eye, and the small miracle worker follows his movements cautiously. “What’s wrong, little one?”

“B—Burns…It b—burns…”

Lucifer hums softly. “Your scars?”

The boy nods slightly, a jerk of the head, movement must be painful for him at the moment. He watches him closely as he reaches out a hand, curling it around the scarred side of the boy’s head, his hands are always cool, his core is made of ice, he’s always cool. Tagas sighs softly, leaning into his touch, and he smiles lightly, rising from his position, he withdraws his hand for a moment, ignoring the boy’s whine at the loss of his cool compress, and sits behind him, leaning back in the corner of the couch, one leg stretched out over the length of the couch, and he gently pulls the boy down to rest over his chest, his entire person is cool to the touch, even through his clothes.

Tagas sighs again, his slight quaking slowly ceasing to be, at the coldness pressing to his burning scars. Lucifer brushes his fingers through his fiery red curls lightly. “We’ll have Raph give you something in the morning for the burning.”

The youngling sniffs softly, rubbing at his nose with the back of his left hand, before resting his hand on the Archangel’s chest. “Thanks, Luci.”

“I’m always here for you, little one.”

…

He comes across the boy laying on an empty bed, boots and socks discarded haphazardly around him, his scarred feet resting lightly on a pillow, his arms are covering his face, but he can see enough to see a grimace on his features.

“Iao,” the Healer calls out softly. “Do your feet hurt?”

Iaoth nods silently, and he hums, crossing in between the beds for a bottle of lavender oil in the bottom drawer of the cart.

Raphael sits at the foot of the bed, pulling the miracle workers left foot into his lap, pours a bit of oil into his hand, and massages his fingers over the boy’s scarred sole, rubbing deep soothing circles with his thumbs, and the miracle worker sighs softly, the tension melting from him as he lays there under the soothing ministrations.

“Thanks, Raph.”

He smiles slightly, rubbing at the boy’s heel. “I’m always here for you, little one.”

…

Michael had only come down to get himself a glass of water, that was all, nothing more, he just wanted a glass of water, before he returned to his bed and allowed blissful sleep to take hold of him again. He’s startled though, from the unexpected movement from the living room, and he jumps, spinning around to see what it is that had moved.

His eyes soften, a small smile overcoming his features, watching Adonai sit on the couch, huddled up, staring out the window at the stars.

The oldest gets his glass of water, downs it, and sets the glass down in the sink.

Silently, he crosses the threshold, there’s no need to announce himself, he knows the boy knows he’s there. They’re all very aware of their surroundings, the reasoning for it is saddening, but they were making the changes that needed to be made.

“Little ‘Nai,” he sits next to him on the couch. “What has you up so late, little one?”

The small miracle worker licks his lips, not breaking his gaze up at the stars, and sighs softly. “I can’t sleep.”

He hums softly. “What’s troubling you, little ‘Nai, that’s keeping you from your sleep?”

“I’ve….I’ve been having dreams.”

Michael hums, leaning back against the back of the couch. “About what, little warrior?”

Adonai pauses for a moment. “That you’ll all grow tired of us and we’ll be alone again. It was always just us. Iaoth, Tagas, and I, outcasts and….and…I’m scared that you’ll get tired of us and things will go back to the way they were.”

The Archangel hums, reaching out to touch the young angel’s cheek, drawing his attention away from the stars and their eyes meet. “Little one, things will never go back to how they were. The change will continue to grow, we will continue to ensure you’re all treated with the respect and decency that you deserve, that will never change.” He rubs his cheek with his thumb softly. “And, we could never forget about you, we care deeply for you, you three are our little ones. I’m afraid we’re all quite fond of you now, unfortunately, if you’re looking for a way out, you’ll find there is none, you all are stuck with us.”

The small angel smiles slightly. “Mean it?”

Michael returns his smile. “I do.” He holds his hands out to him. “Come, let’s get to bed, you can come sleep with me.”

Adonai smiles, a real smile this time, and scoots forward, to allow the Archangel to lift him up as he stands. “Thanks, Micha.”

He presses a fond kiss to the boy’s cheek. “I’m always here for you, little one.”

  1. **Insults are ingrained in them for their craft, they’re used to it, that’s what they expect as soon as someone sees them coming. Be sure to compliment them _at least_ once a day.**



Adonai sighed as the warm water soothed his aching muscles, resting silently against Nisroc’s side, comforted by the feeling of his arm curled down around his front, listening to the others talk about their day, playing with the bubbles they always added for him. Abraxos says something, rubbing lightly at his feet under the water, resting in the second oldest Power’s lap. Absently, only half paying attention, he holds his left hand above the pile of bubbles he’d collected, pulling lightly at his grace, his hand glows softly, and the bubbles rise as he lifts his hand, following his mute command, he turns his hand over slowly, the bubbles following him, and he uses his other hand to create a ball of bubbles.

He takes notice of the silence a moment later, and he looks up, away from his bubble ball, eyes widening at the sight of them all watching him, and he drops his hands back into the water, averting his eyes away from theirs.

Nisroc’s hand squeezes his hip lightly. “The abilities you have are amazing, baby Power, they never cease to amaze us.”

Puriel nods from Abe’s other side, splashing him slightly for his attention, and he smiles at him when he looks up. “Will you show us again, baby Power?”

…

Tagas hums to himself, not noticing the presence behind him as he holds his hand over the warriors shredded leg, the blood slowly receding, veins sealing, tendons reconnecting, muscle slowly stitching together, the skin closing around the large gash carved into the warrior’s leg, he’d have lost his leg if someone hadn’t acted quick enough, he’d only been passing by, but he’d seen it, the healers attending him weren’t working fast enough, he’d been losing too much blood.

“Tagas,” the Healer’s voice makes him jump, from sheer proximity, right beside his ear. “You are going to be an _amazing_ healer.”

He looks up at the Archangel from over his shoulder. “Think so?”

Raphael smiles down at him, stroking his knuckles over his scarred cheek. “I _know_ so.”

…

Oren watches the miracle worker from afar, Iaoth has seated himself on the foot of a fledgling patient’s bed, they’d all noticed how frightened the little one had been, but they’re completely enraptured now, distracted from their fears of being in this large place all on their own, listening to whatever story the youngling was crafting. His hands were glowing, moving around fluidly, making small shapes and impressions to go along with whatever story he was weaving for the fledgling.

The Virtue elbows his Archangel in the side harshly. Raphael yelps at his side, turning to him, rubbing at his side lightly, he _knows_ he’s being glared at, but he ignores it, gesturing to the young miracle worker a few beds away from them.

His Archangel hums fondly. “They truly are something.”

“They’re deceivingly _powerful_.”

“And, too humble to realize it.”

Iaoth slowly lifts himself from the foot of the bed, the fledgling before him fast asleep, and gently tucks the blanket up over their shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pockets and slouching as he turns, slowly trudging his way back to the Archangel’s desk.

They both step forward, to cut the youngling off, and he yelps as they both envelope him in a hug, squeezing him playfully between them.

Iaoth laughs, pushing at them as much as he can. “Guys!”

“Your abilities are amazing, little one.” He ducks slightly as the Healer presses a kiss to the side of his head. “We’re always grateful when you show them.”

  1. **They’ve had to grow up far too fast, they’re still only younglings, and sometimes they need to be reminded that they are. Make sure they have their fun, encourage them to act the part of a youngling, make sure to make them laugh as much as you can, they need it.**



Adonai shrieks as he’s scooped up from behind, cradled in someone’s arms, and he looks around, Nisroc chuckles down at him, cradling him in his arms. “Hey, baby Power.”

“Hey, Nis.” He looks down, always surprised by just how _tall_ the Powers were, and returns his gaze to the Captain holding him. “What are you doing?”

“Holding you, what’s it _look_ like I’m doing?”

“Hey, Nis,” they both look up at Abraxos at his call. “Toss the baby Power over.”

“Nis, don’t you dare!” He shrieks as he’s tossed through the air, caught in the second oldest Power’s arms, Abraxos smiles down at him. “How’re you doing, baby Power?”

“I’m okay.”

“Just _okay_?”

He shrugs. “Yea.”

“Abe!” They look over, Rahatiel waves at them, holding his arms out, Puriel is standing behind him. “Toss him over!”

Abraxos laughs lightly, bending slightly, and tosses the small miracle worker over, Adonai shrieks again, flailing slightly, huffing when he’s caught by the younger Power. Rahatiel grins down at him. “Hey, baby Power.”

He smiles up at him. “Hi, Raha.”

“Raha, get him into position.” The younger Power nods, lifting him up, he yelps as he’s tossed over his head, dangling down his back, fingers curled around his ankles to keep him from falling, and Puriel smiles down at him. “Hello, baby Power.”

“Hi, Puri, what are you doing?”

“Tickle attack!”

He shrieks brightly when fingers wiggle into his belly, letting go of his tunic in favor of trying to catch those hands, and it only serves to allow them to claw into his bare belly, boisterous laughter explodes from him, as he bats at the fingers clawing into his belly, they spread, wiggling down his sides, and claw into his ribs. “Puhuhuhuhuhuriiihihihihihihihi stohohohohhohohhop! Aaaahahahahahahahahahhahhahahaa nohohohohohohohoho! Puuhuhuhuhuhuhurrihihihihihihii pleheheheheheease! Eeeieieiaiaiiaiaaaahahahahhahahaa ahahahahahhahahahahahaa pleheheheheheheeease! Stohohohohhhohohohohoop! Aaaahahahhahahahahaha aaaahahhahahahahahahahahahaa!”

…

Tagas shrieks in surprise when he’s caught up from behind, waving his arms as he’s lifted off his feet, and laughs, when he’s settled up on his Archangel’s shoulders, his large warm fingers curling around his calves.

Other healers smile at them as they slowly go through the Healer’s rounds, checking in on his patients, and the small miracle worker giggles softly, leaning forward, letting his hands dangle over his knees, watching them all, he can see almost _everything_ from up here.

Fingers squeeze his calves softly. “How’s the view up there, Tag?”

“You’re so tall!”

Raphael chuckles softly. “You’re just very small.”

“I’m not that small!”

“I’ve seen fledglings taller then you.”

Tagas giggles lightly. “You’re just a giant, everything’s very small compared to you.” He looks down when he feels movement, watching the Healer untie his left boot, and tug it off, setting it to rest on the desk next to him. He shivers, feeling the Archangel’s warm tingly grace curl around him protectively, and shrieks, exploding into laughter when fingers dig into his sole. “Stohohohhoop! Aaahahahahahhahahahaaa! Stohohohohhoop!”

“I _don’t_ think I will. This is just the one, you’ve got two feet, and I think they _both_ require an _examination_.”

…

Iaoth yelps as he’s scooped up from behind, flailing slightly, and turns to look at the one that had caught him up unawares. Oren smiles down at him, carrying him through the crowd of healers, and he curls his arm around his shoulders lightly. “Ori, where are we going?”

“To see a friend.”

He makes a face at the cryptic answer. “Who?”

“Ak.”

He looks over, the mental specialist smiles, waving his fingers around him, leaning against the baseboard of an empty bed. “Ummm…..Why are we meeting Ak?”

“He told me he thought your belly needed a thorough examination for sensitivity issues, and I agreed.”

Iaoth’s eyes widen, he knows what that mean, he knows what comes when they say that. “Guys! No!”

Akriel holds his arms out, and he chuckles, tossing the miracle worker over to him, Iaoth shrieks, flailing slightly as he’s tossed through the air, grunting softly when he’s caught up in the second oldest Virtues arms. “Shall we begin this examination?”

“Guys!”

Oren nods lightly. “I think we should.”

  1. **It is a fact of life, though it shouldn’t be, miracle workers being assaulted is a sad commonality. They are strong, they are defensive, and they are always ready to be struck. Do everything in your power to protect them from those meaning harm, this is a time for change, be the example.**



It wasn’t often either of the two miracles workers working under Raphael’s charge used their own abilities to assist with patients, they were nervous to, _scared_ to, afraid of how others would react and what they would do in that reaction.

But, when something was especially dire, when someone’s _dream_ was at stake, they’d put aside their own reservations to intervene, as was what miracle workers did.

He sees it from across the room, Iaoth mumbling something to the patient in the bed next to him, reaching out with his hand, and the _look_ that crosses the seasoned healers features as he does makes his blood run cold, and he pushes his way forward, when he sees the seasoned healer reach out quickly, snatching the miracle workers hand, bending it back harshly, away from the patient on the bed, and Iaoth cries out, a crack echoes through the room, and he _shoves_ his way through the crowd. The healer tugs violently on the injured appendaged, an injury that _they_ had caused, and Iaoth cries out again, shaking violently, as one does before their knees give out. The healer tugs again, sharply, and another crack echoes, the miracle worker shrieks, tugging on his arm, it’s as though the healer is trying to pull his hand _off_.

“ _Amriel!”_ He jumps forward, just as the youngling’s legs give out, undoubtedly from the pain, on the cusp of passing out, as the healer freezes mid yank, and catches him around the waist with his left arm, reaching for his injured appendage with his right hand. “ _Release him_.”

If anything, she tightens her grip, and Iaoth whimpers faintly. “Oren, this _vile_ cretin—”

“ _He_ has a _name_ , Amriel.” As gently as he can, he pulls the miracle workers hand free from the healer’s grasp, tightening his grip when the boy sags against him. “He was _healing_ him.”

“Nonsense, _they_ can’t preform such powerful actions, they’re _not_ that strong.”

“Amriel, do you remember the patient that Raphael couldn’t heal, the one with paralysis, that one?”

She nods firmly. “Yes, one of our healers was able to restore use of his legs, thank Father.”

“No, _he_ ,” Oren jerks his head to the semi-conscious miracle worker he’s holding up. “Healed him. He healed something that _Raphael_ couldn’t.” He jerks his head around, locking eyes with a passing healer, they get the message and step up. “Come on, Amriel, you can tell _him_ how one of his _favored_ younglings came to harm.” He turns sharply, carrying the semi-conscious miracle worker with him, towards where their Archangel was, seated at his desk, working on the charts for Nisroc’s newest inductees, knowing that she’d follow him as she was ordered to, _undoubtedly_ trying to find a way to plead her case.

“Raph,” he calls out when they’re close enough, his grip slipping, as the boy grows limper and limper. “A little help, he’s slipping.” The Archangel looks up at him, his eyes widening, rising quickly, crossing out from behind his desk, to catch the boy when his Captain’s grip finally fails him, and Iaoth crumples forward unconsciously. “Be careful with his wrist, it’s broken, but I don’t know the true extent of the break.”

Raphael nods, carefully scooping the boy up, turning to set him on the bed in front of his desk. Iaoth’s head lulls slightly, as he gently sets him down, pulling the chair up to sit in, he feels around his wrist carefully, humming softly when the boy whimpers unconsciously. “It’s definitely broken, quite severely too,” he turns for the cart next to him. “What happened?”

Oren shoves the healer forward slightly, Amriel yelps softly, stumbling forward. “ _She_ can explain.”

The Archangel looks up at them questioningly, an eyebrow raised, and nods, turning back to locate what he was searching for in the cart. “What happened, Amriel?”

“S-Sir, I was tending to my patient, when _he_ came over, interrupted my questioning, and tried to use his..his _vile_ abilities and I grabbed him before he could desecrate my patient and—”

The Healer’s head flits around. “ _You_ broke his wrist because he was trying to _heal_ someone?”

Amriel swallows nervously. “Um….Yes?”

“Get out.” Even Oren blinks in surprise. “You’re dismissed. Get out. My healers aren’t here to cause harm, they are here to _heal_ , you did the exact _opposite_ of what you’re here to do. Get out. I no longer need your services.”

She steps forward slightly. “S—Sir—”

The glare that she receives makes her back up a step. _“Get out.”_

…

 _All_ he’d done was heal a nasty gash on Titus’s arm, an accidental slice from one of the new trainees, he tried not to use his knowledge around others, but his new older friends encouraged him to work his magic as much as he could, complimenting him every time he did, and, and it made him feel _special_ at being so openly accepted for being who he was and doing what he did.

The Power smiles at him, fluttering the fingers of his other hand over his belly to make him giggle, don’t let them fool you, they’re a bunch of giant soft tickle monsters, honestly, they get him _at least_ once a _day_. “Thanks, baby Power.” And straightens from his squatting position, ruffling his curls lightly. “You’re the best.”

Adonai smiles up at him. “You’re welcome, Tus.”

Titus smiles down at him, rubbing his head lightly. “Sorry we can’t teach you something new today.”

“It’s okay.” The miracle worker waves his apology away. “Just being able to watch is enough. I understand.”

Neither of them see the hazel eyes that watch them, tracking their movements, staring at the _miracle worker_ who thought he could use his _disgusting_ powers on someone as _important_ as a _Power,_ what _they_ needed was to remember their _place_ , and when they forget it, it was up to _them_ to _remind_ them.

They wait patiently, that _things_ time was coming, and turn their attention back to their instructor.

They’d remind _it_ of it’s place.

They keep their eyes on them, looking down at the throwing knife in their hand, and returns their gaze to the miracle worker, his hands glowing, as a dead trampled flower was slowly rejuvenated, floating between his hands, they wait for their opportunity, for the moment to present itself, and when it does, they smirk, pulling their arm back, blade in hand, and throws.

Adonai cries out at the sharp pain in his left hand, shock overcoming him for a moment, as he stares at the _knife_ sticking _through_ his palm. The cry echoes around them, and heads turn in the direction of it’s origin, their instructor darts forward, Puriel stops him before he can pull the knife free, guiding him around gently, and they disappear from sight as they enter the underbelly of the Pavilion.

They yelp as their lifted from behind, fingers curled in the scruff of his tunic. “Hadraniel, did _you_ throw that knife?” His eyes widen, he recognizes that voice, anyone would recognize the voice of their Commander. “I _asked_ you a question and I _expect_ an answer.” Michael sounds livid.

“I—I—I…yes?”

He’s turned around, the knives confiscated, and tossed forward. “Get off my training field. I have no place for that kind of behavior in my flock. You’re dismissed.”

…

Tagas yelps, ducking away, raising his arms defensively, when the healer before him raises their hand in preparation to smack him, all he’d been trying to do was heal the patients leg, if _someone_ didn’t do _something_ , they were going to _lose_ it. He yelps _again_ when he’s lifted off his feet by the back of his tunic, pulled around, and a dark hand catches the hand that was coming down to strike him. He squirms himself free, curling his fingers around the hand that had been holding him, hugging it to his chest.

Raphael squeezes his hands soothingly, tugging the healer forward, closer, until their standing chest to chest, or, as chest to chest as someone can be with the Archangels. “Were you going to strike _my_ student, Kutiel?”

“Sir—I—I—”

“It’s a _yes_ or _no_ question, Kutiel, were _you_ intending to lay a _hand_ on _my_ student?”

“Yes?”

The Healer hums lowly, shoving the healer away, a tad harshly, and Tagas blinks in surprise. “Get out. I don’t need ones like you in my flock. You’re dismissed.” And, he is, as the Archangel turns his attention to the youngling clutching his other hand, caressing his scarred cheek. “Do what you intended to do, little one, it’s alright.”

  1. **As younglings, expect them to get into trouble, expect them to break the rules. To them, discipline is torture, it’s being held down and ruthlessly harmed. Make sure they know _why_ they are being punished and _how_ you are going to punish them, don’t be too rough, but don’t be too gentle, you’re still teaching them a lesson, after all. **



Heads turn at the yell from across the training field, some gather closer, other come running up to see what the commotion is, and the Powers push through the gathering crowd. Laying in the dirt is a young inductee, a sword pierced cleanly through their shoulder, and above him is the Powers miracle worker, fists clenched, an unknown kind of power climbing up his arms, no ones seen a _miracle worker_ when they’re angry.

They stand frozen, as the youngling steps forward, standing over the downed inductee, and twists the sword around mutely, the young warriors screams echoing around them. “Don’t you _ever_ say that about my _people_!”

_“Adonai!”_

He looks up at the call of his name, his eyes widening, hand falling from the hilt of the sword, as Nisroc breaks through the gathered crowd, and he backs up a step as he draws closer and closer, a fear unlike anything he’s ever felt settling in the pit of his stomach, and he turns to bolt, he knows what happens next.

The Powers’ Captain rushes forward, catching the small miracle worker around the waist, lifting him up off his feet. Adonai struggles, kicking and pushing at the arms wrapped around his waist, _nononononono,_ but the Captain’s grip remains unmovable, as they step up in the underbelly of the Pavilion.

“”nai, ‘Nai, calm down, it’s alright, you’re alright.” He turns into his office, closing the door with his heel, and squeezes the boy close. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, calm down, take a breath, you’re alright, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Adonai falls still, turning slightly. “Y—You’re not?”

“No, I’m not.” He sets the youngling down on his feet, turning him around by the shoulders, so they can meet eye to eye. “I’m going to punish you, but I’m not going to hurt you, not like _they_ did.” He pulls the boy in closer, and the youngling turns his head, pressing his ear to his belly, curling his arms around him in turn. “I’m not going to _torture_ you. That’s not discipline. Discipline doesn’t leave scars.”

“W—What are you going to do?”

He rubs his hand down the back of the boy’s head. “I’m going to take you over my knee.”

“I—Is it going to hurt?”

“It’s not going to be pleasant, no, but the sting will fade in a short while, and that’s the end of it. No more. No scars. No healing. Just a sore bottom for a short while.”

Adonai sniffles softly. “Will you…?”

“Yes, I’ll hold you after, if that’s what you want.” Nisroc pets his curls back lightly. “Come, the sooner we begin, the sooner we end.”

The miracle worker nods, pulling away from him, following him as he steps further into his office, turning one of the chairs before his desk around, and beckons him over. Adonai steps closer cautiously, looking down as large warm fingers reach for the belt around his waist, unbuckling it, and tugs his trousers down slightly, then he’s guided over his oldest friend’s lap, his bare bottom raised, and he sucks in a breath when a large warm hand presses to his right cheek and pulls away. He shrieks softly, kicking out, when it smacks down harshly, the sound echoes around the office space, and they continue to come down, one after another, smack, smack, smack, smack, and it burns, it makes his bottom burn, and tears soak his eyes, clouding his vision, and he kicks again, squirming over the Power’s lap, an arm curls around his waist to keep him in place, and the next few swats are harsher then the first ones.

“N—Nis! Stop! I—I’m sorry! I’m s—sorry! P—Please stop! I—It hurts! I—I’m sorry! Nis, I—I’m sorry!”

And, just as quick as it had started, it stops, he’s raised to his feet, his trousers righted, his belt rebuckled, Nisroc is standing, his fingers curling around his middle, lifting him up with ease, and he curls around him, crying into his shoulder. He rubs at his back soothingly, calling out for them to enter when someone knocks on his office door, Abraxos pokes in, and sighs sadly, stepping further inside, rubbing at their baby Power’s back too.

…

“Are you _kidding_ me!” The shout echoes around the Infirmary. “Raph said this _practice_ was _done_!”

Everyone looks around at the source, watching Iaoth advance on a young healer, Tagas is kneeling at the side of an unconscious youngling, an IV line in their arm, and from the flow, it’s not supplying, but taking.

“How _dare_ you do this to Zelig!”

Tagas stands, taking the metal tray at the bedside, spilling it’s contents to the floor, and pops up behind the healer, nodding at his brother. They look over at the commotion from the other side of the room, their Archangel and his Virtues pushing their way through the crowd of healers watching the scene unfold before them. They turn back in time to see Iaoth’s fist plow into the healer’s face, they turn from the impact, and Tagas whips the tray around, smashing it over the side of the healer’s head, and they crumple to the floor.

_“Iaoth! Tagas!”_

The Archangel’s deep voice echoes around the room in the silence that follows the assault, Tagas looks up nervously, but Iaoth is obstinate, glaring up at the Healer as he approaches. “He hurt Zelig! He was _harvesting_ him! _You_ said that was _done_!”

“Oren,” Raphael calls out, staring down at the defiant youngling staring up at him, and his Captain appears at his side. “Take care of this little one. I have business to attend to.”

  1. **They do not know what affection is, it’s plain and simple, they’ve never felt affectionate touches before. Hair ruffles, hugs, kisses, the fond cheek pat. They don’t know what those things are. Be sure to show them affection and remind them that they are loved _at least_ once a day.**



Iaoth shrieks as he’s scooped up from behind, arms curling around his waist, lifting him up off his feet. Oren chuckles over his shoulder, and he turns to look at him, smiling up at the Virtue. “Hi, Ori.”

“Hello, Iao, have I told you how much I love you?”

“No, how much?”

The Virtue chuckles softly. “With all my heart.”

…

“Baby Power,” Adonai looks up when Abraxos digs his thumb into the middle of his sole, and smiles at him when their eyes meet, the others are watching them, and he smiles at them, they smile at him in turn, Nisroc rubs his belly lightly, his arm curled around him as he rests back against his side. “It’s been a month since you’ve come to us, and we’ve loved every moment of it.”

“Swear?”

“Cross our hearts.”

…

“Tag,” he looks up at the sound of Lamechiel’s voice, away from the book he’d been reading, it was a human medical textbook, it had been a gift, and he found it so interesting, he couldn’t put it down. The elder smiles down at him, caressing his cheek lightly, rubbing his thumb over the rumpled skin. “We just wanted you to know how much we love you.”

Tagas smiles lightly. “I love you guys, too.”


	242. All The Tickles (Moriah & Zander)

“Abba!” He looks up at the voice, quickly closing the door to his cottage, bending slightly to catch the youngling that throws himself up at him, and he laughs at his excited giggling. “Abba, you’re back!”

“I’m back, little one, and guess what?”

“What! What!”

Moriah smiles at the small boy. “I’m all yours for the next three days.”

“Really!”

“Really, really.”

“Yay!” Zander hugs himself close to the healer. “I missed you, abba, you were working so much!”

“I was, so I could be off with you, I missed spending time with my little octopus.” Zander pulls back and he smiles at him, leaning in to press their foreheads together, rubbing their noses together. “What should we do first?”

“Tickles!”

“You want tickles?”

The youngling nods. “I want tickles, abba!”

Moriah chuckles softly, toeing his boots off carefully, and steps forward, carrying the youth with him. “All the tickles?”

“All of’em!”

He nods, carrying the boy passed the kitchen, back to his room, their version of the chamber Thaddeus has, that’s where all the tickles took place, because his bed was the biggest. “I can give you all the tickles.” He smiles fondly. “You shaking, are you excited?”

“Yes!”

Moriah laughs softly as he turns them into his room, tossing the boy forward onto his bed, Zander shrieks, flailing around as he flies through the air, huffing as he lands on his guardians bed, giggling as he looms over him, wiggling his fingers playfully. “Does a special little youngling want a visit from the tickle monster?”

“Yehehes!”

He giggles harder when fingers curl around his ankles and tug him down. “Come here, you, the tickle monster wants to see these little feet.” Moriah presses his soles over his beard, smiling down at him, and Zander giggles again. “These little feet are the tickle monsters _favorite_ little feet.” He shakes his head slowly, rubbing his beard over the younglings little feet, and Zander shrieks with laughter, tugging on his feet. “The tickle monster is _hungry;_ would you mind if he had a snack?”

The youngling giggles feverishly, shaking his head, and he smiles, his boy loves his tickles, and he loves giving his boy his tickles.

He squeals brightly when he nibbles on the baby toe of his right foot.

“Aahhahahahahahababaahaabbaahahahhahahhahahaa! Nohoohohohohohohooho! Eeieieieiiaaiaiaaahahahahhahahahahhaa ahahhahahahahhahahahaa nohohohohohot theehehehehehhee tohohohohoohoes! Eeieieieieeeieieiiaaiaiaiaaahahahahahhahahahhaa ahahahahahahhhahahahaa nanaaaahahahahhahahaahahhahahaa! Ihihhihhit tihiihhihihihickles! Ahahahahhaababahahahahaabbbaahahhahahaahahhaa nohhohohohoho nihhihihihihibbles!”

“The tickle monster has to know, he only visits good little angels, have you been good?”

Zander nods excitedly. “I’ve been _really_ good!”

Moriah smiles, letting go of his feet, jumping at him. The youngling squeals, trying to curl up, but he catches him, wiggling his fingers deep into his sides as he lays over him. “Then, the tickle monster is happy to come play with you.” His boy squeals again, falling limp under him, his fingers curling tightly in the quilt under him as he cackles joyfully, he’s so happy, he loves making his little octopus happy. “Little one, you’re not wearing your shirt, did you _expect_ me to give you tickles?”

“Yehehehehhehes! Eeieieieiiaiaiaahahahahahahahahaa ahahahahahhaahhahahahahahaa ahahahhahaababaahahahababbbaaahahahahahahaha ahahhahahalwaahahhahaays gihihhihihives mehehehehhee tihihihihihickles!”

He chuckles softly. “Darn right, I do.” And leans over, burying his face in the boy’s left side.


	243. Of Protective Measures (Raphael & Shepherd)

Shepherd knew it was only a matter of time before _he_ came searching for him, and he kept his eyes peeled, staring at the entrance to the Infirmary intently, watching the people coming in and going out closely, just in case, _just in case_.

And then, _he’s_ there, standing in the entrance, eyes scanning the room, he knows who he’s looking for, and he shrinks in on himself, praying that those eyes don’t find his, but they do, and they boil with anger, as he stalks forward, glaring at him.

The youngling kicks at his blankets, pushing them down quickly, turning frantically to watch him draw closer and closer, his hands clenched at his sides, he’s in _so_ much trouble.

His feet are still healing, Raphael said he was not to stand, the skin was still to tender, and not to put too much weight on them. But, he disregards that order, _he’s_ only a few beds away now, and fear bubbles in his belly, as he finally untangles his legs from the blankets. Pain spikes through his feet when he jumps up, jumping over the other bed when _he_ tries to make a grab for him. He bites his lip to hold back a cry of pain, he feels like he’s standing on hot coals, scanning the room for the _only_ one who could protect him from his _enraged_ Guardian.

Shepherd spots him, only a few beds away, tending to someone’s wing, and he turns, the _feeling_ of a hand reaching for him tingling in his senses, and he ducks with a yelp. “ _Get over here you brat.”_

He shakes his head, backing up a few paces, he’s not going back, _he’s not going back_ , Raphael said he’d come stay with him, that he’d be his new guardian, that Yosef would be in trouble for his abuse, and he turns, bolting away from him, ignoring the pain in his feet as he does, crying out at the sound of Yosef making chase, and jumps at the Archangel just as he rises, ramming into his side, hugging his arms around him tightly, the Healer huffs, grunting softly, forced over a step from the impact.

“Shep—”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Raphael looks up at the voice, at the warrior standing there, and curls his arm around the boy quivering against his side. “I will remove him.”

Shepherd is quivering, he’s terrified, so he assumes this to be who he thinks it is. “Yosef.”

The boy’s _old_ guardian nods stiffly, reaching out to grab the boy clutching at him as tightly as he can manage, and his gaze turns cold. “If you so much as _touch_ this boy, I will ensure you _never_ see the light of day _again_.”

Yosef blinks. “Have you been telling _stories_ again, Shepherd?”

The youngling clutches to the Archangel tighter, whispering under his breath a mantra of _‘please don’t let him take me please don’t let him take me please don’t let him take me’._ He turns fully around, curling his arms around the frightened boy clutching at him as though his life depends on it, and after reading his entire chart last night while the child slept, he was _sure_ it truly did.

“Do you take me as a fool, Yosef?” Healers passing by look over at the bite in their Archangel’s tone. “Do you think _I_ can’t place two and two together?” He curls his left hand around the back of Shepherd’s head tenderly. “I’ve been around for a _long_ time, I’ve seen almost _everything_ there is to see, I _know_ when I am seeing a _story_ and when I am _not_.” He pulls the boy in closer. “You will be remanded to the Prison until the Council convenes for your trial.”

“You can’t do—”

Healers skirt around them when the Healer’s eyes flash, his grace right under the surface, and he growls lowly. “I can do _anything_ I want.” The Archangel raises his hand, and the guards posted in the Infirmary step forward to escort the warrior to the Prison, as was what the Archangel commanded.

Raphael looks down at the youngling curled around him. “And, as for _you_.” He sweeps the boy up off his feet. “I told you to stay _off_ those feet.”

Shepherd curls his arm around his shoulders. “But—”

“I know, little one, I know, but you could have called me, I was only a few beds away.” He leans over to set the youth back down on his bed and sits on the edge. “I would have heard you just fine.” He brushes the boy’s curls out of his eyes. “He wouldn’t have had the _chance_ to touch you.”

The youngling throws himself back in the pillows. “Raph, I’m _bored_ , I want to _get_ up, I’ve been here, _in this bed_ , for almost two weeks!”

“Oh, you’re bored, huh?”

Shepherd nods. “ _Very_ bored.”

“I could _entertain_ you, if you’d like.”

“I don’t think I like the implications of that statement.”


	244. A Bit Of A Bother (Raphael, Adonai, Iaoth, & Tagas)

He finds them laying in a pair of empty beds, one laying on their stomach, and the other sprawled out on their back, and he frowns, approaching the one on their back. Iaoth whines at the hand that curls around his chin gently, not wanting to be moved, as his head is turned slightly. “Iao, do you feel alright?”

The miracle worker shakes his head, scratching at his belly lightly, and throws his arm back down. “No, I feel bad, Raph.”

Raphael hums, looking down when he sees the youth’s hand raise again, catching the appendage before he could scratch once more, and lifts the bottom of his tunic up, humming in acknowledgement. “How do you feel, little one?”

Iaoth licks his lips softly. “I feel bad, Raph, my belly hurts and my throat hurts and I’m all itchy. Make it stop.”

He feels his forehead and cheeks, frowning at the warmth, and reaches down to rub his belly lightly. “I know just what to do, little one, you just give me a moment to check on your brother.”

The youngling nods, and he turns, moving to the edge of the other bed, petting the fiery red curls of his young apprentice, Tagas makes a soft sound, uncurling slightly to look up at him, and he smiles down at him gently. “Feeling pretty lousy?”

Tagas nods, turning back around again, his left hand reaching up to scratch his side, and like he had with his brother, he catches the reaching appendage, lifting his tunic to see what he’s sure he knows is already there.

Nodding, he stands, looking for his Captain, their eyes lock, and he jerks his head around, Oren nods, turning to Akriel for his assistance, and they both turn to gather what was asked of them. Seating himself in the chair between the beds, Raphael turns for the cart behind him, rifling through the third drawer for what he’s looking for, and nods when he finds it, a dark red bottle, and reaches into the first drawer for a spoon. Acetaminophen, a pain reliever and fever reducer, it make them active enough to get into their baths once Akriel and Oren finish preparing them.

“Here, Iao,” he turns, filling the spoon. “Sit up and drink this.” Iaoth shakes his head. “I can give it to you in a less pleasant way, it’s thick, so it’ll go in the rear.” The boy sits up to take his medicine quickly. “Good choice.” The Healer turns to the other boy, refilling the spoon, and holds it out. “Here, Tag, drink this up, it’ll help you feel better.” The redhead pushes himself up weakly, he heard the threat, the three of them will avoid injections in their bottoms as much as they can, thank you, and takes the spoonful of medicine.

“Raph…” He turns to the other boy at the call of his name, smacking his hand away lightly when he catches him scratching, and the youngling whines softly. “It’s itchy.”

The Archangel hums softly, reaching out to brush his curls back tenderly, rubbing his cheek with his thumb. “I know, little one, we’ll take care of the itchiness, we’re just waiting for Ori and Ak to bring what we need.”

“Is it a shot that’s going in my butt, because, if it is, I’d rather be itchy.”

Raphael chuckles softly. “No, it’s not a shot, I promise.” He turns when he feels a finger poke his arm, Tagas has turned onto his side, staring at him with his glossy green eyes, his pale face flushed from the fever. “I know you’re itchy too, just wait a few more minutes, alright?”

“Okay, Raph.”

“Here we are, sorry it took so long.” Oren sets a large tub down next to Tagas’s bed and Akriel sets his down next to Iaoth’s, both boys watch them poor a large bowl of oats into the water and mix it up, watching them as they turn to face them. “Come on, little healer, let’s get you stripped.” The oldest Virtue helps him slowly sit up, and Tagas whines when he smacks his hand lightly when he tries to scratch his belly, raising his arms for the Virtue to tug his tunic up over his head, and he helps him undress gently before helping him stand, leading him over to step into the large tub. The water is hot, not too hot, not burning hot, but hot, it’s nice, it’s soothing, and Oren helps him settle back, brushing his fingers through his curls once he’s settled in. “You soak for a bit, this’ll help you with the itchiness.”

He feels a bit better, and Tagas smiles up at him. “Thanks, Ori.”

“Anytime, little healer.” Oren scratches his head lightly. “We’ll get you better in no time.”

“Raphael, brother,” they both look up at the voice, Michael smiles at them, looking down to young Adonai at his side, scratching at his neck miserably. “It appears they all shared their sickness with each other.”

Raphael sighs softly. “I expected so.” And points a finger at the young miracle worker. “’Nai, no scratching, put that hand down.”

“But it itches!”

“Hand _down_.”

The youngling huffs, but lets his arm fall limply, nodding at the order from his elder.

Oren chuckles softly, shaking his head, turning in the other direction. “I’ll go get another tub.”

“Thank you, Michael.” The Healer waves the boy closer. “I’ll take good care of him.”

“I have no doubts.” Michael leans over to press a kiss to the younglings head. “You be better in no time, little one.”

Adonai looks up at him. “Can the others still come see me?”

The Viceroy chuckles softly. “I have no doubt that Nisroc and the others will come to regale you tales about their day, they’ve all had the pox, so there’s no concern for them.”

He smiles, nodding up at the oldest Archangel, and turns to make his way over to the third born, as was expected of them, hearing Michael turn to make his leave. Raphael smiles up at him when he’s in front of him, and he tries to glare at him, because he told him to stop scratching, but he flutters his fingers over his belly, and he smiles, giggling softly as he turns away slightly. “There’s that smile.” He watches him pour a thick liquid in a spoon and hold it up to him. “Drink this.” He makes a face, but does as he’s told, making another face at the foul taste. “I know, it’s not very appetizing.” He pats him on the outer thigh lightly when Oren returns with his tub. “Strip down and climb into that tub there, it’ll help with the itchiness, and _no_ scratching.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

A finger pokes into his belly firmly and he squeaks. “Watch it, little one, you _don’t_ want _me_ to play _that_ game with you.”

Adonai giggles again, nodding lightly, and steps around him to the waiting Virtue.


	245. Hidden Ailments (Raphael & Samandriel)

“ _Samandriel.”_

He cringes at the tone his name is called in, knowing it was not a good one, it was a tone of someone who was livid, beyond angry, enraged even, it usually followed with a less then pleasant experience of one being turned over their knee, and depending on their level of anger, any sort of instrument was used on their poor behind.

He turns slowly on his heel, feeling his cheeks heat up as he takes in the sight of the Archangel cutting through the crowd, he wasn’t his guardian, but he knew the Archangel had always been rather fond of him, something akin to a second guardian, caring for him while he real guardian was off in the field.

“Let me see.”

“Let you see what?”

Dark fingers curl under his chin and force his head up, he meets shining emerald eyes, angry, but not angry enough to shine their electric blue. Raphael glares down at him, squeezing his chin firmly. “Don’t play games with me, little one, you’ll find I’m not the mood to play along.” He gestures to his side, to the one that aches, to the one he’d put a glamour on to hide the true extent of it’s wellbeing. “Show me.”

“Ummm…..I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Archangel pulls him closer, by the chin, and leans over, until they’re face to face, and he gulps softly. “If you do not show me, I will strip you down, right where we stand, for everyone to see.”

Samandriel’s eyes widen at the threat, he doesn’t know if he truly would or not, but its not a bluff he wants to try and call, he’s never known the Healer to bluff, in all the time he’s known him. He doesn’t say anything without meaning. “Can we….Can we go somewhere more private?”

The Healer nods sharply, the fingers let go of his chin and curl around the back of his neck, guiding him forward. He feels like a wayward puppy, being carried by it’s parent, as he’s led down the Axis, towards the Archangels Garden, ignoring the glances others send his way as they make their way down to road.

Raphael opens the gate to their Garden, guiding him in, and lets it slam closed behind them, guiding the youngling up the path to their Villa, through the screen door, and down to his room, where he pushes him in gently and closes the door.

Resting his hands on his hips, he nods to him expectantly. “There, we are in private, show me.”

Hesitantly, he lifts his tunic, and Raphael’s on him like a flea on a dog. Squating to get a better look at the wound, the Archangel huffs, grumbling under his breath about _‘hiding wounds from me’_ and _‘troublesome younglings’,_ as he poked and prodded at the red inflamed skin. “How long ago did you come upon this?”

The youngling bites his lip.

_“Samandriel.”_

He inhales deeply at the sharp order. “Three weeks.”

Blazing emerald eyes turn up to him. _“What!_ You’ve had this for _three weeks_ and never brought it to anyone’s attention!” He bites his lip. “You and me are in for a very _firm_ conversation, little one, I assure you that. It’s infected, Samandriel, rather badly too, which could have been avoided if you had _come to me_.” The Archangel stands, straightening up, and points a finger at him. “Stay.”

Samandriel stands there, with his order made in that tone that he knew never to disobey, watching the Healer cross the room for the shelves above his desk, searching through the jars resting on the bottom shelf, picking a red jar, and some bandages from above, he turns back to him, still murmuring under his breath, he’s _really_ upset him this time.

He stands in complete silence as his wound is cleaned and dressed, Raphael stopped glaring when he noticed how pale the youngling was getting, helped him pull his top off, tossing it in the hamper, and gave him one of his own. “Change into this, little one, boots and trousers off, once we’re done here you’re going to take a nice nap.”

The youngling looks up at him. “Will you…..”

“Yes, little one, I will rest with you, now, come, do as you’re told.”

He nods, kicking his boots off, and shimmying out of his trousers, carefully pulling the Archangel’s tunic up over his head.

Raphael sits on the edge of his bed, waiting patiently for him to finish, and gestures him over when he turns to look at him. “Let’s get this over with, come.” Samandriel takes his hand, and he guides him forward, pulling the back of his drawers down. “Over you get.” He guides the youngling down. “Twenty swats.”

_“Twenty!”_

_“Three_ weeks, Samandriel, so, yes, _twenty_.”

He nods mutely, looking down to the floor, the Archangel’s feet in the edge of his vision. He inhales when a warm hand presses to his cheek for a moment and pulls back, he holds his breath, and yelps loudly when it claps back down harshly. Twenty sounds like it would take a while, but it doesn’t, there’s no pausing, no breaks, they come down one right after another, and he’s sobbing by the time they reach the tenth, pleading when they reach fifteen, and limp when they reach the twentieth. He’s lifted to his feet, his drawers righted, and pulled back down, into his greatest friends embrace, his warm strong arms, and pressed against his warm sturdy chest.

“Ssshhhh little one, it’s alright.” Fingers scratch at his head lightly. “It’s alright, all is forgiven.”

“I—I’m s—s—sorry!”

Raphael hums softly. “I know, little one, I know.” He stands, lifting the youth up with him, cradling him in his arms. “Let’s take a nice nap together.”


	246. The Consequences Of Boredom (Thaddeus & Theo)

A squeal rings down the hall from behind the chamber door.

The prisoner three cells down calls out. “What did he do to deserve going in there?”

Another squeal echoes around them.

A prisoner two cells down from them calls out. “I think Thaddy was just bored.”

“That’ll do it.”

…

“You know what I’m going to do now?” Theo giggles up at him as he brushes his fingers up and down his arms. “Do you know?”

“Thahahahaddy nohohoho!”

“I _think_ I’m going to tickle some cute little armpits.” Those fingers get closer and closer to his armpits and he giggles harder. “Do you know what I’m going to do after that?”

“Thahahahaadddyyyy!”

“I’m going to tickle a cute little belly.” Those fingers pull away from his arms, coming to hover just over his armpits, and Theo looks between them both cautiously. “Then, I’m going to scrub some cute little feet.”

“Thahahahaddyy whyhyhyhy! Ihihihi’ve beheheheheheen goohohohhood!”

Thaddeus smiles down at his old co-warden. “Yes, you most certainly have been good, and I’m very proud of you for it, as for the why, because I’m bored.” He flutters his fingers over the younger angel’s armpits, and he shrieks with laughter, pressing his head back in the pillow, throwing his head from side to side. “And, no one likes it when _I’m_ bored.”

“Thaahahahahhahahahaaaddyyyyyyy! Nohohohohohoho plehehehehehheeease! Eeeieieieiiaiaiaiaiaiaaahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahaa nohohohohohohoho! Leheheheheheet’s dohohohohho sohohohohohoomethihihiihihihing ehehehheheelse! Plehehehehehheheeease! Eeeieiieieaiiaiaiaaahahahahhahahahahhaha aaahahahahahhahahahahahaha aahhahahahahahahahahhaha plehehehehheease!”

“You want to do something else?” Thaddeus wiggles his index fingers in. “Like what, I’m open to suggestion.”

“Lehehehehehet’s plahahahhahahaay ahahahahhahaa gahahahahhaame!”

“A game, you say, my interest is peaked, what _kind_ of game?”

Theo struggles, giggling wildly. “Aaahahahahhahahahahaa aahahhahahahahahaa bohohohohohohohooard gaaahahhahahahahhahaame!”

Thaddeus pulls back, crossing his arms loosely, tapping a finger to his lips in contemplation, and Theo begs silently for him to agree. “A boardgame, huh?” He looks down at the younger angel. “Want some hot cocoa too?” He nods lightly, trying to get his giggling under control, and takes a deep breath, swallowing them with a slight struggle. “Okay, I’d be down with playing a board game.”


	247. Going To Bed With A Smile (Thaddeus & Theo)

“Let me see this armpit.”

“Thahahhaaddyy nohohoho!”

“Let me see this armpit.” Thaddeus raises their arms up, his fingers curled through his younger brother’s, and pokes a finger into the armpit that’s revealed to him. “There’s that ticklish little armpit.”

Theo pushes against him as much as he can. “Thahahhaddy nohohoho! Lehehheeave mehehehe ahahalone!”

“I can’t, little brother.” He wiggles his finger gently and the younger angel shrieks lightly. “You’ve been a right grump all day, and I intend to rectify that before we go to bed, we can’t have you going to sleep grumpy, now can we?” The older angel pauses. “Is this armpit ready for some tickles?”

“Thahahhaaddyyy! Nohohhhooho! Leheheheheave ihihihit ahahahalone! Nohohoho ahahhaarmpiihihihihit tihihihickles!”

“Oh, this armpit is getting tickles, is it ready?” Thaddeus readies his fingers. “Is it ready for tickles?”

Theo giggles in anticipation, curling the fingers of his free hand in his older brothers tunic, falling tense under him, he knows they’re coming, he knows they are, it’s not a question of if, it was a question of when. “Thahahahhaaddyyy! Pleheheheease!”

“Please, give my armpit some tickles?” He flutters his fingers over the exposed armpit, and the younger angel squeals brightly, cackling with bright happy laughter, pushing at his chest again. “Why, I’d be happy to.”

“Thahahahhaaddyyy nohohohohohoo! Pleheheheease! Aaahahahahahhahahahaha ahaahahhahahahahahahaa nnaaananaaaahahahahhahahahahahahaha stohhoohhohohohohop stohohohhop! Nohhohohoho tihihihihickles! Nohohohoo! Plehehehehheease! Aaahahahahhahahahahhaa aahahahahahahahahhaananaanaahahahahahahahhahaa nnaaanaaahahahahahahahhahahahahhahaha Thahahahahahaddy! Pleheheheheease!”

Thaddeus smiles, wiggling a finger in the hollow of his armpit, and he squeals again, kicking his legs as best as he can under the older angel. “I love this armpit so much.” He circles his finger up around his armpit lightly, then back down, and wiggles it back in the hollow. “It gets the most tickles because it’s my favorite.”

Theo squeals every time he wiggles his finger into his hollow, pressing his cheek firmly to the older angel’s shoulder, trying to push him away. “Eeieieieieiaiaiaiaaiaaahahahahahahhahahaa ahahahahahhahahahaa Thahahahhahaaadddyyyyy eeieieiaiiaiaiaaiahahahahahahahaha ahahahahahahahahaa nohhohohohoho! Eeeieieieiieieieieiiaieaiiaeaaaahahhahahahahhhahahaha aahahahahahhahahahahahaa nananaaahahahahhahahahhhhahahahaha eieiiieieiaiaiiaaiaiaaahahhahahahahhahhahahaa stohohhohohohop ihihihihiit! Thahahahhahaaddyyy! Nohohohohot theheheeheheheere! Nohohohohohot thehehehehhehere!”

“Not here?” He wiggles his finger in deeply. “This spot right here?”

“Yeehehehehhehehehehhes! Thahahahahaaddyyy rihihihihihight thehehehehehere! Nohhohohohohot thehehehehehere! Pleheheheheease! Eeieieieiaiiaaaahahahhahahahahhahaa ahahahhahahahaahahhaa gehehehehehehet ihihihihihit ohhohohohout! Thahahahhahaaddyyy plehehehehheeease! Nohohohohot thehehehehehehere!”

Thaddeus chuckles softly. “Are you going to be grumpy still?”

Theo squeals brightly. “Nohhohohohoho! Eeeieieieiieieiaiiaiaiaahhahahahahahha ahahahahhahahahaha a ha hahahahahahahahahahahahaha eeeieieiiaiaiiaaiaaahahahhahahahahahhhahahahaa nohohohohoho! Nohohohohot gruhuhuhuhumpy! Nohohohohoot gruhuhuhuhumpy! Plehehehehheease! Nohhohohohohot gruhuhuhuumpy! Nohohohohot! Nohohohoho mohohohohore!”

“Maybe I should give this armpit some berries just to be sure.”

“NOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHO! NNENENEEIEIEIIIEAIIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHHOHOHOHOHOHOO THAHAHHAHAHAAADDYYYY! EEIEIEIEIEIIEIAIAIIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOO BEHEHEHEHHEHERRIES! EEIEIIEIEIAIIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA STOHOHHOHOHOHOHOP STOHOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIT! EIEIEIEIIEAIIIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHHAHAAAIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAIAEIEAIAIEEIAAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA ANANANAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA THAHAHAHHAHAHAHDDYYYY! NOHOHOHOHOT GRUHUHUHUHUMPY! NOHOHOHOHOT GRUHUHUHUHUMPY! IHIHIHIHIHI PROHOHOHOHOMISE! NOHOHOHOHOHOT GRUHUHUHUMPYYEYEYYEEIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHHAHAAAHAHAAHAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Thaddeus chuckles softly, letting go of his hand to wrap his arms around him, turning them over. Theo pants over his chest, giggling softly under his breath, curling his arms around himself. “Good, grumpy little angels get tickles, so you best keep that in mind.”


	248. Sent With Comeuppance (Thaddeus, Raphael, & Arlo)

“Be nice to him, Thaddeus, I’m fond of this one.”

“Raph,” the Warden presses a hand to his heart. “I’m insulted. I’m _always_ nice.”

“Sure,” the Archangel levels a look at him. “I know just how _nice_ you can be.” He hums, nodding slightly, and smiles. “Have fun with him. Armpits and belly are the worst. Do what you please.”

“Why, thank you, oh, wise one.”

Raphael laughs softly, smacking the younger angel over the head lightly. “Quit that!”

Thaddeus laughs, ducking slightly, and bows dramatically. “If that’s what you desire, oh, knowledgeable one.”

“Thaddeus, I’m _warning_ you.”

“I’m quivering, sir, absolutely quivering.” He laughs, jumping back when the Healer makes a swipe at him. “Missed me.”

“I’ll be back. You better be aware of your surroundings. Never know when I might strike.”

“Now, I _really_ am scared.”

Raphael laughs again, shaking his head as he turns to make his leave. “As you _should_ be. Don’t forget _who_ taught you everything you know.”

“I feel vaguely threatened.”

“Good.”

Thaddeus laughs softly, turning back to the door of his chamber, as the Archangel makes his leave down the hall, and pushes the door open.

Arlo looks over at him from his place strapped down on the table. “ _You’re_ Thaddeus?”

He raises an eyebrow as he closes the door behind him. “Expecting someone else?”

“I just thought you’d be more….fearsome.”

“Oh, I can be very fearsome.” He saunters up to the edge of the table and leans against the side. “So, I heard you were being a bad boy.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s not what Raph said, he said you punched a patient in the face, care to tell me why?”

Arlo bites his lip and looks away. “No.”

“I see, you’re going to be a stubborn one, no matter, I’ll break you like I do everyone else.” He cracks his fingers dramatically, wiggles them slightly as though making sure they were well and ready to use, and Arlo watches him closely, he’s heard rumors, Raph said he taught Thaddeus everything he knew, almost, almost everything, and that Thaddeus had learned to expand on that knowledge, so, in essence, he was probably worse then Raph, and he realizes, now, that he’s in a very precarious position. “Alright, I’m not one for chatting, well, I am, but it’s usually a one sided conversation, really, let’s get down to business.”

He smiles down at him, resting his well and ready hands on the side of the table. “So, I’ve been told it’s the belly and armpits with you, where should we start, I’m open to suggestion.”

The young healer bites his lip. “Nowhere.”

“Now, I _don’t_ believe that was an option, I’m _pretty_ sure I said it was belly or armpits.”

“Umm….no.”

“Umm…. _yes_. I’m the one in charge here, and it’s gonna happen, I’m letting you pick where we go first because I’m being _nice_.” Arlo stares up at him, and Thaddeus stares down at him in turn, tapping his fingers against the table. “You’re not going to pick, are you?” Arlo shakes his head. “Oh, well, okay, I was trying to be nice, but I guess you don’t want me to play Mr. Nice Guy, that’s cool, that’s fine, I won’t play the nice guy then, no problem, I can be the tough guy, the mean one, that’s fine with me, just remember, I _tried_ to be nice.” He raises a finger. “Which one is more tickly, the armpit,” he wiggles his finger into his left armpit, and he squeals softly. “Or, the belly?” He pokes a finger in his belly, and he shrieks. “Oh, _definitely_ the armpits, we got a _squeal_ there, we’ll start up here.”

The little healer flexes his fingers as the Warden crosses around the edge of the table to stand above him and looks between them both when his hands come to hover over his armpits, he wiggles a single finger in both of his armpits and he _squeals_. “Oh, my god, are your armpits _that_ ticklish?” He wiggles his fingers again and he squeals again. “They are! This is great!” Arlo squeals louder, lifting from the table, when ten fingers begin to flutter over his armpits, and presses his head deep into the pillow under him. “I love it!”

…

He smiles at the guard posted outside the door, and they move aside to allow him entrance, he tugs the door open, and loud squealing cackles echo down the hall. Silently, he steps into the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He raises a finger to his lips when he comes to stand behind his boy’s tormenter, Arlo’s eyes meeting his, and he waits a moment, readying himself, and digs his fingers into the Warden’s sides.

Thaddeus shrieks, falling back into his chest, Raphael smiles at his young healer over the Warden’s shoulder. “Was he nice to you, Arlo?”

The youngling shakes his head.

Smiling, the Archangel looks down at the Warden. “Thaddeus, I _thought_ I told you to be _nice_.”


	249. Healing The Healer (Raphael & His Boys)

The first thing he’s aware of when he wakes is his stuffy nose, congestion, he’d been sick for the last week, barely conscious, he can hardly remember much of anything but sleeping from the last week, the second thing he’s aware of is the weight on top of him, he looks down for the source of the weight, and smiles. Little Josh is curled up on top of him, sleeping soundly, contentedly, hugging his emerald green bear closer.

Sitting up slightly, holding the boy in place, he looks to his right when someone mumbles, smiling down at his son, Isa’s stretched out of his belly, one arm hanging over the edge of his bed, turning to his left, he smiles again, his youngest charge, Shepherd, resting peacefully on his side. Down by his feet rests Lahabiel, curled up in a ball, sleeping peacefully unaware of his surroundings.

He looks around his room, bodies litter the floor, all sleeping blissfully.

Ephraim’s laying on top of Oren, his cushioned on his shoulder, a blanket curled around them both. At their side is Akriel and Constantine, curled around each other, buried half way under a blanket. Zed’s sprawled out on his back above them, Zaverial sprawled out on _his_ back, both snoring softly in unison.

On the other side of the bed, on the floor, is another mound of blankets. Arlo’s curled up on his side, the blanket pulled up under his nose, sleeping peacefully, and beside him is Azrael and Anubis. Azrael’s head resting on one of his hounds belly, his legs stretched over the other, and Anubis sleeping sprawled on his back next to him. At their feet lay Iaoth and Tagas, curled into each other, sharing a blanket.

“I’m happy to see you awake, Raph.” Raphael turns towards the voice and Michael smiles at him, nodding at the bodies sleeping around his room. “They took it upon themselves to take care of you while you were unwell.”

“All of them?”

“Every single one.”


	250. Duality (Azrael & Raguel)

He swings his scythe around expertly, walking in silence through the dark dank alley, the lights of a florescent sign illuminate the puddles forming under his feet, the sign flickers, a small hole in the wall night club.

Drinks, girls, and exotic dancing.

He tosses his scythe aside, it dissipates, back into the pocket dimension they kept their wings on. He flashes the bouncer his ID, and the doors opened for him, allowing him entrance into their establishment. Music floods his senses, loud and obnoxious, he prefers the quiet places, but special circumstances called for special happenings, and thus, here he was.

He spots him at the bar, nursing a cocktail glass, something sparkling over the edge, watching a particularly clad girl dance around a pole on the stage. He slides in next to him, on the stool at his side, and turns to the tender, ordering his own drink, and turns back, resting his elbows on the bar behind him, he leans back comfortably. The tender sets his glass down next to him, and he thanks the man, reaching back for it, pressing it to his lips to take a sip.

“Hello, Azrael.”

“Good to see you again, Raguel.”

His companion sets his empty glass on the counter behind him and turns on his stool to face him. The angel of vengeance is like him in a way, he likes his solitude, doesn’t like to be disturbed, and has a rather nasty habit of picking favorites when it came to their enormous family. “What brings you out to find little ole me?”

“I have an offer to extend.” The angel of death spins his drink lightly with a finger and takes another sip, turning to spare the other angel a glance, and swallows. “One that I think you’d be interested in.”

“Oh, an offer, you say.” Raguel raises his hand for the bartender to make him another drink, and the human nods, turning for the ingredients. “Tell me, my interest is peaked, what is your offer?”

Azrael leans around, setting his sweating glass on the napkin once more, and rests back once again, watching the dancers perform their best. “Castiel killed Raphael.”

“I heard, word on the grape vine is he swallowed purgatory, the Leviathan were freed.” He chuckles softly, shaking his head, turning back to watch the girls with him. “Silly little seraph. Rumor is, is that Death helped those two humans fix him as good as new again.”

“You heard correctly, but not before he killed my favorite brother, as I remember, he was one of your favorites too.”

“He was.” Raguel nods lightly, turning for his refilled drink, and takes a sip of the fruity concoction. “I cared for him deeply.”

“I want revenge.”

He turns to look at his companion, Raguel regards him carefully, and hums thoughtfully. “You’re asking me to join you in your revenge.”

“Who better to ask then the angel of vengeance?”

He hums again, nodding lightly. “My interest is peaked once more, what is it you have in mind?”

Azrael reaches back for his drink. “I want a _trial_. You are an angel of Justice, as well, aren’t you?”

“I am, among various other things, I usually stick with vengeance and justice, though, more fun for me.” Raguel sets his empty glass down. “A trial, you say, hmm, we’d need the Council for that. Who would take lead?”

“We are twins, Raguel, we would together. As for the Council, I can wake them, I’m on rather good terms with Void.”

The Archangel of Vengeance snorts. “Because they’re your parent.” He rubs his chin. “I like the sound of that though, a _trial_ , Castiel has made transgressions against God’s law, his humans in equal parts with him in regards to these crimes, I’d say that calls for a trial.” He nods lightly, pushing away from the bar, standing from his seat, he turns to face the Archangel of Death. “I like your thought process, twin, I will gather the transgressors and you gather the Council, you deliver the crimes, and I’ll deliver the punishment.”

Azrael smiles, standing from his seat, nodding at his brother. “I will see you soon.”

“Safe travels, _little_ brother.”

“We’re only two seconds apart.”

“Which makes me two seconds _older_.”

…

He leans against the staff of his scythe as the dark mass forms into a silhouette of a person before him, a smile on they’re face, and he returns the smile in turn, waving a hand at them. “Parent, I apologize for waking you from your sleep.”

The dark slithering silhouette bows slightly, as though to say he’s forgiven, and beckons him on with a dark hand. “Parent, I need to wake some of the angels from their sleep.”

They turn, gesturing out with their hand, as though welcoming him to do as he pleased, and he nods, bowing slightly. “Thank you, Parent, I won’t be long.” He steps forward, pausing at their side, looking up at them. “Sweet dreams, Parent?” Another smile, and he gets a thumbs up from them. “I’m glad.”

He steps forward into the darkness, passed sleeping angels, stopping at one, he reaches into the goo like substance, the first of four.

…

Azrael sat straight in his Throne, waiting for his twin to arrive with the accused, ignoring the whispering from the elders behind him, asking why they had been awoken from their eternal sleep, and he smiles, when they arrive. His brother looks ready to murder someone.

“Twin, mine, you’re here.”

Raguel smiles up at him, leaving his prisoners where they stand, slowly making his way up the small incline to his own Throne. “I’m ready to being this trial. I’ve had time to think of _punishments_.”

“I _love_ it when you get this way.”

“I feel at peace with myself right now.” He waves at the four elder Archangels before throwing himself down in his throne. “Let’s get this ball rolling.”


	251. Even Death Plays Favorites (Azrael & Raphael)

“What’s the matter, Raphael?” Castiel asks mockingly, high on the souls he’d swallowed, his mind clouded from honest judgement. “Someone clip your wings?”

“Castiel, please.” Fear was evident on the thirdborn Archangel’s face, and he backed up a step, raising his hands placatingly. “You let the demon go, but not your own brother?”

“The demon, I have plans for. You, on the other hand….” The Seraph raises his hand, preparing to snap his fingers. “I have no plans for.”

Raphael’s eyes widen, feeling his life flash before him, times gone by, the laughter of his younger brothers and sisters, the voices of his family, his Virtues, his brothers, the ones he had raised. The Winchesters and Bobby Singer watch in silence, with what they’re all sure is about to be the Archangel’s last moments.

There’s a flash of metal, obsidian metal, the barking of hounds, the sound of metal slicing through skin and bone, and Castiel _screams_ , pulling his arm in, his hand, fingers still poised to snap, lays on the floor at his feet.

Silence fills the room as a tall being straightens, throwing long silver hair over their shoulder, two large dark hounds at his sides, growling threateningly at anything that moved, canines dripping with an unknown poison, standing in front of the Archangel protectively, a long scythe in his hand, he twirls it around expertly and slams the end of the staff into the floor, sparks shooting outwards from the impact. Swirling silver eyes stare at the seraph intently. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Seraph, I still have _plans_ for him.”

Castiel growls lowly, waving his other hand over his severed stump, a new hand forming slowly, it’s a gross process, Dean Winchester gags in the background. “Azrael, you are interfering, you are getting in my way.”

The tall man inclines his head. “I am only looking out for what’s mine, and Raphael, he is _mine_. Even with you hyped up on those souls, _my_ souls, you are still no match for me. Souls of the dead are my domain, I can control them as I please, you may be able to overpower my older brother, but you will not find yourself so lucky if you attempt to stand against _me_.” He snaps his fingers and the hounds fall silent, sitting at his sides, one turns to look up at the older Archangel, the humans watch, from where they can see, as Raphael _smiles_ down at it, and leans over to pet it’s head softly. “I am warning you, Castiel, stay out of _my_ way, or become my enemy, even at your strongest, you are no match, Death can be one of two things, _peaceful_ or _agonizing_ , don’t _tempt_ me.” He raises his hand, looking around the Seraph for the humans, and smiles slightly. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

He snaps his fingers and they’re gone.


	252. Under A Weeping Willow (Raphael & Joshua)

“So, how’s Miah doing?”

Semyaza smiles at his friend, Zed was always asking about Jeremiah, he was an older brother by heart, and he knew all that his younger friend had been through, and who was taking care of him now. “He’s doing better, sleeping right now, I groomed his wings before I came to meet you, always puts him to sleep.”

The two apothecaries step through the gates that lead into the Garden, and come to a pause, the once beautiful lush garden was wilting, dying. The grass a light brown, trees bare of their leaves, bushes naked, flowers wilted onto the ground, and it was _silent_. No sounds of birds singing around them. No animals roaming and playing. The Garden was _dying._ Wasting away.

Zed looks around silently. “This isn’t good.”

“No,” Semyaza shakes his head. “It is not. Let’s see if we can find Joshua and find out what’s going on.”

The Virtue nods at him, and they step forward, onto the brittle grass, it crunches under their feet, walking through a forest of bare dying trees, through dry streams and rivers, until they reach a lake, water glistening, but murky, they can’t see the ground underneath it, like they usually can, there’s an island in the middle of the lake, the only living plant in this garden is a weeping willow, lush and green, and they kneel slightly, to see under the hanging vines of leaves, their eyes spotting the person they were searching for, resting up against the trunk of the tree, just sitting there, unmoving.

“Joshua?” The Grigori calls out softly. “Joshua, the Garden is dying.”

“What’s wrong, Joshua?” Zed calls from his side. “What’s happening?”

They get no response, part of them hadn’t expected to, but they’d been hopeful. The Gardener raises a hand slightly, twirling his fingers, and bristles of thorns grow over the water, like barbed wire, keeping them from getting any closer.

It’s soft, weak, as it floats through the air around them. _‘Go away.’_

He shakes his head. “Joshua, we can’t leave you, what can we do to help?”

The thick vines of the weeping willow shake, growing, nearly blocking him from view, and Semyaza elbows his friend lightly. “Zed, go get Raph.”

“Right, right, I’ll be right back.” The Virtues apothecary sets his basket down and stands, darting in the opposite direction, and Semyaza lowers himself to sit on the dry grass. “Joshua, talk to me, tell me what’s on your mind.”

He gets no response.

“Joshua, can you even hear me?”

Still no response.

“Joshua, will you let me in?”

The response he gets to that inquiry is the thorn bushes growing higher, _okay, no, I am not allowed in, noted_.

“Joshua, has something upset you?”

There had to be something here, something that stood out, some sort of indication as to what was wrong with his friend. The Garden was dying, the only living fauna in this vast place was a weeping willow, _a weeping willow_ , Joshua was sad, something had broken his heart, he was dying from a broken heart.

“Joshua, has something broken your heart?”

He backs away as the thorn bushes expand, pushing him back, and he backs up into someone’s legs. A hand rests on top of his head, he knows who it is, Zed returns in the corner of his vision, he pushes himself to his feet as Raphael walks around him, the thorns pulling away as he nears them, the ground rising as a bridge as he walks slowly over the murky lake, and Zed comes to stand at his side.

Semyaza is mystified. “How?”

“The Garden was Raph’s first, it responds to him just as it responds to Joshua,” they watch the Archangel lift away a curtain of weeping willow branches and step inside. “He gave the Garden to Joshua when he transitioned into being the Healer.”

Between the greenery, the watch him kneel in front of the motionless Gardener, reaching a hand out to caress his cheek, he says something, but they’re too far away to hear what it is, Joshua reaches up with his own hand, curling it over the Archangel’s, saying something in return, they know he does, because the Healer nods lightly. Raphael holds his hands out, and the Gardener takes them, standing as he’s aided to his feet, and pulls him into an embrace, holding him close and tight, a hand curled around the back of his head.

It pulses, the Garden pulses, tendrils of light pules from the island in the middle of the murky lake, pulsing outwards like veins. The murkiness of the water cracks, like the chocolate shell on an ice cream cone, and dissipates, leaving the water crystal clear in it’s wake. They follow the color as it washes over the ground like a slow wave, bright colorful fish swim into the clear water, the grass underfoot strengths and rises, green soaking into the brown, vibrant and bright, they turn, watching the flowers grow and bloom, the color swirling up the cracking tree trunks, mending and painting, the branches straightening, green luscious leaves growing over the bare bark, fruit grows, blossoming and blooming, color paints over the dying Garden, bright and full and vibrant. Birds fly overhead, singing their beautiful songs, a lion and a wolf stalk out of the lush forest before them, coming to drink from the lake, they hear the sounds of waves, water rushing down the dry stream and river beds, monkeys chatter as they swing from the vines. Lilly pads creep up through the lake, accompanied with bright beautiful flowers, a frog jumps up onto one and rests.

The thorns protecting the island blow away in the breeze like silent butterflies, and they watch as flowers bloom on the weeping willow’s branches, as the Healer pulls the Gardener away, pressing their foreheads together, speaking words they cannot hear, and Joshua nods to whatever it is he spoke, turning as he’s guided around, the Archangel’s arm wrapped around his waist, and the land bridge forms as they step out over the lake together, it stays as they make their way across, as a path to the new island the Gardener had created.

Raphael smiles at them as they pass by. “Thank you.”


	253. The Blossoming Of A Relationship (Raphael & Arlo)

“Arlo,” the Archangel doesn’t look up from the chart he’s reading over his Captain’s shoulder, holding out the chart in his hand to him. “This patient is being discharged, I’ve already signed everything and given them their medicine to take with them, would you walk them through the discharge process?”

The youngling nods, though he knows the Healer can’t see, and takes the chart from him. “Yes, papa.”

Both Archangel and Virtue look up at the title, watching the boy make his way across the room, clearly not aware he’d said it, Oren’s eyes widen, turning to look up at his Archangel. “Did he just call you _‘papa’_?”

Raphael smiles, watching the young healer address the patient he’d sent him to, and nods lightly. “Yes, yes he did.”

…

“Arlo, come with me?” The youngling nods, stepping forward, walking with him as the Healer presses a hand to the small of his back. “I want to groom your wings.”

He falters, he doesn’t like having his wings groomed, it always hurts, he doesn’t like it. “Papa…”

Raphael pauses at the note of fear in the younglings tone. “Are you afraid, little one?”

Arlo swallows thickly, fingers twisting in the bottom hem of his tunic. “Hurts. Don’t like it.”

“Someone has caused you pain while grooming your wings?” He nods. “Little one, I am so sorry, I promise you, _nothing_ I do will cause you _any_ pain, can you trust me?”

The youngling bites his lip and nods. “I trust you, papa.”

“Thank you, little one, come, lets get you comfortable.” He’s led to the back of the Infirmary, to one of the back rooms, rooms that had been designated for grooming, now that the lower classes were slowly integrating into theirs. The room he’s guided into is warm, the fireplace is roaring, there’s candles glowing on the shelves behind the bed, soft music is playing from and old records player, there’s a small basin on the bedside table, a scrub brush next to it, two folded towels on the other table, oils and soaps rest in front of the small basin, and he pauses in the doorway. Fingers rub at his shoulders. “It’s alright, little one, it’s just us, have I ever hurt you?”

He shakes his head slightly. “No.”

“I’m not going to start now, we’ll take this slowly, one step at a time, if you start getting nervous, you just tell me and we’ll take a break, alright?”

Arlo nods lightly. “Okay, papa.”

“Very good, let just step in, before all the warmth gets out.” He nods, and steps forward, into the room. “I’m going to close the door, is that okay?”

“That’s okay, papa.”

“Alright.” The door clicks shut behind him, and he stares ahead, tension building in his shoulders, he trusts Raphael, but every time he gets his wings groomed it hurts, and he doesn’t want to feel that. “You’re so tense.” Fingers curl around his shoulders, massaging gently, and he sighs, leaning back into the touch. “You need to relax, I can tell you’ve never experienced a _good_ grooming before, would you like to experience mine?”

Arlo bites his lip, Raphael’s never done anything to hurt him, not since they’d gone to the Garden together and he’d been forced bottom up over that tree trunk, and he nods, he does want to see how he does it. “Yes, papa, I do.”

“Good, I’d be happy to show you, I need you to take off your shirt.” The hands pull away, and he misses them, but he pulls his top up over his head just as he’s asked to, it’s pulled from his hand gently and set to rest on the desk behind them. “Now, kick out of your boots.” He nods, looking down, as he carefully toes off his boots and pushes them up under the edge of the bed. “Now, lets move forward.” Hands return to his shoulders, guiding him closer to the bed, and then they’re gone again, the Archangel stepping out from behind him, settling himself down on the bed, and reaches up for him. “Come here, little one, let’s get you laid down.”

He takes Raphael’s hand, letting him pull him forward, up onto the bed, between his legs, and settling him down to lay on his thigh. “Now, what I’m going to do first is rub your back, is that alright?”

The young healer nods lightly, rubbing his cheek over the Healer’s thigh, curling his fingers into the bottom of his tunic lightly. “Okay, papa.”

“Good, very good.” He looks up when he sees movement, a dark hand enters his vision, fingers curling around a bottle of oil, and lifts it away. He hears the cap snap softly as it’s pulled open, a bit of movement as it’s set back down, and hands rubbing together lightly, before they press to his back, starting up at his shoulders, soothing circles are massaged into the skin, climbing slowly down his spine, and back up again. “Just relax, everything’s alright, just relax.” He feels the tension melting away as those large warm hands rub soothingly at his back, and he sighs, melting against him, he can almost _feel_ the smile being directed down at him. “Does that feel good, little one?”

“Feels good, papa, I like it.”

“I’m glad.” Thumbs rub small soothingly up the back of his neck, just under his hairline, and the back down again. “I’ll show you what a proper grooming feels like.”


	254. The Uses Of Hemlock (Raphael & Joshua)

“Oh, Raph,” the Archangel looks up at the call of his Apothecary. “I finally reduced the toxin that had poisoned Castiel and the Winchesters.”

Raphael hums, closing the chart he’d been reading through, and sets it down on his desk. “And?”

Zed holds up a plant. “Hemlock.”

…

Twirling the flowering herb between his fingers, he steps through the gates into the Garden, stepping into the colorful vibrant fauna is like coming back to a home one had been away from for as long as they can remember. The Garden responds to his presence, flowers blooming around his feet, a butterfly flies around him, landing on an outstretched finger, resting for a moment, before fluttering off again. He runs his fingers through the hanging vines as he walks down through a tunnel created from high hanging branches, birds sing above him, the Garden greeting him in its own way.

His query stands just before him, in the opening of the trees, trimming a hedge of bushes, they were allowed to grow as they pleased, but must always be presentable, it was something akin to someone getting a haircut.

“Joshua.” The Gardener freezes at the deep voice that interrupts the peace around him. “Turn around.” Joshua lowers his clippers and turns slowly, refusing to meet his eyes, looking off to the side. “Look at me, Joshua.” The younger angels eyes lift to meet his, and he steps back, the retreat of a guilty man. “Something rather interesting happened in the last couple of days, do you know what it is?”

“Umm….No?”

Raphael hums softly. “Allow me to enlighten you, then.” He folds his hands together. “I was called down to earth to assist the Winchesters, someone had poisoned them, I healed them, of course, as was what was expected from me, and brought back the substance that they had all shared before being attacked.” He hums again, watching the Gardener carefully, at every nervous tick he let’s go. “Obviously, I had Zed reduce it to find the poison it contained, and something rather curious came up, do you know what it was?”

“I….I don’t?”

“I see, well, Zed reduced it and came to find that the poison was Hemlock.” He holds the plant up, twirling the stem between his fingers, watching the younger angel closely. “Which I find to be rather curious, there are only three who would know just how lethal Hemlock is, Zed, obviously, Semyaza, for obvious reasons of course, and _you_.”

Joshua drops his clippers. “M—Me?”

“Now, I know Zed would _never_ insult me by using the knowledge I gave him for ill intent, and I know Semyaza wouldn’t waste it on someone he would see as so trivial, which leaves me one, and only one, person to go on, do you know who that person is, Joshua?”

“N—No?”

The Healer settles a _look_ on him. “Joshua, tell me the truth, did you use Hemlock to poison Castiel and his humans?”

“M—Maybe?”

“Maybe?”

The Gardener swallows thickly. “Yes, I did.”

“I suspected as such.” Raphael drops the poisonous plant to the ground and the Garden swallows it up. “Why?”

“Because….Because, they got you killed, they took you from me, and I wanted my revenge.”

He sighs, that had not been what he’d expected from him, sure, it had been an inkling, but he still hadn’t expected it. “Joshua, revenge is unbecoming, you’re a pacifist, it goes against your nature.”

“So is Salathiel.”

Raphael’s caught with that one, heaving a sigh, he shakes his head, gesturing to the forest around them. “Go find yourself a switch.”

Joshua backs up a step. “Raph, please…”

“ _Go_ , Joshua.”

The younger angel nods mutely, stepping forward, passed him, into the trees, to find what he was sent for, and he turns, following behind him slowly, watching him find a thin branch, testing its maneuverability, and carefully cleans it, before handing it over to his Archangel.

He nods to the closest tree. “Bare yourself and up against the tree, Joshua.”

“B—But..”

“Joshua.”

The young Gardener nods, slowly lowers his trousers slightly, and turns to press himself against the trunk of the tree that had been gestured to, clenching his eyes closed when he hears the switch whistle back, and shrieks when it strikes, it burns, badly, and he jumps slightly.

There’s silence between them as the comeuppance is delivered, Raphael not holding back his strength in every throw and Joshua yelping and jumping with every blow, he doesn’t sob, he holds himself back, but tears do stream down his cheeks, his fingers digging into the tree trunk harshly.

After an eternity, the blows finally stop raining down, and his muscles ache from how tense he is.

“Don’t you _ever_ abuse the knowledge I gave you _ever_ again.”

“N—Never! N—Never ag—again!”

Fingers curl around the waist of his trousers and pull them back in place, then he’s turned around, hands cradling his cheeks, thumbs rubbing the tear tracks away. “Good, I’ve missed you, little willow, very much.”


	255. Cleaning The Mess (Raphael & Salathiel)

“Okay, I’m all clean.” He turns the corner into the Archangel’s room, skin cleaned of the grime and smudge the blacksmiths were usually coated in, dreads tied up in a large bun on top of his head. “I won’t dirty up your _precious_ bed.”

“Good, I love you, but not enough to allow you to smear that guck on my bed.” Raphael gestures for him to come forward. “Come, now it’s time to groom your wings.”

Salathiel smiles, he likes having his wings groomed, it’s relaxing and soothing, and pushes off the doorframe, stepping into the Archangel’s room, closing the door behind him quietly, he takes a running start and jumps up onto his bed, landing sprawled on his belly. His Archangel yelps, and chuckles softly, scratching at the back of his head, patting him on the shoulder. “Are you proud of yourself, jumping at me like that?”

“It fit my needs.”

“I see, well then, I’m glad I could be of service to your needs.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders and back first, or groom your wings first, which way are you feeling at the moment?”

“Uumm….” Salathiel hums softly, rubbing at the emerald pendant hanging down his Archangel’s chest, and lays his head down on his thigh. “Well, the first part usually puts me to sleep, and I don’t want to go to sleep yet, but then, so does the second part, so I don’t know.”

“It’s up to you, you’ve just got to tell me how you want this to go.”

He sighs softly. “Groom my wings first.”

“Alright.” A finger strokes gently between his shoulder blades, he feels that slight pressure, and stretches his wings out widely before pulling them back in, fingers curl around the ridge of his wing, pulling it out slightly. “Sala, these are atrocious, they’re covered in guck.”

“I sort of can’t help it.”

Raphael huffs softly, letting go of his left wing, reaching over for the scrub brush. “We’re going to groom your wings every night.”

“ _Every_ night?”

“ _Every_ night.”

Salathiel groans softly, reaching over to cover his face with his hand. “Ugh….Fine….I guess, it’s okay.”

“I’m glad I got the permission from you that I wasn’t asking for.” He dips the brush into the sudsy warm water, takes the bar of soap, and rests back, rubs the bristles and soap together, sets the bar down on the youth’s shoulders, and stretches his molten orange-red wing out, starting at the top, scrubbing in small soothing circles. “Do you want my pendant?”

His blacksmith nods mutely, and he sighs, setting the brush down, pulling the chain up over his head, and passes it down to the youngling. Salathiel takes it from him, holding it in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the emerald pendant silently, and he returns to his scrubbing, repeating the process of dipping it in the water and rubbing it to the soap over and over again, loosening the grime and sludge coating the feathers, he works his way down the length of the wing. Tapping the basin of murky water, it clears under a touch from his grace, and he cleans the brush off, before returning to mopping up the gunk covering his wings, scrubbing a tad firming to ensure he’s getting under the feathers, replaces the scrub brush with a hand towel, mopping up the slick coating of gunk, leaving wet clean feathers.

Reaching for a clean towel, he rubs the feathers dry, trades the towels out for a brush, the bristles are soft, but firm, and it’s used to set the bristles of the feathers back in place, like a brush does for messy hair, a few gentle strokes is all that’s needed, and he sets the brush back down. He sifts through the feathers, tugging out the loose ones free and straightening others, heaving a sigh, he pulls the hooks out from the inside, shaking his head as he tosses them over to rest on the bedside table.

The oil moisturizes and protects the feathers, and he rubs it into each and every individual feather, taking it slow and steady, he doesn’t want to miss anything, especially for this particular angel’s line of work, his feathers needed as much moisture as they could get.

“Can you put the hooks back in?”

“ _No_ ,” Raphael hums deeply. “I am _not_ putting the hooks back in.”

“Just thought I’d ask,” He presses his lips to the pendant, it feels like Archangel, his grace resonates within the pendant. “I’ll put them back in later.”

“You will _not_ , Salathiel.”

“I will _not_ put them back in later.”

“Very good.” He moves on to the second wing and starts over, listening to the blacksmith whisper enochian blessings into his pendant, and he smiles lightly as he listens to him, working slowly but diligently through the second wings, pulling the hooks out first this time. “Are you staying with me tonight?”

“Can I?”

“You know you are always welcome.”

“Yea, I’m staying with you tonight.”

“You’d best tell Michael, then, he’s making steak tonight, you’d best be sure he sets one out for you.”

“Ely will tell him.”

“Good.” He finishes the second wing quickly, but assured that it was done right, and rubs his hands over the feathers soothingly. “Tuck your wings away and I’ll rub your back and shoulders.”

Salathiel sighs, rolling his shoulders, pulling at his grace to cloak his wings back into their metaphysical dimension.

Raphael leans over for the oil again, pouring a good amount into his hand, sets the bottle back down, rubs his hands together, and presses his palms into the blacksmiths back, smiling at the immediate groan he receives, they’re always so tense, so many knots, from their laborious days in the Furnace. The youngling curls his fingers around his pendant and pulls it in close, closing his eyes comfortably. “I heard you were working on something new, care to share?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, is it?” He rubs his thumbs up the back of the youth’s neck. “I’ve almost always enjoyed your surprises; can I get a hint?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I gave you a hint and you figured it out.”

“Just a small hint?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Raph, stop being such a fledgling, I’m not telling you.”


	256. The Consequences Of Stalling (Abraxos & Hamaliel)

He kicks his boots off next to the entrance of their home. “Oh, Hama, guess what time it is?” Rubbing at his arm, he steps forward, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’m feeling particularly _monstrous_ today, this is going to be a bad one, I can just _feel_ it.” He slowly makes his way through the lounge. “The claw brothers have been waiting _all_ week to see you.” Passed the kitchen. “I’ve been saving so _many_ berries for you.” And slowly makes his way down the hall. “We haven’t had any tickles in _so_ long.” He turns to stand in the door way of his room. “So, we’re going to have _so_ many now.” He smiles, listening to the soft giggles coming from under his bed. “Can you feel them, all those tickles, can you feel them on your little tummy, on all those little tickle spots, can you feel them?” Those giggles grow in quantity. “The claw brothers having a go at that little belly, a good go, getting every little inch of it. Did you miss them as much as they missed you?”

He pushes forward, standing at the foot of his bed, squatting slightly, tilting his head to peer under, feet rest just underneath.

_‘Not the claws! Eeehehehhehehhe nohhohohoot thehehehe clahahahahaws!’_

“Lots of claws, because I _know_ how much _you_ love them.” He reaches under the bed, curling his fingers around the boy’s ankles, he squeals softly as he tugs him out from his hiding spot, and stands, lifting him from the ground by his ankles. Hamaliel giggles wildly, swinging from his grip, waving his arms around, and he smiles down at him. “Hello, my little one.”

“Hi, papa!”

Abraxos smiles down at him, swinging him lightly, making him shriek with giggles. “I’ve been rather busy lately, I missed spending time with my beloved little hummingbird.”

“I missed you too, papa!”

“Well, guess what?”

Hamaliel giggles. “What!”

“Now that the graduation ceremony has passed, I have all sorts of time to spend with you.”

“Really!”

The Power nods. “Really.”

The youngling lifts his arms. “Papa, flip me over!”

“Okay, roll up.” Hamaliel curls upwards, and Abraxos rocks him a tad harder, before tossing him around, leaning over to catch him around the middle, and the youth curls around him, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist. “Are you happy?”

“I’m really happy!”

He chuckles softly. “You’re wearing one of my sweaters.”

“It’s the softest!”

“Yours are made from the same materiel.”

“It smells like you!”

He chuckles again, kissing him on the cheek lightly. “I’ll give you that one.” He pecks the tip of his nose. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Time for cuddles?”

“No, that comes after.”

“Time for a nap?”

“That comes after, too.”

The youngling giggles softly, pressing their foreheads together. “Is it tickle time?”

“I knew you’d get it, it most certainly is, lots of tummy tickles are in store for you.” He pecks his nose again. “I’m missed my littlest chubby tickle tummy, so, so much.” He brushes their noses together. “I heard _someone_ ate the last of Puri’s double chocolate chip cookies.”

“I didn’t want them to go to waste, there’s kids starving in the world, and I wanted to make sure none of you guys were tempted, you had to look your best for the graduation ceremony.”

“Oh, I see, you’re quite the humanitarian, then.”

“I was just doing my part.”

“I see, are you going to help Puri make more cookies?”

Hamaliel nods slightly. “Mhmm. He said if I eat a lot of dough again he’s going to hold me down and do the claws on my belly for a whole fifteen minutes!”

Abraxos chuckles softly. “I’d take his warning to heart; he doesn’t make threats he doesn’t intend to carry through on.”

“I know! He said that he’d hold me down and blow berries on my belly for five whole minutes once if I hid his sword again, and I did, cause I didn’t think he actually would, and he _did_!”

“How was that experience?”

“Well, it was fun, but Puri was mean!” Hamaliel takes a deep breath. “Berries over my belly button are the _worst_ and Puri _knows_ that and blew nearly every berry there and it was so bad that I cried!”

“Like you did when you went through your initiation?”

“Yea!”

“Puri’s a big meanie, isn’t he?”

“The biggest!”

The Power smiles, pecking his nose again. “Am _I_ a big meanie?”

His charge giggles softly. “No, you’re not a meanie, papa, I like it when you give me tickles.”

“You do?”

“Yea, I mean, I like it when the others give me tickles too, but I really like it when you do, because it’s just you and me, and sometimes you get really busy and can’t really spend a lot of time with me, so when you give me tickles it makes me happy, because it’s fun, and it’s just us, and then we get a lot of time together after, and it makes me feel better that I didn’t get to spend very much time with you ‘cause you’d been really busy.”

“Oh, my little one, I’m sorry.” He kisses him on the nose again. “Now that the graduation is out of the way, I’m going to have _much_ more free time, and we’ll spend all of it together, sometimes you might have to share it with the others, but the time we spend in here after we retire for the night, that’s _our_ time.”

“I know!”

“Good.” He pecks his nose again. “Now, I love our talks, but we’re cutting into chubby tummy torture time, and I _need_ my chubby tummy torture time, and I just so happen to _know_ that your stalling the inevitable chubby tummy torture, and you know what happens when you do that, don’t you?”

Hamaliel giggles brightly. “Extra time with the claws!”

“That’s right, you get extra time with the claws, you naughty little angel you, trying to keep me from my beloved chubby tummy torture time, you know what you’re going to get now as a punishment?”

Hamaliel giggles harder and shakes his head. “No!”

“An _extra_ bad tummy torture.”

The youngling shakes his head, giggling hard. “Papa, no! That’s mean!”

“Perhaps this’ll help you remember never to keep my chubby tummy torture time from me, it’s much better just to let me have it, then it is to fight it, because papa’s going to get it either way, but if you try and keep it from me, it’s going to be _so_ much _worse_.” He smiles at him. “And, to make sure you don’t get too wild and squirm around too much, I’m going to hold you down with my grace.”

“Papa, that’s _cheating_!”

“No, it’s not, it’s just the same as when Thaddy straps you down, and, it’s being _resourceful_.” Abraxos smiles, tossing the boy up onto his bed, Hamaliel shrieks, kicking out as he flies through the air, bouncing slightly as he lands on his back, landing sprawled on his back, he tries to move, and finds that he can’t, and glares at him. “Hey, no glaring, you know you’re not allowed to glare at me, that only gets you _more_ tickles.”

The Power climbs up slowly, laying himself over his legs, and releases his grace on them, let him kick as much as he can, he’s not getting away. “Now, it’s _extra_ bad tummy torture time.” He pokes around the chubby little tummy, Hamaliel giggles and wiggles under him. “Let’s begin.” And wiggles his fingers over his tummy, all over, circling tickles over his tummy.

“Papa noohohohohohohohooe eeieieieieiaiaiiaaiaahahhahahahahahahhahahaa aaahahahahhahahahahahahahahaaa nohohohohohohot thehehehehehheheheeerreeeheheheehhehee! Nohohohohohohot thehehehehehhehehee toohohohohohohooes eeieieieiaiiaiaiaaahhahahahahahahahahaha aahahahahahahhahahahahahaa aahahahahahahahahahha aeeieieieiaiaiaaahahahahahhhaahhahahahahaha nanaanaahhahahahahahhahahahahahahhaa ihihihihihit tihihihihihiihickles! Ihihihihihiit tihihihihihickles! Eieeeieieiaaeiiaaiaaaahahahahahahahahahahaa nohohohhoohohohot nihihihihihiibbles! Nohohohohohot nihihihihihibbles! Eeeieiieieiaiaiaaahhaahhahahahhahahaa ahahaahhahaahhahahahahah aaahahahahahahahahahaahaa!”

He moves from one side to the other, the boy shrieking and squealing with laughter all the while, his legs kicking wildly, the only thing he can move, other then his head, and he tosses his head from side to side, pressing it back against the pillow under him. “Now, it’s time for some berries.”

“Papa! NoooOOOOHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHEAHAHHAAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIIAIEIEIAEIEIEIEEAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAA ANOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOE EEEHEHEHEHHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA EEIEIEIEIEAIIAIAAAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAEEEAEEIEIEIEIEIEAIAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAA NANANAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHHOT THOHOHOHOHHOOHOSE! EEIEIEEIAIAIAAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAAEAEEAIEIEIEIEIEIAEIEAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! PAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAPAPAPAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO EIEIEIEIAIIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA!”

He pulls away, letting the youngling catch his breath, smiling when his eyes widen as he holds his hands up for him to see. “Guess what time it is now.”

“Nohohoho!”

“Guess who’s here for an _extra_ -long visit.”

Hamaliel shakes his head. “Nohohot thehehe clahhahaw brohohothers!”

Abraxos nods. “The claw brothers have been dying to get to their favorite chubby tummy, they’ve waited so patiently, they can’t wait anymore.”

“Pahahhapapaahahahaha nohohoho! Nohohot thehehehe clahahhaaws! Nohohot thohohohose!”

His guardian holds his hands up. “Let’s see if they’re ready for some tummy torture.”

“Nohohoho!”

“They’re ready.”

The boy screams when those fingers claw in, arching his back, kicking his legs.

“EEEEIEIEIEIEIAIIHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA ANOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO EEEAIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHAHAHHAHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! EIEIEIEAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAEEAAAEAEEAAEEAEEAAEAAAEAEEEEEEAAAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA STOHOHOHOHOOP STOHOHHOHOHOOP! NOHHOHOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHAHHAAWS! NOHHOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHAHAHAWS! EIEIEIEIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHA PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! PAHAHAHAHHAAPAPAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAA ANOHOHOHOHHOOHOHOO CLAHAHAHHAHAAWS! NOHOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHAHHAAWS! EEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAA AEEIEAIEIEIEIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAAHAHAHHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHHAHAAKE THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAAAWS! NOHOHOHHOHO MOHOHOHOHOREEEIEIEIAIAEIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAA AEEEEEEIEIIEIEAIIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE CLAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAWS EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAEEEAEAAEEEEEEAAAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEEHEEASE! PAHAHAHHAHAAPPAPAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA PLEHEHEHHEEEAAHHAAHHAHAHAHHAASE! EEIEIIEAIIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOO AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA PAAHAHAHAHHAAPAPAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA NOHOHHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE CLAHAHAHAHAHAWS!”

The claws pull away for a moment, fingers still wiggling, hovering over his shaking tummy, and he watches them both with wide alarmed eyes, shaking his head frantically.

Abraxos smiles at him. “And, again.”

“EEIEIEIIEAIIAIAIAAIAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAAHA AAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHHOOT AHAHAHAHHAAGAIAHAAHHAAAN NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO EIEIEIAIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA APLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! EEIEIIEAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHA AEIEAIEAIEAIAIAIAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOT THEEHEHEHEHEHHEE CLAHAHAHHAHAW BROHOHOHOHOHOTHERS! EIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA GOHOHOHOHOHOHO AWAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAY GOHOHOHO AWAAHAHHAAHHAHAAAY CLAHAHAHAHAHHAAW BROHOHOHOHOHOTHER’S! EEIEIEIAIIAEEIAAEIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAA AIAIEIEIEIEEEEHEHEHHEAHAEHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA AAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHHOHO MOHOHOHHOHOHORE NOHHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORE! EEEIEAIIEAIAEIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAAAAAAHAAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH AEEAEAEEAIAEIEIEIIAEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAPAPAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOOHOHOHOHOO! EEIEIEIAIAEIAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE CLAHAHHAHAHAHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHHOOHOHOHOHOHORE CLAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAWS! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AEIEAIEAIEAIIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEHEASE PLEEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! EIEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE CLAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAWS! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEAASE! EEEEIEIIAIAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA YOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR BEHEHEHEHHEHEEING MEHEHEHEHHEAN! YOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR BEHEHEHEHHEEEING MEEHEHHEHEHEHEAN! EIEEIIEAIAIIAIAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAA! IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M TEHEHEHEHEHEELLING NIHIHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS! EIEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M TEHEHEHEHEHEELLING! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’M TEHEHEHEHHEELLING OHOHOHOHOHON YOHOHOHOHOU!”

Those claws pull away. “You’re going to tell on me?”

Hamaliel giggles and nods. “I’m tehehellin’!”

Abraxos smiles at him, leaning in closer. “You wouldn’t.”

The youngling nods again. “Am too!”

“Are not.”

“Are too!”

“Are not.”

“Are too!”

They’re face to face now, Abraxos smiles at him, and Hamaliel giggles softly. “Are not.”

Hamaliel giggles again, licking him on the nose lightly, and he laughs softly, wrapping his arms around the boy, releasing his grace, and turns them over, the youngling wraps his arms around his neck and giggles, resting on his chest. “Are not.”

“That’s what I thought, you little sneak, that’s what I thought.”


	257. Bullying The Youngest (Hamaliel, Puriel, Rahatiel, & Sablo)

“Paaaapppaaaaaaa!” Hearing that name being shouted in that kind of tone, the kind of tone that comes just before someone breaks down into gut wrenching sobs, the type of tone that shines through with so much pain, brings him to spin around in the direction of it’s origin. “Paaapppaaaaa!”

Hamaliel is running at him, tear tracks making his cheeks shine, and he bends slightly at the knee, catching him up around the middle as he crashes into him, pulling him up into his arms, sending a sharp glare at his trainees when they pause.

Abraxos turns slightly, cradling the back of the boy’s head. “What’s wrong, hummingbird, you were so happy to be helping me today.”

“T—They said! T—T—They said I—I w—was like a—a—a walrus be—because I—I—I was f—fat!”

“ _What?”_ He feels a simmering rage course through his veins. “ _Who_ said this to you?”

The youngling turns slightly, pointing to the two watching them with widened eyes, they clearly hadn’t know that the young angel was the boy of a _Power,_ let alone the _second oldest_ Power. “T—They did!”

He glares at them a glare so horrid that they back up a step as he steps forward, approaching them slowly, a predator stalking it’s pray, tucking the younglings head down against his shoulder. “You two, Nisroc’s office, _now_ , you will tell him why I sent you there, and you will tell him the _truth_ , I will ask him what you confessed to, and if it’s _not_ the truth, _I_ will dismiss you _myself_.” They stare at him in horror, good, they should be frightened, and he takes a threatening step forward. _“Go!”_ The pair of them drop their swords and dart around him.

Abraxos turns, eyes skimming over heads for his oldest boy, Puriel stands out, wearing a red tunic in a sea of gray, and he zones in, as he crosses over the training field.

The medic looks up at him in concern at the sight of him holding his youngest brother in his arms. “Puri, gather your brothers, come upstairs.” And, he turns, marching across the field, knowing that his oldest boy would do as he’d said.

…

“Abe, what’s going on?” Rahatiel is the one who calls out as they all crest the top of the stairs, his eyes shining with concern at their sniffling baby brother. “Is Hama okay?”

He grinds his teeth for a moment, jerking his head sharply, and turns to press a kiss to the side of the boy’s head. “Someone called your brother a walrus, they said it was because he was fat.”

Puriel frowns deeply. “Someone made fun of that adorable little chubby tummy?”

“They did.” He nods sharply. “He’s upset, and we’re going to cheer him up.”

Rahatiel nods, elbowing Sablo, and they both step forward. “Got it, papa, we’ll help you hold him, Puri, you get the claws.” The older Power reaches around, curling his fingers around the youngling’s wrists, and pulls him back, Sablo comes up to his side, curling his arms under him, to keep him from dangling, as he’s stretched out between the two older Powers, Puriel steps up to his other side, staring him in the eyes as he slowly tugs his tunic up, uncovering his belly.

Hamaliel stares up at him, giggling watery little giggles when he holds his hands up, shaped into claws. “The claw brothers will help cheer you up.” He squeals brightly when those fingers claw into his belly, squirming in the grip of the others, bright peals of laughter echoing around them. “There we go, that’s much better, this belly needs some love.”

“EEEEEIEIEIEIIEEIEIEIAAIIAAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA NOHOHHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHHEHEHEE CLAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAWS! PUUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUUHUURRIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHII! EEIEIEIEIAIIAIAIAIAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAA AEEEIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHHHOHOHOHOP! IHIHIHIHIIT TIIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHICKLES! THEHEHEHEHEHHEEHEY TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLE! EEIEIEIEIEIIAAIIAAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA STOOHOHOHOHOHHOHOOP STOHOHOHOHOHHOP! NOHOHOHOHOHO CLAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAWS! EEEIEIEIEIAIAIIAIAAIAAHAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M NOHOHOHOHOOHOT UHUHUHHUHUUPPSSSEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEET AHAHAHAHHAANAANYMOOHOHOHOHOHORE! EEIEIEIEIEIAIIIAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHHOOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! NOHOHOHOHHOHOOT CLAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAWS!”

Puriel smiles, pulling away from his cackling baby brother, looking up at his other two younger brothers. “Think he’s cheered up, yet?”

Rahatiel smirks slightly, meeting his youngest brothers eyes, and Hamaliel stares, because he _knows_ what that smirk means. “I think baby brother needs some _quality_ time with his big brothers. He needs their help to feel better again.”

“No! No, I don’t! I’m better! I swear! I’m better!”

The Power hums, shooting a glance to his other half, and Sablo nods, lifting him slightly, so that his older half can tug their youngest brothers tunic up over his head, and tosses it up to rest on his shoulder.

Abraxos chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Just don’t kill him, people will say I’m a bad guardian if they never see him again.”

“Papa, I’m insulted, we would _never_ harm our precious baby brother.”

“Sure, sure.” He nods lightly, letting go of his young charge when Sablo nods at him, he’s got him. “Have fun, I’ve got to get back to my trainees.”

Hamaliel gulps slightly as he looks between his three older brothers smiling faces, cradled in Sablo’s arms, and shakes his head. “Guys, don’t!”

The medic boops him on the nose and addresses the other two. “We’ll take him to my room.”

Abraxos leaves them as they turn down the hall, taking their captive younger brother with them, and shakes his head as he makes his way downstairs to the training field. He almost feels bad for the boy.

Almost.

Puriel opens the door and steps in, gesturing for them to come in too, and closes the door behind them, the lights coming to life at their entrance. “Set our little prisoner down on the bed.”

He tries to squirm away when he’s tossed down on the bed, he really does, but Puriel limbs up to lay over his legs, and Sablo and Rahatiel hold him down with their grace, and he whines, at the unfairness of it all, three against one was completely unfair, and they were meanies, _especially_ when they ganged up on him.

His oldest brother pats his belly lightly. “So, what should we do first, we’ve got this cute little chubby tummy all to ourselves.”

Rahatiel rubs at his chin lightly. “Nibbles?”

Sablo rests on his elbows. “Flutters?”

Puriel wiggles his fingers in the youngling’s lower belly and he shrieks with giggles. “Claws?”

The resurrected Power raises a finger. “Oh, I know!”

“What?” Sablo looks across to his gracemate. “Don’t leave us hanging.”

He smiles at them. “ _Berries!”_

His soulmate nods. “Ooh, berries are fun.”

The medic hums softly. “I like me some berries.”

Hamaliel looks between them all in horror, that was so _unfair_ , this _entire_ thing was so unfair. “NO! No! You guys stay away from me! Let me go! Don’t! No berries! None! Let me go!”

Puriel smiles at him lightly. “Let’s enjoy some berries.”

He watches them with wide eyes, shaking his head when they take a deep breath in unison, and _screams_ when they bury their faces in his belly, and blow three massive raspberries into his belly at the same time. “AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAA EEIEIEIEIAIIEAIAAIAAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO EEEEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAEAEEAEEHEEIEIEIEIIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA THAHAHAHHAHAHAHAT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAHAHAHAAIR! IHIHIHIHIHHHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHHAHAHAAIR! EEIEIEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAA AAEEAAEEEEIEIEIEIEIIEAIAIAEIAIAEAANANAAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA! NOHOHOHOHOHO STOOHOHOHHOHOHOHOOP EEIEIIEIEAIIEAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAEEEAAAEEAEAEEEIEIIEIEAIAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOHHOOP! YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR MEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHAHHAEHAHAHAHAANIES! BIHIHIHIHHIHIHIHIIG MEHEHEHHEHEANIES! EEIEIEIEIEIAIAIIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE BEHEHEHEHHEEERRIEES! EEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOORE! PLEHEHEHHEHEEEEASE! EEIEIEIEAIAIIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! IHIHHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHHAHAAID PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! EEIEIEIAIIAIAAIAAHAHHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAEEAAEEEAAAEAIEIAEIIEEIEAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!”

They laughs as they pull away, watching him giggle wildly, as he brings himself back under control, smiling down at him fondly. “You good?”

Hamaliel smiles, nodding lightly, still giggling softly under his breath. “I’m okay.”

Rahatiel smiles at him, looking to his other two brothers. “Claws?”

“Claws.”

The youngling screams when six hands, thirty fingers, claw into his belly. “EEEEEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHA ANOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! THAHAHAHAHAHAT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHHAHAAIR! THAHAHAHHAHAHAAT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHHAHAHAAIR! TOHOHOHOHOHOHOOO MAHAHAHHAHAHAANY CLAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAWS! NNOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT CLAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAWS! EEIEIEIEIIAIAIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AHAHAHAHHAAEEAHAEHEHEHAHAEAEAEAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA PLEEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEEASE! PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEHEHHEHEEASE! NOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOO MOHOHOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHIHIHII CAHAHAHHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHHAAKE IHHIHIHIHIHIHIT! PLEEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEEASEEEIEIEIIEIAIAIAIAAAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEEAAHAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA BIHIHIHIHIHIG BROOHOHOHOHOOTHERS! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOORE!”

Puriel nods at the other two and they all pull away, Hamaliel giggles deliriously, curling up when they let him go, wrapping his arms around his belly protectively, in case they get any sneaky ideas.

Laughing softly, the three of them climb up to sit with him, Puriel and Rahatiel rest back against the pillows and tug him up to rest between them, Sablo sits at his feet, pulling them into his lap, massaging gently.

“Baby brother,” he tugs on his big toe until he looks down at him. “Don’t you listen to a word they say. You are absolutely perfect.”

“I am?”

Puriel and Rahatiel both press a kiss to his cheeks. “You are. You most certainly are.”

Hamaliel smiles, curling his arms through both Powers, hugging them close. “I love you guys.”

Sablo smiles up at him. “We love you too, baby brother, very much.”


	258. Going Through Initiation. Again. (Nisroc, Abraxos, & Rahatiel)

“Guys…..Guys, this isn’t cool.” Rahatiel looks between both of them cautiously, stuck to his papa’s bed, arms raised above his head, topless, and at their mercy. “This really isn’t cool.”

Abraxos smiles at him. “You know what _else_ isn’t cool?” He wiggles a finger into his side and the younger Power bites his lip to keep from giggling. “Making jokes about _dying_ , that’s not cool, Raha.”

“I’ve already been through initiation!” Raha shakes his head. “ _Four_ times!”

“Ah,” Nisroc hums softly. “Not since you’ve been back, though.”

“What about Sab! You get me and you get him too!”

“No, don’t you worry, Raph told us how to close the bond between you two, this is _your_ initiation, not his.”

Rahatiel bites his lip. “Guys, please, please don’t.”

His Captain smiles at him. “We’ve got to, Raha, every young Power has to go through it, if they want to be one of my Powers.”

“I _already_ am one of your Powers!”

“Yes, you are, but you need to go through initiation to _maintain_ that place.”

Abraxos pokes him in the belly. “If you don’t, you can’t be a Power, do you really want to forfeit that position?”

“I forfeit.”

Both older Powers laugh softly, poking around his belly, and he giggles madly. “Sorry, that’s not an option for you, your initiation has already be slated and started.”

Abraxos smiles, poking around his belly. “I’ve missed this chubby belly very much. I never thought I’d see it again. Now, it’s my time to _really_ get my claws into it again.” Nisroc nods in agreement, circling a finger around his belly button. “I did, too, little brother, I did too, I only got to play with this tummy a few times before it was taken from me, and now that I have it _back_ , I’m going to play with it _very_ often.”

“Guhuhuys!” Raha squirms as much as he can in their binds. “Stohohop!”

He goes ignored as both older Powers look up to each other. “Abe, shall we?”

The second oldest Power nods firmly. “I believe we shall.”

Nisroc hums softly. “He was your Elect; you start us off.”

“Thank you, older brother.” Raha stares at his mentor as he raises his hands, slowly, ever so slowly, form into claws, and he shakes his head, he shakes his head frantically, he _can’t_ stand the claws, he can’t, those are the _worst_. “Guess who’s so dearly missed you.”

“Abe! Abe, no! No! No, no, no! Stay away from me! You keep _those_ away from me!”

“They’ve missed you so much.” Abraxos looks up to his brother. “Nis, did the big brothers miss him too?”

Raha turns to look at his Captain, his eyes widening when he raises his own hands, slowly forming them into claws, and he shakes his head again, looking between those four hands with wide alarmed eyes.

“They did, Abe, they most certainly did.”

“Guys! Guys, no! No! No! No, no, no! Stay away from me! Keep those away from me!” He struggles as their hands draw nearer and nearer. “No! Guys, no! Keep them away! No claws! Not those!” They hover over his belly. “Guys! Don’t you dare! _Don’t you dare!_ ”

“Don’t you dare?” Abraxos sounds amused. “Are you _threatening_ us?”

“Do it and find out!”

Nisroc chuckles softly. “It definitely sounds like it.”

“I think that calls for some kind of punishment, don’t you?”

He nods. “I think it does, I really do.”

“Extra claw time?”

Raha shakes his head. “No! No! Not extra! No!”

“I think that sounds suitable, extra claw time, I think that fits the crime.”

Rahatiel screams when four claws dig into his belly, clawing all over, and arches his back, throwing his head back against the pillow. “AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAEAEHAEHAEEAEIEIEIEIIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAA! NOHHHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHHOOHOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEAIAIIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NNANANAAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA EEEIEEIIEIEIEIAIIAEIAIAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ANANAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAWS! NOHOHOHOHOOT THOHOHOHOSE NOOAOAOAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHHOHOHOHOHOT CLAHAHAHAHHAHAAWS NOHOHOHOHOHOOT THOHOHOHOSE! AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHEHEAHEEEAEAAEEEIIEIEAIEAIAIEAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHA! NOHHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! EEEIEIEIIEAIIEAIAIIAAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AANANANAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAEEAAEAEEAEIEIEIEIAIIAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES! IHIHIHIHIHIT TIHHIHIHIHIHIIHIHIICKLES! NIIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIS! PAHAHHAHAHAAPAPAPAAAHAHHAHAHAHHAAA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOO CLAHAHAHAHAHHAAWS! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE CLAHAHAHHHAHHAAWS!”

They pull away for a moment, their clawed hands hovering over his belly, and he giggles loudly, panting softly. “Nohoho mohohore! Plehehease! Nohoho mohohore! Nohohoho mohohohore clahahahaws! Nohohohoo mohohhore!”

“More claws?”

“More claws.”

He screams again, bouncing slightly, his fingers curling into fists, when those fingers claw back in. “EEEEIEIEIEIEIEAIAIIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA ANANAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOT CLAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHHAHAAWS! EEEEIEIEIEIIIEIEIEIEIAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAANT TAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIIT! EEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA ANANAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAEEAEAEAEIAIEAIEAIIAIIAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA NOHOHHOHOHOOT CLAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! IHIHIHIHI HAHAHAHAHHAATE THEHEHEHEHHEE CLAHAHAHAHAHAHAWS! AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA THEHEHEHHEHEHEEY’RE SOHOHHOHOHOHOHO BAHAHHAHAHAHAAD! EEEIEEIIEIEAIAIIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAA NAANAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA PLEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEEASE PLEEHEHEHEHHEHEHEEASE NOHOHOHOHHOHOHOO MOOHOHOHOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE CLAHAHAHAHAHHAAWS! NOHOHOHOO MOHHOHOHOHOHORE CLAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAWS!”

He would have sighed in relief when those torturous claws finally pulled away, if he weren’t giggling so hard, panting as his lungs fought to get as much oxygen in as they could. Nisroc and Abraxos smile at the panting mess they’ve made between them, rubbing at his belly gently, trying to help soothe him into catching his breath.

Rahatiel takes a minute to get himself under control, and finally looks down at them, taking comfort in the rubbing of his belly. “No….more….please….no….more!”

“Sorry, little fella, but your initiation isn’t quite over with yet.” Nisroc pats his belly lightly. “But, you’re doing great.”

Abraxos rubs soothing circles over his belly. “And, we’ll let you have a couple minutes. We’re mean. But, we’re not cruel.”

He finally gets his giggling under control, his lungs breathing freely again, not panting for the much needed oxygen. “You _are_ cruel.”

“Oh, we _are_ , are we.” The rubbing hand pauses. “Want more claws?”

His eyes widen, giggling frantically just at the thought of the claws, and shakes his head quickly. “No! No claws! No! I take it back! I take it back!”

“So, just to be sure, we’re _not_ cruel?”

“No! No, you’re very nice! Very nice! Very, very nice!”

Abraxos returns to rubbing his belly again. “That’s what I thought.”

Nisroc chuckles. “We’re a tad cruel.”

“Okay, I see your point, we are a tad cruel.”

Rahatiel giggles softly. “Why can’t I say it!”

“Because, you’re not allowed to.”

Their Captain smiles softly, looking up to his younger brother, Abraxos stops rubbing his belly and looks up to meet his Captain’s eyes. “Do you think that’s been enough of a break?”

The second oldest nods lightly. “I think that’s enough.”

“Very good, what should we do to this little tummy now?” He wiggles a finger in his belly button and Rahatiel shrieks with giggles. “I, for one, am inclined to the claws, but what’s on your mind?”

Abraxos hums softly. “I’m not sure, there’s just so much; berries, nibbles, flutters, claws, there’s just so much, big brother, I don’t know what I want to do.”

Nisroc nods lightly. “Okay, what’s your second favorite, after claws, what’s number two?”

Without hesitation. “Berries.”

“Okay, baby brother, let’s enjoy some berries.”

“I’d like some berries.”

“Then, by all means.” Nisroc waves a hand over their younger brother’s belly. “Let’s have some berries.”

Rahatiel looks between them as they lean over him, eyeing his belly playfully, and struggles in his invisible binds. “Let’s not! Let’s not have berries! Let’s have some veggies instead, doesn’t that sound nice, let’s have some greens!”

“Nis, I see a berry.”

“You do?” The oldest Power smiles. “I see one too, shall we enjoy them?”

“I think we should.”

He shakes his head, his eyes widening, when they both take a deep breath, and lower themselves down to his belly. “No! NO! NOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO EEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAEAAEAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA ABABAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAA! EIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIAIAAIAIAEIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHOO BEEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEERRIEEHEHEHEHEES! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO EIEIEIIEAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS PAHAHAHHAHAPAPAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHHOORE NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE PLEHEHEHEHEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOHO EIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOOHOHOHO MOOHOHOHOHOHORE BEHEHEHHEHEHEERRIIEEEEIEIEIEIAIIIAAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE BEHEHEHHEHEHEERRIEEHEHHEHEHES! IHIHIHIHIHIHII CAHAHAHAHHAAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIIT! IHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHHAAHHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT! MEHEHEHEHHERCY MEHEHEHEHERCY PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! NOHOHHOHOHO EIEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOREEIEIEIIEIEAIEAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAEEAAEEAEAEIAIAIAEIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHOHOHOO MOHOHOHOHOORE! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHHOHOHOHOHOHORE BEHEHEHEHHEHEERRRIEIEEEHHEHEHEHHEHEES! PLEHEHEHHEHEHEHEEEASE PREEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEEETTY PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEAEAAAHAAHAHHAASE!”

“Time for the extra claws?”

“Time for the extra claws.”

“NOHOHOHOHOHHOHOOE EEIEIEIEIAIAIAIEAIEAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHOT TTHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! THEHEHEHEHEHHEEY TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLE! THEHEHEHEHHEHEEEY TIHIHIHIHHIHIHIHIICKLE SOHOHOHOHOHO BAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAD! PLEHEHEHEHAHEAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHHEHEEEASE! NOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE! EEIEIEIEIIEAIAIAIAIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA EEEIEIIEAIAIIAAHIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOT CLAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAWS! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’M GOHOHOHOHOING TOHOHOHOHOHO DIHIHIHIHIHIE! EEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAEEAEAAAEAEAAEAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAHAAAAEEIEIEIIAIAIIIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAAHA ANANAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”

They pull away, and he just giggles deliriously, clenching his eyes closed.

Nisroc chuckles softly, and he feels him rub a finger under his eye. “We made our little guy cry.”

“That we did, Nis,” fingers stroke over his cheek. “That we did. Do you think he passed initiation?”

“I think he did.”

Abraxos hums softly. “Should we take care of our little rabbit, now?”

“I think he needs some tender care, now.”

They push themselves up, huffing softly as they do, and Rahatiel feels the slight weight keeping him in place lift and he curls his arms around himself. Nisroc stokes the fire, and Abraxos slips in above him, reaching down to pull him in close, resting back against his chest, between his legs, and rubs his tummy soothingly. “There we go, settle on down, there we go.” He takes a few minutes to catch his breath and get his giggling under control. Nisroc pulls the blanket up over him, patting him in the cheek lightly, as he slides in next to them, ruffling his hair lightly. “I missed you, little rabbit, I’m awfully glad you’re back with us.”

“I missed you too, Nissy.”

His Captain smiles, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, turning around slightly, returning with a glass of water. “Take a few sips, you must be parched.”

The younger Power nods, leaning forward to take a few sips of the cool water, and when he’s done, he lays back against his mentor’s chest. He feels him lean forward, resting his chin on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around him. “Let’s take a nap.”

He smiles. “With my two papas?”

“With your two papas, little rabbit.”

Rahatiel smiles, pressing in closer, reaching for his Captain’s hand, curling it against his chest. “Yea, I’d like to take a nap.”


	259. The Youngest's Turn (Nisroc, Abraxos, & Galizur)

“So, this is my old Elect that was denied and demoted?” Abraxos leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking down at the young angel laying between him and his older brother, arms stuck above his head, their grace holding him down, topless and barefoot, because you never know where one might go during your initiation. “I don’t remember a whole lot about you, I’m sorry, I just know you were rejected because of your attitude and behavior.”

Nisroc nods lightly. “He is, Galizur, you remember Abraxos, don’t you?”

The youngest Elect licks his lips and nods. “I do. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“Hey, no apologies, though I do accept yours,” the second oldest Power waves his apology away. “From what I’ve been told, you’ve been seeing someone to help yourself, and you’ve changed, for the good, which is more then anyone could ever expect someone to do, it takes more strength to admit you need help then it does to deny it. You may not be my Elect anymore, but I’m proud of you, that you would acknowledge that you needed help to better yourself, and took the step to seek it out, that takes immense strength on your part, and that’s something anyone would _and_ should be proud of.”

Galizur smiles up at him. “Thank you, sir.”

Abraxos smiles down at him, poking him in the belly, smiling at his small bout of giggles from such an action. “Hey, don’t call me that, I’m sure Nis has told you that we don’t like being called that here, not in our home, only on the training field.”

Nisroc nods lightly. “I have been teaching him that, we’re still learning, but he’s starting to get the message.”

“Good.”

“So, Gali,” the Captain looks down at his small Elect and smiles when his attention shifts from the other Power over to him. “It’s time for your initiation.”

Galizur tilts his head. “Initiation?”

“Yes, initiation, everyone who wants to be a part of our family, everyone has to go through initiation.” He rubs his cheek lightly when a small light of fear flashes in his eyes. “It’s not painful, I promise, well, your tummy might start to hurt, but we’ll give you a break when it does.”

“W—What?”

He goes ignored as his mentor looks up to his younger brother, Abraxos tilts his head when their eyes meet, and Nisroc smiles lightly. “Shall we begin young Galizur’s initiation?”

The younger Power nods. “I think we shall.”

“Very good, very good, let’s get this ball rolling.”

Abraxos nods lightly. “You know him best, where should we begin, what’s the worst?”

He looks between them both, not quite understanding, but an inkling of it does come over him, it’s small, but it’s there.

His Captain hums softly. “Toes and armpits are the worst, tummy is a close second, which do you want to start with?”

“Hmm, very good question, maybe we should flip a coin.”

The older Power nods lightly, leaning over to fish into his pocket, pulling out a small quarter from within. “Heads is toes, tails is armpits, call it.”

“Tails.”

He flips the coin, and the watch it twirl through the air as it tosses it up, watching it come back down, landing in his palm, and he flips it up onto the back of his other hand, and raises his hand away to reveal what it landed on. “Tails, it’s time for some armpits.” He tucks the quarter back in his pocket, and boy Powers turn, laying down along his sides, over his armpits, and he looks between the two of them nervously. “G—Guys?”

Nisroc ignores him, turning to look at his younger brother, Abraxos meets his gaze mutely. “Abe, watch this.” The younger Power nods, watching him wiggle a single finger into the young Elects armpit, and smiles, looking up at him when he shrieks, bubbles of giggles exploding from him, and his fingers flex, the only thing he can move, that they’re not holding down with their grace. “Isn’t that adorable?”

The younger Power smiles lightly, nodding in agreement. “That is very adorable. Shall we together?”

“By all means, together.”

They share a nod, and the second oldest Power wiggles a finger in his other armpit, and he shrieks again, bright peals of giggles exploding from him, wiggling his feet around at the tickly feeling. “Someone’s pretty sensitive here.”

“Isn’t he, you know what he can’t stand in his little armpits?”

“What, dear brother?”

Nisroc hums softly. “Berries.”

“Well, then, shall we proceed?”

Galizur shakes his head, he’s not exactly sure what’s going on, but he knows what the reference is for such a question. “Nohohohoo! Nohohohoo! Nohohoot thohohose!”

“Oh, that just makes me want to do it even more.”

“On the count of three?”

They share a nod, counting silently, both take a deep breath, and bury themselves into his armpits, blowing a long hard raspberry into the sensitive spot, and he squeals bright and loud, throwing his head back against the pillow.

“EEEEIEIEIEIAIIAIAEIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAEHEHAHAEAEAAIAIAAIAIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEREEEEIEIEIEIIEAEAHHEEAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHHEEERE EEIEIEIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA PLEHEHEHHEHEHEASE! EEIEIEIIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAAA EEIEIEIEAIAEIAIAIAAIAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEEREEIEIEIIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA! NIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS NIHIHIHIHIHIHIIIS PLEHEHHEHEHEHHEEASE! EEIEIIEAIAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOSE NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEEREEIEIIEAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA AAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA PLEHEHEEHHEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAA! NOHOHOHOT THEEHEHEHEHHEE AHAHAHAHHARMPIIHIHIHHIHIHITS! EIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOREEEEIEIIEAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!”

Both Powers laugh softly as they pull away, at his begging and squeals, and he giggles and pants for a breath, the tingles from the berries on his armpits still there. Abraxos looks over to his brother. “You’re right, he is adorable.”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

He nods lightly. “You sure did, where to now, dearest big brother?”

Nisroc pushes himself back up, crossing his legs before him, hovering over the young Elect’s belly, and his brother follows suit. “Let’s get this tummy.”

Abraxos nods lightly. “What shall we do to this tummy?”

“Not the claws!” They both look down at the young Elects cry and smiles when he shakes his head. “Not those!”

The younger Power hums softly, looking up at his older brother. “I know what I would like to do.”

“Are you going to say you want to invite the claw brothers to this initiation ceremony?”

He nods. “I think we should.”

“Alright, let’s see if they accept their invitation.”

Galizur shrieks with giggles when they both raise their hands, fingers forming claws, and hover over his belly. “I think they’ve accepted their invitation.”

“I think they have too.”

Galizur screams when four hands claw into his belly, twenty fingers, clawing in viciously and deeply, and he _screams_ with laughter.

“EEEIEIEIEIEIIEIEIEIEIIEEEEEEEEIEIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AEEEAEAEAAEEIEIIEIEAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAHAAAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AEEIEIEIIEAIIAEIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NAAHAAHANAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA EIEIEIEIAAIEAIIAEIAIAIAAHAAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHAHHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAWS! EEIEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA ABAAAAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHHEHEE CLAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOHOSE! IHIHIHIHIHHIIT’S NOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHHAHAHAAAAIR IHIHIHIHIHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHHAHAHAHAIR! NOHOHOHHOHOHO EEEIIEIEAIAIIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA AAEEAIIEAIEAIAIAIAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA BBBAAAHAHAHHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAAA STOHOHOHOHHOOHOHOHOOP STOHOHOHOHOOP! EEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES IHHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES! EEIEIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT! IHHIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAN’T TAHAHHAHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHHAWS! EEIEIIEAIIAIAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA THAHAHAHAHAT’S TOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO MAAHAHHAHAHAHAHANY! TOOHHOHOHOHOHOHOOO MAHAHAHHAANY CLAHAHAHAHHAAWS! TOHOHOHO MAHAHHAHAANY! IEEEEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAEAEAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AEEIEIEIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA MYHYHYHYHYY BEHEHEHEHHEELLY! MYHYHYHYHY BEHEHEHHEEELLY HUHUHUHUHURTS! STOHOHOHHOHOOP! PLEHEHEHEHEAEAAAEAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHHHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEEEASE! EEIIEAIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHHOHOHOHOHOHORE CLAHAHAHAHHAHAHAWS! PLEEHEHEEEAIAEIEAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”

They both pull away, Nisroc chuckles at his delirious giggles, patting his tummy lightly. “Catch your breath, we’ll let you have a couple minutes.”

“Nohoho mohhohohore! Plehehehease nohoho mohohohore!”

Abraxos smiles patting his tummy gently. “Sorry, your initiation isn’t complete just yet.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and hums softly. “But, you’re doing great.”

“Pahahassing?”

The Captain nods lightly. “You most certainly _are_ passing.”

Galizur slowly gets himself under control and smiles. “Good.”


	260. The Trouble With Nightmares (Moriah & Zander)

It came in the dark of night, after Moriah got home from his shift, he knew he’d come in to check on him, he felt the dip of the bed as he sat on the edge, the fingers that stroked through his curls, the blanket being pulled up under his chin, the warm lips that pressed to the side of his head. He felt it when he stood, heard him walk softly across his room, as the door creaked softly as it was pulled closed, cracked, not closed completely, and he smiles, nodding down against his pillow, feeling comforted and protected with his guardian home again, not that there was any threat to worry about, the cottage was sealed with Moriah’s grace, the only ones who could get in were him and his guardian and those Moriah granted entry to.

He slept on for a few more hours, dreaming good and happy dreams, until something took a sour note, something dark entered the picture his mind played for him, something devoured it and changed it, twisting it into something horrible, and he flies up, eyes wide, searching the room for the creature that lurked in the shadows, just like it had in his dream, he curled up, clutching his stuffed octopus closer.

_There was something under his bed._

He heard it, there was movement, something was there, waiting for him to go back to sleep so it could strike. His heart raced, his senses focused on the noise he’d heard, the running water of his aquarium faded, muffled, and he whines softly, carefully crawling out from under his blankets, crawling down the length of his bed, until he reaches the end of the bed, and he stops.

What if it’s waiting there, just under the edge, waiting for him to step down so it can grab him and pull him under. Fear creeps up on him, making his eyes water, he wants abba, Mori would protect him, Mori would make it better again, he wants Mori.

Getting his feet under him, he takes a deep breath, waits a tense moment, and jumps forward, stumbling as he lands, running for the door, and throws it open. Moriah’s room is right across the hall, his door is cracked too, in case he calls out for him in the middle of the night.

It’s right behind him, he knows it is, he can _feel_ it, right at his heels.

Pushing his guardian’s bedroom door open, he runs in, jumping up on the bed. Moriah starts, awaking at the impact, yelping at the body that lands on him, the shaking petrified youngling clinging to him as though the foulest of beasts was after him.

“Zan…Zan, what’s wrong?” He wraps his arms around the boy, squeezing him close for a moment, running his fingers through his curls comfortingly. “Zan?”

“Somethings after me, abba!”

The healer frowns softly. “Something’s after you?”

“There’s something under my bed, abba, there’s something there, there’s a monster under there!”

“Something’s under your bed?” He scratches the boy’s head soothingly. “There’s a monster under your bed?”

Zander nods his head quickly, the arms wrapped around him make him feel safe, no silly monster would dare come after him with Mori here to protect him. “Abba, can I sleep with you, I don’t want the monster to get me!”

“Of course, little Zan.” He kisses the top of the boy’s head lightly. “You know you can always sleep with me, whenever you need to,” he uncurls his arms lifting the side of the blankets. “Climb on under so you don’t get cold.”

Zander nods, crawling off of him, up under the blankets, tucking himself back in close once the blankets are curled down around him, and Moriah turns to rest on his side, opening his arms for him to come close again, and he does so happily, pressing into his chest, taking comfort in the arms that wrap around him protectively.

“You sleep here with me and we’ll see what monster would dare come in and scare my little Zan in the morning.”

“Thanks, abba.”

“Always, little one, always.” He presses a kiss to his forehead. “Now, let’s get some sleep, I don’t know about you, but I’m _exhausted_.”

“I’m sleepy too, abba.”

“Well, then, let’s get some sleep.”

Zander ducks in closer. “What if it gets me when I fall asleep?”

“No monster would ever dare try and take you from me.” His guardian kisses his forehead again. “Do you want to now a secret?”

“Yea!”

“Other monsters are scared of me because I’m a big bad monster too.”

The youngling giggles softly. “You’re a big bad _tickle_ monster, why would other monsters be scared of the tickle monster?”

“Darn right, I’m a big bad tickle monster.” Zander giggles softly when fingers wiggle into his sides lightly. “All monsters are scared of the big bad tickle monster because the big bad tickle monster would give that monster an unimaginable tickle torture if they tried to take something the big bad tickle monster loves from them.”

“Really?”

Moriah smiles slightly. “Would I lie about something as important as tickle monsters?” He chuckles softly when he feels the boy shake his head. “Tickle monsters are the most fearsome monsters out there.”

“I’m not scared of the big bad tickle monster.”

“You’re not? Wow, you’re really brave, then.” He presses another kiss to the boy’s forehead. “Now, since the big bad tickle monster is protecting you, let’s get some more sleep, or the big bad _tickle_ monster might come after _you_.”

Zander giggles softly, nodding into his guardian’s chest. “Okay, abba, I love you.”

“I love you too, little Zan.”


	261. In Need Of The Medic (Puriel & Hasmal)

“Mon,” he sits up at the sound of his friends voice, calling softly in the darkened room, and he sits up, standing from his place on the foot of the bed, walking up the length of the bed, licking his friend’s face, Hasmal giggles softly, turning away from him. “I want Puri, will you come with me?”

Hamon nudges him with his snout and huffs, turning to jump off the side of the bed, looking back at his boy as though to say, _‘are you coming?’,_ and Hasmal smiles, sliding out of bed softly, and carefully makes his way across the room, his hound faithfully at his side. He opens the door quietly, as to not disturb his older brother, and they both step out into the hall, he closes the door, and turns to the door across the hall, there’s still movement inside, he hears it, and they step closer. Hamon nudges him when he stares at the door, urging him to knock, and he does. The movement in the room pauses, then it draws nearer, before the door opens.

Puriel stares at him for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, and smiles. “What can I do for you, Maly?”

The firebender rubs at his cheek lightly. “Puri, can I sleep with you?”

His older brother smiles down at him. “Of course, you can, baby dragon.” He steps around, gesturing for him to enter. “Come on in, little guy.” Hasmal smiles, stepping into the medic’s room, Hamon right behind him. “Climb in bed, and I’ll be right there.”

He nods, climbing up into his older brother’s bed, Hamon hopping up after him, and he curls up under his brother’s blanket, watching his as he moved around and completed his chores. Then, he turns to him, tilting his head as he smiles down at him, and makes his way to his side, sliding into bed next to him.

“Come here, baby dragon,” he opens his arms and the younger angel slides closer, into his arms, and tucks himself into his chest. “What brings you to me?”

Hasmal sighs as he cuddles in closer. “I just wanted to be with you.”

“Everything’s, alright?”

“Everything’s okay, big brother.” He closes his eyes. “I just wanted you.”

“Well, you’ve got me, baby dragon.” He presses a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Okay, Puri.”


	262. The Traitor's Return (Thaddeus, Sabaoth, & Ion)

They all look down at the door at the end of the hall as another scream rings out from behind the thick metal door. “So, _he’s_ back.”

A prisoner three cells down raises their arm through the bars of their cell. “I understand why he took Theo back, after the declaration Thaddy made the other day, we can’t necessarily blame him, but why did he agree to take _him_ back?”

“Wasn’t he the one who really betrayed, Thaddy?” Someone calls down from a tad further down the hall. “I mean, he was the guard he took with him for protection, wasn’t he?”

“I think so….Yea, yea, he was, I remember now. He definitely was.”

Another scream echoes down the hall.

A prisoner two cells down, on the left, raises their hand. “Thaddy remembers that too, did you _see_ his face, it was the _same_ face he made when they brought Theo back.”

“Ion’s in for a rough ride then.”

“Guys, he called _Sabaoth_ in with him too.” Another calls out and is quickly hushed by another scream echoing down the hall. “Like, I get why, but I feel like that’s a bit on the cruel side.”

“As someone who’s had a few sessions with Saba,” someone raises their hand. “I can attest to the truth in the statement that Saba _is_ just as bad as Thaddy.”

“Is he really?” Another calls out two cells down. “Because, I have a session with him tomorrow and I need to know how bad he really is?”

“Friend, he’s _bad_.”

Another scream.

“Great, thanks, good to know.”

And another.

Someone calls out from down the hall. “Wasn’t Theo and Ion in cahoots though, like didn’t they both know what Naomi was going to do?”

“I don’t think Theo knew _exactly_ what she was going to do.”

The same person responds. “But, Ion had to, I’m mean, wasn’t he the one who told Thaddy that Naomi wanted to see him?”

“No, it was Theo who told Thaddy she wanted to see him, Ion just offered to go with him as his escort.” Someone calls out from the other end of the hall. “Him and Theo were always close, Ion was Theo’s Saba, if you know what I mean, so maybe Ion knew why Theo was taking Thaddy to see her and followed along because Theo was going.”

“If that’s true, did Ion know about what was happening to Theo?”

Another screams rings from behind the door at the end of the hall.

“Well,” someone calls out. “If Ion was Theo’s Saba, then he probably did, Naomi only told Theo she could make the foul treatment stop if he brought Thaddy to her, maybe that’s what Ion thought too, and that’s why he volunteered to be the escort, to make sure Thaddy got there like he was supposed to.”

“Now, that’s something to ponder.”

“But, if that’s true, why’d Thaddy take him to the chamber and take Saba in with him?”

Another scream rings out. “Well, technically speaking, Ion _did_ still betray Thaddy, and, seeing as Saba was in charge of the guards at the time, under Thaddy’s command obviously, he technically betrayed him too.”

“Oof.”

…

Theo smiles as his best friend screams again, as he squeals loudly, he liked it, his friend needed to laugh and squeal and everything, Ion had always been so _mad_. Of course, Ion had known about the prisoners treating him badly, and he too had thought Thaddy had known and was simply allowing it to happen, so he supposes he’d had a right to be mad.

Ion squeals loudly, kicking his legs as best as he can, twisting his feet as much as he can with the two Warden’s holding them steady, scrubbing viciously at his soles.

Thaddeus smiles, laughing softly when the guard who’d betrayed him and Sabaoth screams for someone to help him, and he pulls his toes back, giving them a good scrubbing too, and his old guard squeals again, wiggling his toes as best as he can. “No one’s coming to help you, Ion, you better get comfortable, we cleared our schedule for the entire evening, and we’ve got a long way to go.”

Sabaoth nods in agreement, chuckling softly when his old guard squeals again, pulling his foot own to scrub at the top, they’d found it was just as bad there as it was on the sole, and Ion screams with laughter, tugging on his foot as much as he could. “This is what traitors like you get.”

They give him a moment of reprieve as they dip their scrub brushes in the bucket between them, Ion pants, giggling under his breath. “Plehehehehease! Plehehehehease, nohohoho mohohohore! Eeieieaaaahahahahhahahahahhahaaa Ihihihi’m sohohohorry! Ihihihi’m sohohoho sohohohorry! Nohohoho mohohohore! Nohohoho mohohohore!”

The both of them chuckle softly, pressing their brushes back to the ex-guard’s soles, and Ion shrieks, they’re just resting there, and he shrieks, it makes them both chuckle again. “We accept your apology, but we’re not done yet.” And, begin scrubbing anew, Ion screams, squealing loudly, kicking anew, feet twisting again.

“Saba,” Thaddeus looks up at his Co-Warden, voice raised over the squealing laughter of their ex-guard. “I think his feet are even more ticklish then Theo’s are.”

“I think I agree.” Sabaoth pulls his toes back to scrub them, smiling as they wiggle in his grip as he does, and at the squeal that rings around the room. “I’ve played with Theo’s feet a number of times, but this reaction isn’t like the one he gives, it’s so much different.”

The Warden nods to the bucket. “Take another brush, I’ll stay down here with his feet, you go scrub those armpits.”

The Co-Warden nods lightly. “Aye-Aye, sir.” Sabaoth reaches into the bucket for another brush, Thaddeus follows his lead, and the younger Warden crosses around the length of the table, up above their victims head, Thaddeus presses both of his brushes over their victim’s soles and Sabaoth presses his brushes over his armpits. “Together?”

He nods. “Together.”

Ion screeches when they begin scrubbing again, bouncing in place, his fingers flexing and his toes wiggling, throwing his head from side to side as he cackles loud high pitched cackles. “NOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHO MEHEHEHHEHEHERCY! MEHEHEHEHERCY! AAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHHAHAEHEHAEEIEIIEIEAIIAEIAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AEEEEEIEIEAIAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAAAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHIHI CAAHAHAHAHHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHHAHAAN’T TAHAHHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIT! EIEIEIEEAAAAIAAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHO SOHOHOHOHOORRY! SOHOHOHOHO SOHOHOHOO SOHOHOHOORRY! EEIEIAIIAEIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA THAAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAADDYYYY SSAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAABABAAAAABBAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOOHHOHOHOHORE! IHIHHIHIHIHIIT’S SOHOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHHAHAAD! IHIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES SOOHOHOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHHAHAHAAD! EIEIEIEAAEIAEIAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA IHHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIT!”

Thaddeus drops his scrub brushes back in the bucket. “Okay, Saba, let’s see if he has that really bad spot we’ve been finding on almost everyone else.” He crosses up the right side of the table, the Co-Warden crosses down the left, both of them coming to stand at his waist. “Ready?”

Sabaoth nods lightly. “Ready.”

They both reach under him, Theo giggles softly into his hand when his friend’s eyes widen in surprise, and Ion screeches again when a finger wiggles in the inner undercurve of both cheeks, throwing himself around as he tries to get away from those wiggling fingers, lifting himself off the table and clenching, the fingers don’t follow, it doesn’t stop is high pitched shrieky cackles, then his muscles give out, and he falls back down to those wiggling fingers, and screeches again.

“This is nice, this is really nice.” Thaddeus smiles, watching his ex-guard bounce around, sharing a nod with his Co-Warden, they both curl their free hands around his upper thigh, and hold him down. Ion screeches again, wiggling from side to side, unable to lift away from those two wiggling fingers, and not for lack of trying, he drills his heels in the table and tries to push himself up despite their restraint. “Ion, you better sit still, or I’ll make this so much worse.”

Ion only cackles, throwing his head from side to side, and continues to wiggle and push against them.

The Warden nods at his Co-Warden, and Sabaoth returns his nod in kind, they pull his legs apart slightly, reaching in, and dig their fingers in the inner crease of his upper thigh. Ion screeches again, trying to pull his legs closed again, throwing himself around, bouncing in place, cackling loud high pitched cackles.

“EEEEEEEIEIEAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOO! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE NOOHOHOHOHOHOOHOT THEHEHEHHEHEHERE! EEIEIAIEAIAIAIAIAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAA AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA GEHEHEHEHHEET OHOHHOHOHOHOUT GEHEHEEHEHHEHET OHHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOUT! EEIEEEEEEEEIEIEAIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHHAHHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHHEHEHEEASE PLEEHEHEHEEIEIEIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAA IHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHORRY IHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOHORRYYYYYYEYEAYAAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA GEHEHEHEHHET OHOHOHOHOHOHOUT GEHEHEHEHEHEET THEHEHEHEHHEEM OHOHOHOHOHOHOUT! EEIEIEIEIEIEEEEIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA EEEEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHEEAAAAEAEAEAEAEAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHHAHAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIT AHAHAHHAHANYMOHOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAHHAAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIT! THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAADDYYYYEYEYYEYYEYEAYYAAAAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA THAHAHAHAHHAHADDYYY IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOORRY! IHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOO SOHOHOHORRYYYYYY! NOHOHHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT! EEEIIEIEIAIAEIAAAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Did you hear that Thaddy, he says he can’t take it anymore.” Sabaoth tugs his leg out further and spiders his fingers up and down his inner thigh, Ion screams, his leg jerking in his grip. “I think we’re going to break him.”

“I _want_ to break him.” Thaddeus follows his lead, tugging their victims leg out just a tad further and spiders his fingers up and down his inner thigh too. “Just like he broke me.”

Theo feels as though he should come to his best friends defense and aide, but then there’s the possibility Thaddy will decide he needs to be punished for interrupting his revenge, and he’ll scrub his feet for an hour, _again_ , he nearly died the first time, and that had only been one foot, he’d said if he had to do it again, he’d get both feet.

So he decides to leave it alone.

Self-preservation at its finest.

“Let’s move on to his belly, he’s got a bit of a chub there, and I love me some chubby bellies.” His Co-Warden nods, following him when he steps over, following his lead when he claws his fingers into their victims belly, and Ion squeals again, arching his back, throwing his head from side to side. “I want to break him.”

…

“Sooo….It’s been like, thirty minutes, and the screams haven’t stopped.”

A prisoner closer to the door calls out. “You know, despite what he did, with the suspicions we have, I almost feel bad for him.”

“Thaddy’s going to break him.” Someone calls out three cells down as another screech echoes down the hall. “He’s going to break him.”

“Poor Ion.”

…

Ion just lays there limply, his head thrown back, cackling and squealing, tears streaming down his face, as both Wardens blow berry after berry into his belly, in perfect unison, reaching down with one hand to wiggle a finger in that really bad spot, and the other reaching up to flutter their fingers over his armpits.

It takes only a few moments until his cackles fall silent, coming out as small intermittent squeaks, tears soaking his cheeks.

Sabaoth pulls away first. “I think we broke him, Thaddy.”

Then, the Warden pulls away too, examining the panting crying mess they’ve created. “I think we did. Good. That’s what I wanted. Unstrap his ankles. I’ll get his wrists.” They cross around to their side of the table, unstrapping him gently, Thaddeus leans over his head to set his limp arms down along his sides, and grunts softly as he lifts him up under his arms, curling his fingers around his middle to pull him closer, resting him back against his chest, letting the young ex-guard pant against him, trying to catch his breath, and leans over his shoulder slightly to wipe his cheeks clean, looking up when Sabaoth comes to rest at his side.

“Now what?”

“Now, I’m going to put him down for a nap on the cot in my office, and we’ll talk when he wakes up.” He carefully turns the limp ex-guard around, lifting him up into his arms gently, and turns away from the table, nodding at Theo to follow him. “I want to know why he did what he did.”


	263. Guilty Until Proven Innocent (Zaveriel, Raphael, The Virtues, & Nisroc)

“But I _didn’t_ do it!” The youngest Virtue throws his arms up at the third request for him to admit his wrongdoing. “I’m all for the practical joke every now, but I know not to touch your bow, and I would never do that to Zed’s workbench!” He turns to his older brothers, crowded around behind him, Zed glares at him angrily, so he moves on to the others. “You guys believe me, right!”

The others look away, but Oren nods firmly, his arms crossed over his chest tightly. “I believe you, Zavey, guys I know it looks suspicious, he was the last one people saw before these things were discovered, but I know Zaves wouldn’t do this. He can be a brat, sure, but he’d never take things that far.”

Raphael rubs a hand over his face. “Oren, he’s your baby brother, I know you’d always defend him, no matter him innocent or guilty, but all of the evidence points to him. We have witnesses who saw him coming out of my office before I discovered my bow broken and witnesses who saw him leaving Zed’s work area before he discovered his workbench absolutely destroyed.”

“But, Raph, you know he wouldn’t—”

“But, he did, Oren, you can’t say the evidence isn’t compelling.”

His Captain shakes his head firmly. “Coincidental. That’s all it is.”

“Zaveriel, I’ll give you one more chance, just admit your wrongdoing, and it’ll be easier.” The Archangel turns his attention to his youngest Virtue. “If you admit to it, your punishment will be less severe.”

“ _No_.” The youngling shakes his head heatedly. “I’m _not_ going to take the _fall_ for something I _didn’t_ do.”

They stare at each other for a tense moment and the Healer sighs. “Zed, get the belt.”

Zaveriel’s eyes widen, turning his head, watching his older brother step forward, uncrossing his arms to pull the closet door open, to retrieve the belt he was sent for, and he glares down at him as he crosses over to the Archangel’s desk to deliver it to him. “Thank you, Zed, you can deal with your end of this now, or later, it’s up to you.”

Zed glares down at his youngest brother. “I’ll go get my spoon.”

The youngest Virtue turns his attention to his Archangel as his older brother leaves to retrieve the dreaded spoon, leaning forward in his chair, glaring at him with as much heat as he can muster. “You’re going to _regret_ this. I’ll _never_ forgive you.” He turns, flitting around, glaring at the rest of his brothers. “ _Or_ you.”

Zed returns shortly after, his wooden spoon in hand, and despite his best efforts, he gulps.

Raphael pushes his chair back and rises. “Bare yourself, Zaveriel, and over the edge of the desk.”

“But, Raph, I _swear_ I didn’t do it!”

The Archangel points to his desk. “ _Now,_ Zaveriel.”

He whines softly, at the thought of getting the belt _and_ the spoon, but he holds back his tears, he refuses to let them fall, as he stands from his chair, slowly, jerkily, unbuckling his belt, and pulling his trousers and undergarment down slightly, bending over the edge of the desk as he was told to. He bites his lip, hard, when the belt touches to his bare skin and pulls back again, he jumps forward, but bites his lip harder to keep from crying out, when the belt strikes down. He takes it, breathing heavily, biting his lip so hard he starts to taste coppery blood, but refuses to cry out, to let a single tear fall, not when the lashing with the belt comes to an end and Zed takes his Archangel’s place, and the Healer returns to his chair behind his desk. He stands there, breathing heavily as the wooden spoon smacks down against his burning bottom, glaring at the Archangel the whole time, his fingers curled into tight fists, he won’t break down into sobs, no matter how much he wants to, he won’t beg his older brother to stop, exclaim about how sorry he was.

Because, he has nothing to be sorry for, he _didn’t_ do it.

And, he won’t give him the _satisfaction_.

The lashing with the spoon comes to an end, and he tugs his trousers up stiffly, his hands shaking slightly as he buttons them once more and buckles the belt back into place, before turning his attention back to his Archangel. “Am I done?”

Raphael stares at him for a long moment before nodding mutely, watching the youngling turn, spinning on his heel.

Zed reaches for him, his spoon in his pocket. “Zavey, come here, little one.” And, just like that, he’s forgiven, he’s forgiven for something he hadn’t even done.

He shoves him back, glaring at him heatedly. “Don’t you _ever_ call me that. Only my brothers get to call me that. And, you, _you_ are _not_ my brother.” He looks around to the rest of them. “Only _Oren_ gets to call me that.” He shoves through his brothers, making his leave, and turns the corner, he’s heading for the Loft, for his room, where he’s going to lock himself in.

The apothecary stares at the doorway for a long moment before turning back to his Archangel.

Raphael shakes his head. “Let him go, he’ll come around once he’s calmed down, he’s just upset with us.”

“Was I too harsh?” Zed’s concerned, saddened that his youngest brother wouldn’t let him hold him, and slouches forward. “Was I too rough?”

Oren nods firmly, but the others shake their heads, Zaveriel had to know that the consequences for his actions would catch up with him.

They look around when someone knocks on the door of the Archangel’s office, and Raphael leans over to see who it is, his Virtues stepping aside for him. “Arlo, little one, you can come in.” The young healer steps in cautiously, looking at them all nervously, his hands clasped together tightly in front of him. “What can I do for you, little one?”

Arlo licks his lips nervously, turning his attention to his Archangel, shuffling on his feet slightly. “Papa, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I was scared you’d be mad at me and I’d be in trouble, I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

The Healer frowns lightly. “Tell me what, little one?” His young healer crosses his arms tightly, he’s nervous about something, and he wants to get to the bottom of it, so he can help him feel better. “What’s happened?”

Arlo takes a deep breath. “I accidently broke your bow.”

A sense of dread fills the atmosphere in the Archangel’s office. “ _You_ broke my bow?”

He nods quickly. “I came in to get the charts you asked me to get, but they were up really high, so I used your chair to try and reach them, but the chair moved and I fell, and when I landed, I landed on your bow, I didn’t mean to break it, I swear, it was just an accident.” They stare at him and he shuffles nervously. “I’m sorry, papa, am I in trouble?”

“No, no,” Raphael waves his inquiry away, looking down at his desk, there had been a grave error in judgement made just minutes ago. “You’re not in trouble, it was an honest accident.”

Arlo bites his lip. “There’s more, papa.”

He inhales deeply and looks back up to the boy. “More?”

His small healer nods, turning to his apothecary, and Zed stares down at him, slowly reaching up to press a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, I ruined your workstation, I came to get some pain relief for someone, but it was on the high shelf, so I tried to climb up to reach it, and I slipped, I tried to catch myself but accidently knocked everything around. I’m really sorry.”

The Virtue stares at him for a long moment before nodding, something in his shatters, he should have _known_ that his baby brother _wouldn’t_ have done it, Zaveriel was known to do many things, but purposefully destroying his workbench was never one of them. He’d been furious, and when he’d been told that Zaveriel was the last one people saw at his workstation before he found it destroyed, he’d automatically placed blame on him, despite the knowledge he had that stood for the opposite. “It’s alright, Arlo, thank you for telling me.”

Arlo nods slightly, turning back to look at his Archangel, watching him stare down at the water globe on his desk. “Did you like your gift, papa?”

The Healer lifts his eyes to him. “My gift?”

“Mhm,” he leans forward, touching a finger to the top of the water globe, tapping it lightly. “This. Zaves made it for you with Joshua. He said he was going to leave it on your desk to see if you noticed it wasn’t there before.”

He looks down at the water globe under the young healers finger.

He’s made a _grave_ error in judgement.

Arlo turns to look up at the apothecary at his side. “He made one for you too, it had a water lily in it, because that’s your favorite flower.” Zed doesn’t say anything, he just stares down at him, his hand curled around his mouth, and he turns back to his Archangel. “Can I go back, papa?”

Raphael nods, staring down at the water globe, with a bold red rose inside. “Yes, little one, you can return to your duties.”

Arlo nods, turning to make his leave, a heavy pressure lifted off his shoulders.

Oren hums deeply. “Well, I do hope we’ve all learned something here today. One, it’s not innocent until proven guilty, it appears to be the exact opposite. And, two, the one you just punished for something he was _adamant_ he hadn’t done, is not the forgiving type, and can hold a grudge longer then even Lucifer, which is quite impressive, so, I wish you luck in fixing this grave error you’ve just made.”

…

“It’s no use, Zed,” Constantine calls out when the apothecary crests the top of the stairs, crossing through the lounge and kitchen for the hall, he knows where he’s headed, he knows it’s locked, and Ephraim had knocked on the door for nearly ten minutes calling out to the one within, and retreated to his own room when he gained no response. “The door’s locked, he let Oren in, but locked the door again behind him.”

Zed sighs deeply, dropping into a chair at the table, rubbing at his face with his hands. “Costa, I really messed up.”

“We _all_ messed up, well, except Oren.”

The older Virtue lowers his hands. “How do we fix this, Costa?”

Constantine looks up at him. “Oren’s right, Zaves isn’t the forgiving type, I don’t know if we can.”

…

Nisroc looks up at the knock on his office door, lowering his pen as he calls out for them to enter, and his eyes widen in surprise when he sees who it is that enters.

“Zavey?”

The once messenger now Virtue spares him a smile as he closes the door behind him, flopping down into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Hey, Nis.”

The Power and Commander of Heaven’s armies appraises him lightly, not that it wasn’t unusual for Zaveriel to come see him, this was out of the blue, and it had been a long while since they’d gotten together. “What can I do for you, Zavey?”

The younger angel leans forward. “I want to be one of Puriel’s medics.”

_You’re going to **regret** this. I’ll **never** forgive you._


	264. New Flock, New Title (Zaveriel)

To say Nisroc is surprised would be an understatement, and he stares at the younger angel for a long time, Zaveriel stares back mutely, waiting for his words to catch up with his mind, and when it does, he shakes his head. “You _want_ to be one of Puri’s medics?” He sets his pen down to give the smaller angel his undivided attention, him and Zaveriel went way back, he knew he had a habit of jumping flocks, none of the Archangels bat an eye at it, they’re used to it, everyone is used to it, he belongs everywhere, he’s been in all four flocks at some point in his life, their relationship was a close one, not as close as it had been before the war, but still very close. “But, Zaves, you _love_ being a Virtue. You _love_ working with Raph again.”

“Yea, well,” the smaller angel sits back in his chair. “Things didn’t work out, so I’m looking for some new digs, if you catch my drift. I was a messenger, so I’m quick and swift, I grew up as a healer, so I know how to tend to people. Not to blow my own horn, but I think I’d make a great medic for Puri, he doesn’t have to waste time training me, I was trained by the Healer himself.”

Nisroc leans forward over his desk, resting on his elbows. “Things didn’t work out?” He tilts his head slightly. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter what happened.” Zaveriel waves his hand, something dark crosses his features, but disappears as soon as it’s there. “That’s need to know information only. You don’t need to know that to make your decision in allowing me to join your flock or not.”

The Commander stares at him critically for a moment, but he inevitably nods in defeat, he wasn’t going to get it out of him, and he was right, he didn’t need to know what happened that made him want to change flocks. “I accept your request, you can move in to the room next to Puriel’s, you’ve had experience as a Captain before, so you’ll be the captain of his medic’s, you’re welcome to move in at any time.” Zaveriel nods, thanking him softly, and rises from his seat, turning towards the door. “Zaves?” He turns to look at his new Commander from over his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

The new captain nods sharply. “Yea.” He contemplates a moment. “You know what the difference between Gabriel and Raphael is?”

Nisroc feels a sense of dread fill him at that precarious question and responds cautiously. “No..?”

Zaveriel nods firmly. “I knew Gabriel would betray me, but never suspected Raphael to do so too, I guess my lucks just that bad. Third times the charm.”

Nisroc watches him turn to make his leave and calls out. “You know I have to get some forms signed before you can actually begin active duty, right?”

“I do,” the new medic pauses in front of the door. “Can you pass along a message for me?”

The Commander of the Warriors nods. “Of course, anything.”

Zaveriel nods again, staring at the door, his fingers curled around the door handle. “Tell them that I disown them. Except Oren. He’s still my family.” Silently, he twists the door handle, steps out, and closes the door behind him as he makes his leave. Nisroc stares at the door, where he’d just been moments ago, he’s not sure what to do in this situation.

…

He feels as though he’s interrupting something when he knocks on the Archangel’s office door and the voices inside fall silent before someone calls out for him to enter, he smiles slightly, as he steps inside, they stare at him in surprise at his appearance, not that the Captain was a rarity around the Infirmary, but to see him now, filled them all with a sense of dread.

Raphael stares up at him for a moment. “Yes, Nisroc, what can we do for you?”

The Power nods, stepping forward, holding out the forms he needs signed. “I need you to sign off for my new medic’s allowance for active duty.”

The Healer takes the forms from him, and skims over the first page. “Have I seen them yet?”

Nisroc bites his lip. “You have, yes.”

“Who…” The Archangel falls silent as he flips the page and sees the name on the line, staring at it for a long moment, the Virtues behind him shuffle slightly at the inquiry as to what had caused their Archangel to cut himself off, watching warily as he looks up to the Power. “He really wants to?”

He nods lightly. “He was adamant, I’m sorry, but I accepted his request, I didn’t have a reason not to.”

“No, no. You didn’t.” Raphael looks back down at the page, a sense of loss filling him, and he knows it belongs there, he was the one that brought this on himself. “Of course, I’ll sign, I’ve definitely seen him already.” Slowly, he reaches for a pen on his desk, stares down at the page for another long moment, the request to change flocks and begin on active duty, his metaphorical resignation, and signs his name on the line at the bottom of the page, before holding it up for the Captain to take. “Is he going to come for his things?”

Nisroc shakes his head sadly, this is breaking the Healer’s heart, he can hear it in his voice. “He does not want to come back, Titus is sending two guards to collect his things, he’ll be out by sunset.” He doesn’t know if he should say anything. “Raph, I don’t know what happened between you and him, and it’s not my place to pry, but you should know, he said a very curious thing earlier this morning.”

The Archangel loathe to ask but wants to know. “What did he say?”

He takes a deep breath. “That the difference between you and Gabriel is that he expected Gabriel to betray him, but he’d never expected you to do so too.” The elder inhales deeply. “And, he did want me to pass along a message to you all.” He turns to look at them all, his eyes coming to focus on Oren, and the oldest Virtue closes his eyes and bows his head, as though he knows what his message is. “Except for Oren, he’s disowned you.”

One could hear a pin drop in the silence that fills the office space.

The gravity at exactly just how much they’d screwed up weighs down on them in the silence that falls over the room.

“I renounce my position.” All eyes turn to the oldest Virtue, Oren stares only at the Power, nodding firmly. “I request to join your flock.”


	265. The Second Cutest Guard (Thaddeus & Peliel)

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” He giggles at the playful pokes to his belly. “If it isn’t my second cutest guard, Sora’s adorable, but this tummy, this is the cutest tummy I’ve ever met, and trust me when I say, I’ve met a _number_ of tummies in my lifetime.”

“Thahahahaddy!”

The poking comes to a pause and the older angel leans in closer. “Yes, Peli, how can I be of assistance?”

“Nohohoho!”

“No?” He circles a finger around the young guards belly button, and Peliel giggles harder, trying to suck in his chubby belly. “Then, why’d you call my name if I can’t be of assistance?” He dips a finger into the little guards belly button, and Peliel shrieks softly, arching his back as he wiggles his finger. “I was in the middle of something.”

“Tihihihickles!”

“Oh, it _tickles_?” He chuckles softly. “This isn’t _anything_ compared to what I have in store for you.” Thaddeus smiles, wiggling a finger just to the left of the younger angel’s belly button, and he shrieks with giggles. “I’ve heard very good things about this tummy, Tus was very informative, he told me just how _sensitive_ it truly is.”

“Thahahaaddyy nohhoho!”

He smiles lightly. “You would deny me this tummy?” He pokes two fingers over the right side of the guards belly. “You would take that from me?” Peliel nods fervently and he chuckles softly. “You would, would you, well, I was going to go easy on you, but you’ve changed my mind, by admitting you’d keep this tummy from me, now, now your getting some bad tummy torture.”

“Thahahhaaaddy nohhohohoho! Nohohot tuhuhummy tohohorture!”

“ _Bad_ tummy torture. Don’t forget that part. _Bad_.” Peliel squirms around, trying to get away from those poking fingers, but no matter which way he goes, they always seem to follow. “I see you trying to get away, it’s not so easy I’m afraid, you’re going nowhere.”

“Thahahahhaaddy! Nohhohoho tuhuhummy tohohohorture!”

Thaddeus chuckles softly, holding his hands above the young guards belly, wiggling his fingers slightly, his hands shaped into the form of claws. “It’s coming.” Peliel giggles harder and shakes his head. “Oh, it’s coming, it’s coming to get some chubby Peli belly.” The small guard shrieks with giggles when he dips his hands, making as though he’s going to make his attack, and he smiles at the sound. “It’s coming soon.” He lowers his hands slowly. “It’s almost there.” Peliel shakes his head again, biting his lip to try and stave off his giggles, and shrieks when his hands dip again. “Are you ready for it?”

“Thaaahahahahhaaddyyy nohohohohoo! Nohohohho!”

He chuckles again, the tips of his fingers brush over the guards skin lightly, just barely touching, and Peliel squeals softly. “It’s not even there yet and you’re already losing it.” He pauses, his wiggling fingers come to a stop, and they stare at each other. “I guess that means it’s time for it to arrive.” He claws his fingers in and Peliel squeals loudly, kicking his feet wildly, shaking his head frantically from side to side, arching his back sharply. “There we go, that’s good, this is adorable, Tus was right, your belly is adorable.”

“EIEIEAIIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THAHAHAHAHHAHAHAADDYYY NOHOHOHOHHOOHO AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAA PLEHEHEHEEHEHEEASE! EEIEIEAIIAEAIAAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE AAHAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHHAHHAHAHEEEAEIIEIEIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THAHAHAHAHHAADDYYY PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE TUUHUHUHUHUUMMY! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE TUHUHUUMMY! EEEEIEIAIAIAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHA THAHAHAHHAADDYYY NOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAHAWS! EIEIEAIIAIAAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! THAHAHAHAHAAHDDDYYY NOHOHOHOHOHOHOO NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHHAAHHAAHHAHAHAAWS! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! THAHAHAHAHAHAADDY NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEEEASE!”

“No more?” He pauses his attack, his young guard pants, giggling furiously. “But we’re just getting started.”

“Mehehehhercy! Meheheheercy! Plehehehease!”

Thaddeus smiles down at him. “You want me to have mercy on you?”

Peliel nods fervently. “Plehehease!”

The Warden hums softly. “Offer me something and I’ll see if it’s enough to have mercy on you.”

His young guard giggles softly. “A whole plate of double chocolate chip cookies.”

“A _whole_ plate?”

“Every single one.”

Thaddeus smiles, making a show of contemplating his offer, tapping a finger to his chin. “A whole plate all to myself, huh, a very tempting offer, very tempting indeed.” He looks down at the guard skeptically. “And, I don’t have to share _any_ of them?”

Peliel shakes his head. “All yours. No sharing.”

The Warden smiles, nodding slightly. “That is a temping offer.” He makes a face. “Of course, I could always ask Puri to make me a plate, I know he would if I asked.”

“His aren’t as good as mine!”

“Oh, ho, ho, they’re _not_ as good as _yours_?”

Peliel shakes his head frantically, as though his life depended on it, and knowing his superior’s questionable mercy, it most certainly did. “Nope! They’re not!”

“But, didn’t _he_ teach you everything you know?”

He bites his lip. He doesn’t know what to say to that.

Thaddeus chuckles softly. “What, nothing to say to that?” Peliel whines softly, but shakes his head in defeat. “Well, then, I guess it’s time for more claws.”

“NO! WAIT! EEIEIEAIAIAIAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOO THAHAHAHHAADDYYYY EIEIEAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAAAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! NOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHHAHAHAHAWS! EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAWS! AAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHEHEEIEIEIIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOT MOHOHOHOHORE CLAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAWS! EEIEIAIIAIAAAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAA EIEIEIAIAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAHAHAHAHAHAAHHHAHAHAHAAHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAWS NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHAHAWS! EIEAIIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! MEHEHEHEHEHHEERCY! IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIT! IHIHHHIHIHIIHI CAHHAHAHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIIT!”

The Warden chuckles softly. “Do you want me to stop?”

“YEHEHEHEHHEHES! YEHEHEHEHEHHEHES! EIEIEIEAIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAWS! THEEHEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAHAHAWS TIHIHIHHIHHICKLE BAHAHAHAHAHAAD NOHOHOHOHOT THHOHOHOHOHOSE EIEIEIAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA EIEIEIAIAIAHAAHAHHAHAAHAHHEHHEHEEHAEHHAEHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHA!”

“I’ll stop if you tell me you have a tickle chubby tummy.”

Peliel nods feverishly, cackling and squealing at the assaulting claws. “IHIHIHIHIHIHII EIEIEIAIIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHIHI HAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAVEEIEIEIAIAIAAHHAAHAHHAHAAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHI HAHAHHAHHAAVE AHAHAHHAHAAA TIHIHIHIEIAIEAIAIAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHI HAHAHAHHAHAAVE AHAHAHHAHAHAH TIIHIHIHIHIHICKLISH CHUHUHUUUHUBBBYYY TUHUHUHUUHUMMYYY! IHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAAID IHIHIHIHIT IHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAID IHHIHIHHIHIHIHIHIT! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHO MOHHOHOOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHII SAHAHAHAHAHAID IHIHIHIHIHIT!”

Thaddeus chuckles softly, but stops, he’s an angel of his word. “Yes, you did.” He crosses down to his feet, undoing the straps, and up above his head, undoing the straps there. “Now, I’m going to take you to my office, and you’re going to take a nice nap on the cot.”


	266. The Baby Power's Initiation (Nisroc, Puriel, & Sablo)

Sablo looks between the two of them cautiously, but ultimately settles on Puriel, he’s the worst tickle monster out of the two of them, Rahatiel had told him about their _‘initiation’_ and to watch out if Nisroc and another soul came after him, he’d avoided it as much as he could, but alas, he still found himself caught between the two of them, topless, arms held above his head by their grace, legs secured by their grace, at their complete questionable mercy.

Puriel smiles at him, it’s a playful smile, but also a tickle monster smile, this is the one time he doesn’t have to go easy on him, where Nisroc won’t stop him, where Nisroc isn’t on his side, but the medic’s. “Guess what time it is?”

“Umm….I don’t want to, because if I say it, you’re going to attack.”

The medic chuckles softly. “I’ll go easy on you if you say it.”

“Liar! You will not! You’re trying to trick me into saying it!”

“Fine, if you won’t say, I won’t go easy on you, and I’ll say it.” The older Power smiles at him deviously. “It’s tickle torture time!”

Sablo squeals brightly when fingers claw into the side of his belly, wiggling and vibrating around and around, and he rocks from side to side, trying to roll away, despite knowing it was futile with them holding him down so securely. He squeals again when one of the hands moves, and a finger wiggles into his armpit, throwing his head back against the pillow, bouncing under him and his tortures.

Nisroc smiles down at the mess his younger brother has made, with little to no exertion, and shakes his head. “You weren’t kidding when you said he was on the sensitive side, you’re barely doing anything, and he’s already losing it.”

Puriel smiles up at him. “I _told_ you. I’ve done _plenty_ of research for this one.”

“PUHUHUHUHUHUURRIIHIHIHIHIHIHI STOHOHOHOHOP! AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAH AEAEEIEIIEIEAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIT STOHHOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIHIT! EEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAANANAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA BAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAA STOHHOHHOHOHOHOP! STOHOHOHOOHOP! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES! EEIEIAIEIAAIAAAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAH AEEEAEAEEEEEHHEHAHEAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA! GEHEHEHHEET OHOHOHOHOFF! GEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHOHOFF! STOHOHOHHOHOHHOP IHIHIHIHIHIT EEHEHEHAHEAHEAHAAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA PUHUHUHUHURI STOOHOHOHOHOOHOP IHIHIHIHIHIT!”

The medic pulls away, and the young baby Power sighs a giggly sigh of relief, short lived, as the older Power turns to the oldest. “You think that was nice, why don’t you try some button berries.”

“Button berries, huh?” Nisroc hums, and nods, looking down at their baby Power. He takes a deep breath, puffing his cheeks up.

Sablo shrieks at what’s about to come, shaking his head frantically, button berries are the worst, he hates button berries, hates them, because they’re just so bad, and he tugs at his arms as much as he can. “No! No, no, no! No button berries! Not those! Stay away!” He sucks in his belly, no easy task with the giggles bubbling inside, his belly shakes as the giggles start to break free. He shrieks, bouncing under him, as his Captain’s head slowly lowers, and his giggling picks up in quantity. “No! NO! Not those! Not those! Stay away! Stay away! Not button berries! No button berries!”

The oldest Power surges down, burying his face into his belly, over his belly button, Sablo shrieks with laughter as he sits there, tensing in anticipation, he knows what’s about to come, he knows how bad it’s going to be, button berries are the worst. He blows softly over his belly button and in return he squeals softly. “Aahahhahahahahahahaaa!” Then he pauses, the laughter dies down into rapid paced giggles, a small precursor for what’s about to come, and then he lets the berry go, full force, a vicious raspberry over his belly button, and this time he squeals loudly. “EEEIEIIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA!” Pulling at his arms as much as he possibly can, shaking his head, when he takes another big breath, berries over his belly button are the worst, they tickle like nothing else. “NOOOOEEEIEIEIAAEIIAAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHHHAHAA! NOT THE BUTTON! NOT THERE! PLEEHEHEEEEEIEIEIEIIEIAIAIAAAAHAHAAASE!”

“Oh, this little button is going to get a few berries, it’s so cute, I can’t not give it berries while going through your initiation.” Nisroc takes another big breath and presses his lips over his belly button, blowing out slowly, it drives the baby Power crazy, drilling his heels into the bed under him, shaking his head frantically, begging him not to do it. “Aahahahahahaaha no! NO! Not the button! NOT THE BUTTON! Get away from there! Get away! Aahahahahahahahahaha! Get away! No! NO! Not there! ANYWHERE BUT THERE!” Then he blows harder, blowing a vicious berry in, and he squeals, curling his fingers tightly, pulling at his invisible restraint desperately. “EEIEIAIEAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAHAHAHA! PLEASE! PLEHEHEHEHHEAEASE!”

Nisroc sits up slightly, smiling at his younger brother, and Puriel nods. “Isn’t it nice?”

“This is very nice.” His Captain nods to him. “What’s good, Puri, show me what’s best, how do we get this one really going?”

“Oh, Nis, I know so many spots, and I’d be happy to tell you all about them.” Sablo stares at him in horror, Puriel knows _all_ of his spots, _every_ single one, and that was bad enough, he didn’t need Nisroc knowing them too. “First, button berries get him the most, if you’re going to do button berries, you have to do them right.”

“Show me, little brother, show me how to do them properly.”

“Why, I’d be glad to.”

Sablo shakes his head, giggling hard, when the medic sits up, pressing his hands onto his belly, takes a deep breath, and rushes down, burying his face into his belly. “Puhuhuhuri nohohoho! Nohoho buhuhuhutton beheheherries! NO! EEIEIEIAIAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAAHA AAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIAIAEIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHHAHHAEHEHAAAHEAAEIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOSE NOHOHOHOT THOHOHOSE! PUHUHUHUHUUHURRIIHIHIEIAIAIAIAIAIEIIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEE BUHUHUHUHUTTON! NOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHE BUUHUHHUHUHUTTON! EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHEHEHEEEIEAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHHAAAA EEEIEIIEAIAAIEAEAEEAAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PUHUHUHURI NOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOT BUHUHUHUTTON BEHEHEHEHEHEHERRIES! NOHOHOHOT BUHUHUHUTTON BEHEHEHEHEHERRIES! EEIEIAIEAIAIAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAH AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHHAHAHAHAA STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! STOHOHOHOHOHOOP! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOREEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAEHEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA! PUHUHUHUUHUURI PLEEHEHEHHEHEEEASE! AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AEIEIEIAEIIAIAAAHHAAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE PLEHEHEHEHEASE! EEIEIAIEAAIAHAHAHHHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAH AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! EIEIEAIAIAIAHAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHA NOHOHHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE BUHUHUHUTTON BEHEHEHEHEHEERRIES!”

He pants as the medic pulls away, giggling harshly, and Puriel smiles at him, turning his attention back to his oldest brother, gesturing to their currant initiate. “Would you care to test the waters?”

Nisroc smiles at him. “Why I’d be glad to, little brother.”

Sablo squeals as he leans forward, shaking and bouncing, trying to arch to the side, away from him and his incoming button berries. “No! NO! No more! NO MORE! Not button berries! Not those! Please! Nis, please! Not button berries! Not those! No more! Please! No more!” He squeals again as his head rushes down, burying his face into his belly, and blows a vicious berry over his belly button. “EEEIEIAIEAIAAIAAHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHAAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHHAHAHAAGAIN! NOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHAHAAHAAGAIN! EEIEIIAIAIAAHAHAAHAHAAHAHHAHHAHAHHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEAEEAAEEAEEEEAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAAHA EEIEIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOT BUHUHUHUHUTTON BEHEHEHEHEERRIES! NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOSE! NIHHIHIHIHIHIIS PLEHEHEHHEHEEEEEEIEIIEAIEAAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAAAAA AHHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAEHHEAEEIAEIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOO NIHIHIHIHIHIHIS NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEEEIAIEAIAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE BUHUHUHUHUTTON! EEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEEHEEAAAEEAEAAHAAHAHAHAHHAHHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHHEASE AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA AHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA NOHOHOHOHO MOHHOHOHOHOOREEEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHHOHORE! NOHOHOHHO MOHOHOHOHORE BUHUHUHUHUTTON BEEHEHEHEHEHEHEERRIEEIEHEHEHEHAHHAEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! EIEIEAIAEIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA EEIEAIAIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAEEHEHHEAAHEAHAAIAIAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT AHAHAHAHEHEEAHEIEAEAAIAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAHAEEEEAIIAEIAEIAAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEASE! NIHIHIHIHIHIS NOHOHOHOO MOHOHOHOREEEIEIAIAEIAAHAAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAA NIHIHIHIHIS PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASEEEIEAIAIAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AEEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAEEEHAHAEHEAHEEAAAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAA! STOHOHHOHOHHOOP STOHOHOHOOHOP STOHOHOHOOHOP! IEEIEIEIEIAIAEAAAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AEEEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHHAA AEEIIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOREEIAIAAIAIAIAIEEIIEAAHAAAHHAHAHAAHAHHAHA EIEIEIAIAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA IHIHIHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAHAAAIR! IHIHIHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAAAIR! EEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NIHIHIHIHIIIS! NIHIHIHIHIIS PLEEHEHHAAHHAEAEEEIAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOORE! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOREEIEIEIAIAIEAAHAHAHHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE BUHUHHUHUHUTTON BEHEHHEHEHERRRIEIEIEIEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA AAEEIEIAIAIIAAAAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAA EIEIEAIIAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAHHAHAHAHAHAHEHEEIEIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AEIEIIEIEIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA! PUHUHUHUHURI! PUHUHUUHURI MAHAHAHAHAAKEEIEIEAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA MAHAHAHHAAAKE HIIHIHIHIHIHIM STOHOOHOHOHOOP EEIIEAIEIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHHAHAAKEEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA IHIHIHIHIHIHIT AHAHAHHAHAAANYMOHOHOHOHORE! MAAHAHAHAHAHHAAKEEIEIEIAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA MAHAHAHAHAHAHAAKE HIHIHIHIHIIIM STOHOHOHOOHOP! EIEIEAIAIEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA EIEIEIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAABBBEEEE HEHEHEHEHEHHEHEELP! HEHEHEHEHEHEEEIEIIEIEAIEAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA HEHEHEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHHA! RAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEHEHEHEHEEEIIEIAAIAIAAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA HEHEHEHEHEHEHHEELP MEHEHEHEIEIEIAIAHAHAHAAHHAHAHHAHA! PLEHEHEHHEAHAEAIIAIAAIAIAAHAAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHHEHEASE MAHAHAHAHAHAKE HIHIHHIHHIHIHIHIHIIM STOHHOOHHOHOHHOOP! EIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AEIIEIAIAIAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AEIEIIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PUHUHUHUHUUHURII MAHAHAHAHHAAHAKE HIHIHIHIHIIM STOHOHHOHOHOHOOP! MAAHHAHAHAHAAKEEIIEIAIAAIEAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AEIEIEIEAIIAEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AEEHEHHEAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHHA MAHAHHAHHAHAHAKE HIHIHIHIIM STOHOHHOHOHOHOP! EIEIEIAIAAIAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHA EIEIIEAIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHHAA AEIEIIEIAEIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Puriel finally has mercy on the boy, Nis was being mean, and shoves his older brother away. “Nis, calm down with the button berries, you don’t wanna kill him.”

His Captain chuckles softly. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

“And they call me the brutal one.” Sablo pants heavily, giggling deliriously, his chest heaving. “See what you’ve done to him. We’re only just starting his initiation and you’ve nearly killed him.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Nisroc raises his hands defensively. “I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”


	267. My Peli Belly (Puriel & Peliel)

“Ah, it’s nice to have you back where I want you.” Peliel giggles as fingers curl around the bottom hem of his tunic, pushing it up slowly, his belly shakes with his giggles, and he whines softly, he wishes it wouldn’t. “No, no, no. No hating on this little belly. Only positive vibes here. What have we here, what is it?” He lays over the little guards legs as he pushes his tunic up over his chest. “Oh, look at what I found, lookie here.” He wiggles a finger lightly under his belly button, and he shrieks softly, arching his back slightly. “I found a chubby little belly.”

“Puhuhuhuri!”

“I don’t know how anyone could hate this adorable little chubby belly, just look at it,” he scrunches the little belly up. “It’s delectable.” And buries his face into the roll he created, nibbling on it playfully, the younger angel throws his head back and squeals, arching his back again. He nibbles for a good mminte, until the youth is slightly breathless, and then he pulls away. “Mmm, my favorite chubby little belly, I love this belly very much, Peli, if you ever change it, I will be quite upset.” Peliel giggles up at him breathlessly, and he smiles, leaning over to press a kiss over his belly button. “How about I give this adorable little tummy a bit of a tickle torture, this extra ticklish little tummy, does that sound like fun?

He shakes his head. “Puri! Nohoho!”

“I _knew_ you’d think so, too.” He rests his fingers on either side of his tummy, poking them in, ready for some action, and the young guard’s giggles pick up quickly as he stares at them, waiting in anticipation for the strike. “One adorable tummy tickle torture coming right up.” He wiggles his fingers in and the guard squeals, throwing his head back, squirming from side to side, shrieking with laughter as fingers circle a tickly dance around his tummy.

“Puhuhuhuhuhuhuriihihihihihii! Nohohohohoo! Nohohohoho! Nohhohohot thehehehe tuhuhuhummy! Eeeieieiaiieaiaiaaahahahahhahahahaha!”

“Why not?” Puriel moves to wiggle his fingers into his lower belly. “Could it be because this tummy is really, _really_ ticklish?”

“Yehehehhes!” Peliel shrieks and arches his back. “Tihihihihihickles! Ihihihhihit tihihihickles! Eeieieieiieaieiaaiaahahahahahahhahaha nohohohot thehehehe tuhuhuhummy! Aahahahahahhhaha!”

“If that’s true, then it only rightfully deserves as many tickles as it can get, don’t you think?”

“Nohohohoho! Eeieieieiieaiaiaaahahahahahahhaahaa I dohhohohoohon’t! Aahahahahahahhaa!”

The medic sighs when someone knocks on his door, and dips a finger into the guards belly button, just because he’s got company, doesn’t mean he’s giving the little guy a break, and Peliel squeals, arching his back, as he wiggles his finger. “Come in!”

“Hey, Puri.” Titus smiles at his young guard, one of his youngest, a shrieking giggling mess under his older brother. “Torturing Peli, again?”

Puriel smiles back at him, wiggling his finger in the younger angel’s belly button still. “I can’t help it, it’s just adorable.”

The guard’s captain chuckles softly, nodding in agreement. “It is, I agree, I’m waiting for Sora to wake up from his nap, mind if I join in until he does?”

His older brother waves him over. “Not at all, this chubby little tummy is big enough for the both of us, plenty of room.”

“Tuhuhuhus! Eeieieieaiaiaiaiaahahahahahahhahaha nohohohohoho! Nohohohohoho Tuhuhhuhuhuuhus!”

Peliel squeals when Thaddeus pokes his head around the edge of the doorframe. “I came to see Nis, but heard Peli’s adorable laughter, got room for one more?” Titus and Puriel exchange looks and smile, turning back to the Warden, and nod. “Sure, Thaddy, there’s more then enough room, come join us.”

He pumps a fist in the air, and darts around the corner, trotting over to stand at the other side of the bed, Titus has already taken up the right side, and both him and the Power lower themselves to sit at the small guards sides.

Puriel smiles, looking back down to the adorable chubby little guard, wiggling his finger in his belly button still, and he shrieks when his captain and Warden wiggle a finger into his lowest ribs. “So, what should we do to our favorite chubby little guard?”

Titus and Thaddeus hum in unison, looking up at each other, the medic waits for their answer, they know the little guard best, one being his captain and the other being his superior. The Warden smiles at him, raising his hands, in the form of claws, Titus returns his smile, nodding in turn, raising his own hands. Puriel looks between them, humming in understanding, and pulls his finger out of the guard’s belly button, raising his own hands.

“Oh, I like how you think, Thaddy.”

The younger angel smiles. “I do, too.”

Peliel gulps, under his giggles, and looks between the three of them with wide eyes, shaking his head slowly. “Nohoho! Thahahat’s mehehean! Thahahat’s reheheally mehehean! Nohohot mohohore clahahaws! Nohohohot mohohore! Thahahat’s mehehean!”

“Guys, I might want to get me some armpits when it’s time to give this little chubby tummy a break, if you’d please.” The two of them nod, turning slightly, lifting his arms up above his head, holding them there with their grace. “Much obliged.”

The young guard tries to pull his arms down, he tries very hard, but they’re stuck, he can wiggle his hands and flex his fingers, but he can’t move his arms. “That’s not fair! Thahahat’s nohohohot fahahahair!”

“Thaddy?”

“Yes, Puri?”

“Are you ready?”

“I’m more then ready.”

“Tus?”

“Yes, big brother?”

“Are you ready?”

“Read and abled.”

“Shall we, good gents?”

“We shall.”

“Let’s do this.”

Peliel _screams_ when the three of them start clawing into his belly, six hands, thirty fingers, squealing with loud bright laughter, arching his back sharply, kicking his legs as best as he can under the weight of the medic’s body, pressing his head back against the pillow under him. “EEIEIEIAIAIEAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAHAHAAHAHAHAAAAAAAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAHAHHAAIR! IHIHIHIHIHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAHAHHAAIR! EEIEIEIAIEAIAIAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEAEAAEEIEIIEIEAIEAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! NOHOHOHOHHOOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! NOHOHOHOHOHO! EIEIEIEIAIEAIAAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH AAEIEIEIEIAIAAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA PLEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHHAHAAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT! YOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHHOUR BEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEING MEHEHEHEHEHHEHEAN! BIHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIG MEHEHEHEHHEANIES! BIHIHIHIHIHIHIIEIEIEHEAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAA BIHIHIHIHIG MEHEHEHEHHEHEHEANIES! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES! IHIHIHIHIHIIT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES! NOHOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIEIAIAIEEAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! PLEHEHEHEHHEHEEASE!”

They all pull away, their fingers still shaped into claws, and he heaves for a breath, giggling wildly, and looks between them all again, his eyes widening as their fingers hover of his tummy again, and he shakes his head, eyes wide, when the fingers start to wiggle slightly. “More tummy torture?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHOHO TUHUHUHUHUMMY TOHOHOHOORTURE! NOHOHOHHO MOHOHOHORE CLAAHAHAHHAHAHAWS!” He squeals brightly when their fingers claw back in, arching his back again. “EEIEIEIAIAIEAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAAHAHAHAHAAHHHAAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAEEAEAIEIEIIEIEIEIEIEIEAAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA PLEHEHEHEHHEHEEASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHII CAHAHAHHAANT! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAAHAHAAHHAHAHAWS! GEHEHEHEHEHEHETS AWAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAY! GEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEET AWAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAY! EEIEIEIAIAIAIIAAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAIAIAIIAAIIAEIEIEIEIIEIEAIAIIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOREEEIEIEAIIIEAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEEHE CLAHAHAHAHHAWS! THEHEHEEHEHEHEY TIHIHIHIHICKLE! THEHEHEHEHEHEY TIHIHIHIHICKLE! EIEIEIEIAIAEIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA THEHEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAHAWS TIHIHIHIHIHICKLE! AAAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAAAEEEIIEIEIEIEIEIIAIAIIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA NOHOHHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOOHORREEEIIEIEIEIIAAIIAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAHAHHHHHAHAHAHAA! MYHYHYHYHY BEHEHEHEHHEEELLY! MYHYHYHY BEEHEHEHEHHEEELLY! EEIEEIAIIAIAIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAEEEEIIEIEIEIAIIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA MYHYHYHYHY BEHEHEHEELLYY HUHUHUHUHURRTTSS! EIEIEIEIAAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! MYHYHYHYHYYHY BEHEHEHEHEELLY!”

They pull away again, chuckling softly at the mess they’ve created of their favorite little chubby guard, Peliel was adorable, if you knew the right buttons to push, and they _all_ knew the right buttons to push.

“Are you guys torturing our little pelican?” The three of them look up at their voice, Abraxos smiles at them in the doorway, Nisroc peering in over his shoulder. “Is this a invitation only party, or can any one join the festivities?”

Thaddeus and Titus laugh softly, nodding their heads, and Puriel smiles at the guard or a moment before peering over his shoulder at them. “It’s an open invitation kind of party.”

“Cool, great,” Abraxos steps into his mentee’s room. “Let me have those toes.”

Nisroc steps in behind him. “I want those armpits, they’re mine.”

Peliel giggles harder when the Captain of the Powers settles himself over his head and the Lieutenant of the Powers settles himself down at his feet.

Thaddeus looks over. “I want that other set of toes.” And climbs down to the foot of the bed, sitting over his lower legs.

Puriel slides off of his legs, claiming the Warden’s abandoned spot, and sits at his side.

“Ready guys?”

They all nod, intoning their affirmation to his inquiry, and the small chubby guard looks between them all, to Nisroc’s hands hovering over his armpits, to Puriel and Titus’s claws hovering over his belly, to the feeling of Abraxos fingers curled around his foot, and the feeling of Thaddeus’s feather between his first two toes.

“Ready.”

“Good. Let’s dig in.”

Peliel _screeches_ when it begins, they’re cruel beings when they want to be, and jolts, bouncing around, flexing his fingers wildly, kicking his legs as best as he can with Thaddeus sitting on them, cackling wildly as they start their assault.

Nisroc’s fingers fluttering over his armpits.

Puriel and Titus clawing into his belly.

Thaddeus brushing his feather between the toes of his left foot.

Abraxos nibbling on the toes of his right foot.

“EEEEEEEEEEEIIEIEIAAIIAIAHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHEEHAEEEIEIEIAIAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHEEAEAEEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAAAA NOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! TOHOHOHOHOO MUHUHUHHUHUHUCH! IHIHIHIHIHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAHAHAAIR! NOHHOHOOHOHOOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE BEHEHEHEHELLY! EIEIEIEIAIEAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEEHEAHEIEIEIIEAIAIAIAAAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHEHEAEHAEAEAIEAIEAIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHE AHAHAHAHHARMPITS! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAEHEHAHEEAIIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE TOHOHOHOHOHOES! EIEIEIAIAEIAIAIAIAAIHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHEHEAHEAEEEAIEAIEAIAIAIAIAHAHAHHHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHEHEHEHEIEAIEAIAEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA PLEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHHEEASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHHAAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT! EEEIEIEIAIIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAEEHEHEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAKE IHHIHIHIHIHIHIT EEIEIIEAIIAAIAIAIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAEAHHEHEHAAEHAIAIAIAIEEIEIEAHAEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAEAEAIEAIEAIAAIAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEAEAIEAIIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHHIHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHHAAHAIR! IHIHIHIHIHHIT’S NOHOHOHOHOT FAAHAHAHHAHAHAAIR! PLEHEHEHEEEHAHAEHEAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHEAIEIEAIEAIEAIEIEIAIAAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! MYHYHYHYHYHYHY BEHEHEHEHHEELLY! MYHYHYHYHYHY BEHEHEHEHEHEHEELLY HUHUHUHUHUURTS!”

They let go of him, and he giggles deliriously, curling up on his side. “Mehehehean! Sohohoho mehehean! Sohohoo sohohho mehehhean!”

His captain chuckles softly, and tugs him closer, turning him around, pulling him up to rest against his chest. “You’re right, that was a bit mean, little pelican, forgive us?”

Peliel giggles softly, rubbing his belly to try and rub away the remaining tingles, and leans back against the Power when he rubs his belly soothingly. “I fohohorgive you!”

Titus squeezes him in a hug for a moment before returning to rubbing his tummy. “Thanks, Peli.”

The others smile at him, ruffling his hair as they make their leave, Abraxos catches Puriel by the back of his tunic and tells him it’s his turn, and the young guard giggles at the audible gulp the medic let’s out as he’s dragged away, and leans back against his captain fully, smiling when warm lips pressed to the side of his forehead. “I love you, Tus.”

The Power chuckles softly. “I love you too, pelican.”


	268. Meeting In The Chamber (Sabaoth & Achaiah)

“My desk needs to sit still, you’re making my writing sloppy, and I don’t like my writing being sloppy.” The prisoner with the unfortunate task of being at the Co-Warden’s complete and utter questionable mercy only giggles harder, the feeling of the pen scribbling over their belly is tingly and light, and it’s driving them crazy, they can’t help that their belly is shaking with giggles. He sighs deeply, exaggeratedly, and reaches around to wiggle his fingers into their side, and they shriek with laughter, arching away slightly, and he leans over to pull them back into place. “You _need_ to sit still so I can finish so we can begin your session, it’s fifteen minutes, and it doesn’t start until I finish my paperwork for your file, so sit still, mister.”

“Sahahahhaabbaahahaahha! Ihihihit tihihihickles!”

“Oh, you think this tickles, if you don’t sit still, I’ll show you what _really_ tickles.”

They hold their breath, trying to keep their belly still, to hold back their giggling, but Sabaoth is a cheating cheater who cheats and wiggles his fingers back into their side, and they shriek again, wiggling from side to side.

“Okay, mister!” The Co-Warden tugs the paper away dramatically, stuffing it into his file, and leans over to toss the file and pen onto the table at his feet. “I’ll give you a reason to be a little wiggle worm.” And falls back into position, clawing his fingers into the prisoners belly, they squeal brightly, wiggling from side to side, trying to evade those claws, but they remain there unperturbed in their struggle. “There, now you can be a little wiggle worm, Achaiah, now it’s going to be _really_ bad, because you wouldn’t let me finish my paperwork.”

“THAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHADDY NOHOOHHOHOHOHHOO! SAHAHAHAHAHHAABBAAAHHAHAHAHA! SAHAHAHAHAABBAAHAHAHAA! NOHOHOHOOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! EEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAAHAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOT THEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAHAWS! EEEIEIIEAIIEAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AEEAEAEAAIIEIEAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA NOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEE TIHIHIHIHIHICKLY CLAHAHAHAHAHHAWS! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AEEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE CLAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAWS! SAHAHAHHAABBBAAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOHOHORRYYYY! IHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHORRY! FIHIHIHIHHIINISH YOHOHOHOHOHOUR PAHAHAHAHHAHAAPERWOHOHHOHOHORK!”

“No, no, you wanted to be a wiggle worm, so _be_ a wiggle worm.” Sabaoth wiggles a finger in his prisoner’s belly button, and he squeals again, arching his back. “I’m going to make sure your session is _extra_ bad, because you were being so _rude_ , not letting me finish my paperwork.”

“EEIEIAAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAA GEHHEHEHEHEHEHHEHHHEHEET IHHIHIHIHIIT OHHOHOHOHOUT! GEHEHEHEHHET OHOHOHOHOHOUT FROHOHOHOHOM THEHEHEHEHEHERE! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA SSAHAHAHHAHAABABBAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA GEHEHEHEHHEHET OHOHOHOHOUT! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERRREEIEIEIEIAIAAEAHAHHAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE! EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE BUHUHUHUHUHUTTON! NOHOHHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHE BUHUHHUHUHUHUTTON! EEIEIIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASEEEIEIEIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA! NOHHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEERE! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE BUHUHUHUHUTTON! NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAA BUTTON! AAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAA PLEHHHEHHEHEHEHEHEEASE!”

Sabaoth smiles lightly, circling his finger around and around his belly button, the prisoner giggling all the while. “Why not the button?” He slowly circles his finger closer to the belly button just waiting to be tortured. “It is because it’s a wee bit ticklish?”

“Yehehehes! Yehehehes!” Achaiah giggles, trying to suck in his tummy, not an easy task considering his nonstop giggling. “Tihihihihicklish! Ihihihit ihihiis! Ihihit ihihihis!”

“It is?” The Co-Warden circles his finger back into his belly button for a moment. “Good.” And, starts wiggling his finger again, the prisoner throws his head back, squealing and cackling wildly, kicking his feet as best as he can, twisting his arms around desperately. “That makes this so much easier.”

“EEIIEIEIEAIEAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA AAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! SAHAHAHHAAHABBBAAHAHAHAHHAHHAHHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEERE! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE BUHUHUHUHUHUTTON! NOHHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE BUHUHUHUUTTON! EEIIEAIIAAIAAAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA EIEIIEIAIHAAHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHHEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE BUHUHUHUHUTTON! SAHAHAHAHHAAHABBBAAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHHOHOHOHOHORE! EEIEIIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA GEHEHEHHEHET IHIHIHIHIT OHOHOHOHUT! GEHEHEHEHEHEHET OHHOHOHOHOOUT OHOHOHOHOOF THEHEHEHEHEHEHERREEHEEHEHHEHEHE! GEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEET IHIHIHIHIHIT OHHOHOHOHOHOHOUT! EIEIEAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAAAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHE BUHUHUHUHUUTTON! SAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAABBAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHA PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT!”

“You can’t take it?” He pulls his finger out, and leans forward against the side of the table, wiggling a finger in the younger angels side lightly, and his prisoner giggles brightly, arching away from him. “I got a surprise for you, you want to see what it is?” Achaiah giggles and shakes his head. “Are you sure, _I_ really like this surprise, I’m sure you will too. You want to know what my surprise is for?” Achaiah shakes his head again. “I think it you do. Let me show you my surprise.” The prisoner watches him with wide eyes, lean over slightly as he reaches into his pocket, giggling harder when he makes a face. “Now, I know it’s in here somewhere, ah, there it is, I found it, no worries.” He pulls his surprise out of his pocket and holds it up for the prisoner to see, and Achaiah’s eyes widen, shrieking at the sight of his so called surprise.

A fork.

No one, absolutely no one, ever wants to see the fork.

“You know what it’s for?” He watches with wide eyes as the Co-Warden steps up around the table, coming to stand above his head, smiling down at him that same smile Thaddy has when he’s about to be mean. His sessions are usually with Saba, but when he’s sick or otherwise indisposed and unable to be there, Thaddy handles it, Thaddy’s bad, but in his opinion, Saba is meaner, when he wants to be. “It’s for this armpit right here.”

Achaiah shakes his head as the fork is held over his armpit, giggling harder, begging him not to, and he gets a chuckle for his begging, and the fork starts scratching at his armpit, and he screams, struggling against his binds, straining against the strap around his wrist, squealing with loud laughter.

“EEEIEAIIAIAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHHAHHA EEHEHEHEHEHEHHEAAEHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAA AHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHA AAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THAHHAAHHAHAHAHAT! PLEHEHEEHEHHEEASE NOHOHOHOT THAHAHHAHHAHAHAT! NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHE FOHOHOHOHOORK! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA EIEIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAANYTHIHHIHIHIING BUHUHUHUHUHUT THEHEHEHEE FOHOHOHOHORK! AAAAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAAHAHHHAAHHAHAHAHHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAAAA AAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE FOHOHOHOHOHORK! EIEIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAAHHAHHAAHHAHAAHAA STOHOHOHOHOP STOHOHOHOHHOP! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHHAA EIEIEIEIAIAIIAIEIAIAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! STOHHOHOHOHOHOOP AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHA AAHAAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHHAHHAAHAHHAAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEAEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEHAHEHEAHEAHEHEHEEEASE! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA SAHAHAHAHAABBBAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHHA STOHOHOHOHHOHOOP! STOHOHOHOHOOP NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE FOHOHOHOHOHORK! PLEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEASE! SAHAHAHAHAHAHAABBBBAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEEHHEHEE FOHOHOHOHOORK! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEEH FOOHHOHOHOHOHOHORK! EEIIEAIAIAAAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAA AAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAHAAA!”

The Co-Warden chuckles softly. “I’ll come back to that other armpit in a few minutes, let’s go somewhere else, you’re session is far from over.”


	269. Returning To Norm (Thaddeus & Gadreel)

“So,” the prisoners shy back to the back corners of their cells, trying to hide in the shadows, cautious, it had been a long while since the Warden had been away, since the change had been noticed and the oldest Power had taken him away, they hadn’t seen him for nearly two weeks, and then he returned, silently locking himself up in his office, not talking nor looking at them. “Who wants to go first today?” This was the first time, in the week after his return, that he’d addressed them, that he made his way down the hall, his boots stomping softly on the stone floor. “I’ve done some soul searching, had to get some work done on myself, and I’m raring to go.”

The prisoner in the cell he stops in front of squeaks and ducks back in the shadows as much as they can. “How about you, Bazazath, do you want to be first?” The prisoner within shakes his head frantically, and the Warden eyes him carefully, nodding slightly. “You’re spared for now, but I’ll be back for you, you and me, we’re going to spend some quality time together.”

He chooses to ignore the soft whimper that follows such a statement and continues on his way, peering into cells as he passes them, looking for his first plaything, one of many for the day, and stops outside of another cell. “How about you, Abner, want to go first?”

The sentry shakes his head mutely, curled into a ball, in the corner of his cell, and ducks back down under his arms. “Oh, fine, no fun, I’ll be back for you too, count on it.” Abner whines softly at the promise, and he chooses to ignore that, stepping over to the cell next door. “How about you, Sabrathan, are you feeling lucky today?” The prisoner inside shakes his head just as silently as Abner had before him, and he sighs, he should have expected the response he’d receive. “Okay, alright, I’ll be back for you too, mister.”

Thaddeus continues on his way, looking in on his prisoners, it breaks his heart to see them so terrified of him, and he vows to change that, he’s back to normal, and he’s ready to bring things in his Prison back to normal too. He hums as he comes to stand in front of another cell, crossing his arms loosely at the occupant within, they stare up at him from their corner. “You.”

The prisoner shrieks, curling further into his corner, shaking his head frantically. “No! No, please! Please! Not me! Please, not me!”

The Warden nods to the guards that had been trailing him and gestures to the cell he stands before. “This one.”

They nod, and he steps back as they come to stand before the cell door, unlocking it mutely, and pulling it open, stepping inside to collect the prisoner their Warden has chosen as his first victim. The prisoner wails as they grab him by the arms, digging his heels into the stone floor, pulling and struggling against their grip, tears streaming down his face as he screams for help, for someone to help him, to stop them, to do something.

The other prisoners watch from their corners as the guards drag the unlucky one down the hall, his wails and sobs echoing in the silence, the Warden trailing behind them languidly, watching the spectacle before him silently. They listen as the prisoner is tugged into the chamber, the sound of the straps being secured, and the wailing and sobbing fades into silence when the door closes with a thud and a click.

…

Thaddeus watches him sob, strapped down on the table, looking around at the tarnished instruments littering the table at the prisoners feet, before stepping forward, the prisoner tracks him, tears streaming down his face, choking on his sobs as he tries to silence them, and clenches his eyes closed as he comes to stand above his head, curls his hands around his slick tearstained cheeks, and leans over.

Gadreel chokes on a sob, his eyes flying open at the feeling of lips pressing to his forehead, and they rest there, for a good minute, at least, hands curled around his cheeks gently, tenderly even. “It’s alright, grasshopper, it’s going to be alright.”

He licks his lips. “T—T—Taddy?”

“That’s right, baby brother, that’s right, it’s Taddy.”

Gadreel inhales deeply to settle himself, swallowing his sobs, and takes a moment to process. “H—Hurt me?”

“No, little grasshopper, I’m not going to hurt you.” The lips pull away and when he looks into the eyes of the one hovering over him, they’re his big brother’s eyes, Taddy’s eyes, not the monster that had been reigning over them for so long, they’re Taddy’s eyes, not Thaddeus’s eyes, and he smiles down at him. “I am going to play with some toes though.”

The young prisoner gives a soft watery giggle, instinctively curling his toes up at the thought of it, and the older angel chuckles softly at his soft giggling. “That’s much better. Oh, yes, I’m going to get me some toes, then I might play with some armpits.” He reaches over to wiggle a finger into the younger angel’s armpit, and Gadreel giggles harder, biting back a soft shriek. “And, then I’m going to finish off with a small little belly, are you ready, little grasshopper, are you ready for your session?” The young sentry giggles harder, a tad brighter, less watery, and shakes his head. “I knew you were ready.”

Thaddeus smiles down at him, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, and pushes away from the edge of the table. “I have to clean up in here, it’s a mess, I need to get rid of some junk.” He crosses over to the door. “Let’s crack this just a bit, so the others can hear, so they can know I’m not hurting you.” He pushes the door open just a crack, just enough that noise from within can escape to the outside world, and turns back to his prisoner, one of his favorites. “Alright, now that we’re all set, let’s begin.”

Gadreel giggles brightly when the Warden comes to stand at his feet, picking at his toes softly, and he twists his feet around, curling his toes up, as he does. “Look what I brought.” His eyes widen when his older brother reaches behind him and pulls a feather out from the bun on the back of his head, twirling it before his two fingers. “Remember this?”

“Tahahahaddy! Nohoho!”

“Oh, you _do_ remember this.” Thaddeus looks down at the prisoners left foot, holding it in place by the big toe, and threads his feather between the fourth and fifth toe. “Insert it like so.” The sentry giggles harder, wiggling his foot again, shaking his head. “And, begin.”

Gadreel squeals when the feather starts brushing between his toes, cackling brightly, and twists his foot around desperately. “Eeieieiaieaiiaiaaahahahahahahhahahahahaaaaaaahahahahahahahahahahahahaha Taahahahahahahhaaddyyyy! Eieieieiaiiaaiaaiaahahahahahahhahahahhhahahahaa aahahahahahahhahahahahaa aaaaahahahahahhahahahahahahahaa nohohohohot thehehehe tohohohohohoes! Nohohohoot thehehehehee tohohoohohoes! Eeieeieiieaiiaaiahahahahahahahahhaa ahahahahahahahhahahahaha aaahhahahahahahahahahaa! Geeehehehehehehheheheet ihihihihihit ohohohohohout! Gehehehehehehet ihihihihihit ohhohhohohohoohout! Pleeehehehehehheeease! Eeieieieieieaieiaieaiaaiahahahahahahhahaha aahahahahahahahahhahhahahahaha aahahahahahahahahhahahahhahahaha Tahahahahhahahaadddyyy! Eeeeieieiieaiaiaiaeahahahahahahhahahahahaha nohohohoho! Nohohohohoho eeeeieieiieaieaiiaaahahahahahahhahahhaahaha nohohohot thehehehehe fehehehheather! Nohohohot thehehehehehe toohohohohoes! Aaaahahahahhahahahahehhheaeaheieieiaiaiahahahahhahahahhahha nohohohohot thehehehehe toohohohohohoes! Gehehehehheet ihihihihit ohohohohohout! Pleehehehehehheheease! Gehehehehehehet ihihihihihit ohohohohout!”

He gulps for air when the feather’s pulled out from between his toes. “Thahahahhank yohohohohou! Thahahahank yohohohoohou!” And squeals again when the feather is threaded between his next two toes. “Eeieieiieaiieaiaaiaaahhahahahahahahaa nohohohohohohoho aaahahahahhhahahahhahahahaha aeeeieiieaiaiaiaiaaaahahahhaahahahahhaha! Nohohohohot ahahahahhahaagain! Nohohohot ahahahahhaagain! Eieieieiaieaiaiahaahahahahahahaha aahaahhahahahahahahhhaa Tahahahahahaddy! Tahahahahhaahaddy! Nohohohohoho! Eeeeiieieaiaeiaiiaaaahhahahahahahahahaa ahahahaahhahahahahahaa aahaaaahahahahahahahhahahahahaa nohohohohoho! Nohohohohohot thehehehehhee tohohohohes! Nohohohot thehehehehehe toohohohohoes! Eeieieiaieaiaiaiaaahahahahahahhhahaa aahahahahahahahhaha aahahahahahahaaaahahahahahhahahahhaaha nohohohohoho! Eieieiieaiaiiaaahahahahahahhahahahaa Taahahahhahahahahahhaaaddy! Gehehehehheet ihihihihit ohohohohout! Gehehehehehhet ihihihihit ohhohohohohout! Eieieiieaiieaiaaiaahhahahahahahahaha aaahahahhahahahahahahahhaah aaahahahaahhahahahheeaeeaieieiieaieaahahahhahahahahaha nohohohohoot thehehehehhehehhehehhe tohohohohoes! Eieeiieaiiaaiaaahhaahahhahahahahahaa aaaahahahahahahhaahhahaa aaaahahahahahahahahhahaha nohohohohot thehehehehehehe toohohohohooes!”

“Not the toes, huh?” He stops his administrations so they can talk. “But, you’ve got a whole other foot of toes that need a dusting with the feather.”

“Taddy! Not the toes! Please not the toes!”

“Aww.” Gadreel giggles at his visible pout. “But, I _like_ the toes!”

“Taddy! Please!”

“Oh, fine.” He tucks his feather behind his ear and crosses slowly out from the foot of the table. “You never let me have any fun. _Never_.” Thaddeus reaches out to pinch the younger angel’s nose as he crosses around to stand at the head of the table. “Because, you’re a big meanie.” Gadreel giggles again, a weird sound, from his nose being pinched. “I can be a meanie too, you know, I’m being nice, but I can be a meanie too.” He lets go of his nose, and pokes his index fingers into his prisoners armpits, wiggling them slowly. “ _Especially_ with armpits.”

Gadreel giggles, squirming lightly as much as he can in his bindings, flexing his fingers. “Tahahahaddy! Nohoho!”

“No? What do you mean _‘no’_?” The Warden chuckles softly. “It’s either toes or armpits, you pick which one.”

“Noohohoho toohohohohoes! Nohohoho tohohoes!”

“Then, it’s time for armpits.” His prisoners giggles fall silent when he stops wiggling his index fingers. “I’m going to tickle torture these armpits.”

Gadreel shrieks softly at the thought of it. “No!”

“Oh, yes, a nice armpit tickle torture, how’s that sound, huh?”

“Tahahaddyy! Nohoho! Nohohot thahahat!”

“I think it sounds nice too.” Thaddeus pulls his hands back, poising his fingers just under his elbows, and wiggles his fingers slowly, making his way down his arms slowly but steadily. “They’re coming, grasshopper.” Gadreel giggles harder and twists from side to side. “They’re coming for you.” He bites his lip as he tries to hold back another shriek. “They’re going to give those armpits a good tickle torture.” He does not succeed at holding back his shriek and the wiggling fingers draw closer and closer. “They’re almost here.”

The younger angel giggles feverishly, looking between the two hands with wide alert eyes, and shakes his head as they grow closer and closer. “Taahahahahhaaddy nohohoho! Nohohoho! Nohohot thahahhahat!”

“They’re coming, they’re just _right_ there.” He pauses, his hands hovering just over the younger angel’s armpits, and smiles down at him. “Grasshopper, guess what?”

“Tahahhaaddy! Nohohoo!”

“They’re here!” And flutters his fingers over both armpits, the young prisoner shrieks with laughter, arching his back, straining his arms as he tries to pull them down. “Did you miss this as much as I did?”

“Tahahahhahahahaddy! Nohohohoho! Nohohoot thehehehe ahahahahharmpihihihits! Nohohohot thehehehere! Eieieieiaieaiahaahhahahahahahaa aahahahahaahhahahahahahhahaaaa ahahahahahahahahahaa plehehehehheease! Tahahahahahddy plehehehheease! Aahahahahhahahhahahhahahaa plehehehehheaease! Eeieieiaiaiaaahhahahahahahahahahahaa nohohohot thehehehehe ahahahharmpihihihits! Aaahaahahhahahahahahahaaa aeeehehaheaaeahahhahahahahahahahhaha aahahahahahahhahhahahahahaa Taahahahhahahhaaddyyy! Nohohohohohoho! Eieieieieieeahahahahhahahahahahaa aaaahahhahahahahahhahahahahaahaa ahahahahahahahahahaha plehehehhehehehease!”

He moves over, fluttering all ten fingers over his right armpit, and Gadreel squeals softly. “Eeeeeieieieiieiaiaaeahhahahahahahahahaahhahahhhaaa nohohohohohohohoho! Yohohohohohour behehehehheheeing mehehehheheean! Aahahahahaahhahahahahhahahahahaaaaaahahahahahahhahahahahahahaa thahahahahat’s nohohohohot fahahahahair! Iihihihihihit’s nohohohot fahahahaair! Eeieiieiieaiaiaaahahhahahahhahahaa aaahahahahhahahahahhahahahaahaaha aahahahahahahahahahhahahahahaa Tahahahahhaaddyyyy! Eieieieiaieaaieahahahahhahahahahhahhaahahahaha ahaahahahahahahahahahahahhahaha stohohohohohoop! Stohohohoohohop ihihihihit!” He pauses, if anything, to give the prisoner a false sense of security, and then switches over to the other side, flutter ten fingers over that armpit too. “Nohhohohoho! Yohohohohohou trihihihihicked mehehehhe! Eeieieieiaieaiaiaahahahahahahahahahaha aaahahahahahahhahahahaa aahahahahahahahahahhahahaa nohohohohoho! Tahahahahhahaaddyyyy! Nohohohohot theheheheh ahahahhaarmpihihhihits! Nohohohhohot thehehehe ahahhaharmpihihihihihits! Eieieieieaiaeiahaaahahahahahhahaha aaahahahahahahahhahaa aahahaahhahahahahahhaahaha eeeieieiaieaiaaaahahahahahhahahhahahahaah Tahahahahahhaahaddyyy! Yohohohoou trihihihihicked mehehehehhe! Thahahahat’s nohohohot fahahahair! Aahahahahahahahahahaha aeeeeeieiieiaiiaaaaeaeaahhahahahahahahahahaha aahahahhahahahahhahahahaha aaahahahhahahahahhhahahahha ihihihihihiihhit’s nohohohot fahahahhahaair!”

The Warden smiles, wiggling his index fingers into the hollows of his prisoners armpits and Gadreel squeals again, flexing his fingers wildly. “I tricked you?” He turns to the left armpit, wiggling both of his fingers in it, and the prisoner squeals again, arching to the side, trying to get away from his two wiggling fingers. “How did I trick you?”

“Yohohohohou mahahahhaade mehehehehehe thihihihihink yohohohou stohohohoopped!”

“I made you think I’d stopped?” He moves over to the other armpit and continues his two fingered assault, and the younger angel squeals once more, arching to the other side. “I told you I was going to tickle torture these armpits, why would I stop so soon?”

“Tahahahahhaaddy! Eeehehehehehhehehehhee nohohohoo ahahahahhahaarmpihihihit tihihihickles!”

“Oh, it’s more then just regular old armpit tickles.” He returns to wiggling his two fingers back into their chosen armpits. “It’s an armpit tickle _torture_.” He circles his fingers around his armpits. “Don’t you worry though, Abner’s getting himself a tummy tickle torture, and Bazazath is getting a feet tickle torture, you’re not the only one getting one.”

“Tahahahhahaaddyyy! Nohohoho mohohohoore ahahahhhaarmpiihihihihit tihhihihihihickles! Eeieaiiaiaaiahahaahhahahahahaa nohohohoho mohohohhore!”

“No more armpit tickles, have you had enough?” Thaddeus chuckles when Gadreel nods frantically. “Is it time for tummy tickles, then?”

“Nohohohoho! Nohohohot thehehehehe tuhuhuhummy!”

“So, you want more armpit tickles then?”

“Nohohoho! Nohoho mohohore ahahahhaarmpihihihit tihihihickles!”

“Alright, no more armpit tickles,” he crosses around the side of table, leaning over the edge, holding his hands out, claws, hovering over his tummy. “It’s time for tummy tickles. This tummy, it’s going to be ruthless, I’m going to give this tummy a tickling of a life time, so many tickles, it’s going to drive this tummy crazy.”

“Eieaiaiaiaiaiaaaaaahahahhahahahahahhaa nohohohoho! Nohohot thahahahat!”

“ _So_ many tickles, a great big tummy tickle torture, not as bad as Abners, oh, that’s going to be fun. But _almost_ as bad.” He wiggles his fingers. “We’ll start with the claws and see where it goes from there.”

“Nohohohoho!” Gadreel shakes his head, looking between the wiggling fingers of both claws frantically, shrieking when they dip down. “Nohohohohot clahahahahahaws! Nohohohoot clahahahhahaws!”

“Claws are coming, it’s only a matter of when, they’re coming.”

The former sentry squeals loudly when the claws dig in. “EIEIEIEAIAIIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AEEAEEIEIEAIAAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOO NOOHHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEE CLAHHAAHHAHAHHAHAWS! EIEIEIAIAAIAAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT TUHUHUHUHUMMY TOHOHOHOHOTURE! EEIEIEIAIAAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AEEIEIIEAIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA TAHAHAHAHHAHAADDYYYY TAAHAHAHAHAHAHADDYYY NOHOHOHOHOHO! AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AEEIEIEEIAEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOOHOOEEEOEAOAOAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHA PLEHEHEHHEHEASE! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! EEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! THEHEHEHEHEHHEEY TIHIHIHIHICKLE! THEHEHEHEHEHEHEEY TIHIHIHIHIHICKLE BAHAHHAHHAHHAHAAAD! TAHAHAHAHHAHAADDDYYEYEYAYAAHAAHAHHAHAHAAHAHHAAHHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHHEERE EIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAAHAHEIEAIEAIHEAHAIAAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!”

“Not here?” He claws his fingers viciously in his prisoners lower belly. “Okay, I’ll stay right here.”

“EIEIEIAIEIEAIIEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA ANOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHHOHOHHOHO NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE! EEIEIAIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHHAHAHEHHEHEHHEHEAHHAHAAAIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHHERE! IHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAID NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEEHERE! EIEIAIAIEAAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE! EIEIAIEAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHEASE! TAHAHAHAHAHHAAADDYYY TAHAHAHHAHAHADDY PLEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEEASE! NOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHHAWS! TAHAHAHAHAHAHADDY NOHOHHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHHAHAHAHAWS! PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE! PLEHEHEHHEEASE! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE! NOHOHHOHOT THEHEHEHEEH CLAAHAHHAHAHHAWS EEIIEAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEREEEEIEIAIAIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHHIHHIHIHI CAHAHAHHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT! EEIIEAIIEAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHEHEHEHEEIEIEIEIAIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA TAHAHAHHAHHAAADDDYYYY! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE CLAHAHHHAHAHAAWS!”

“Want some berries?

Gadreel screams when the claws are pulled away, he’s held down, and his older brother rushes downwards. “NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO NOHOHOHOHOHOT BEHEHEHEHHEERRRIEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA! NOHOHOHOOT BEEHEHEHEHHEHEEHERRIRIEEEAAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA TAHAHAHAHHADDYY NOHOHOHOHOHOT BEEHEHEHEHEHEERRIREIEIEIEEAAEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIAIIAAIAHAHAAAAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOOT BEHEHEHEHEHEERRIES! EEIEIAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOOSE! IEIEIEIAIAEIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHEERE! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE BUHUHUHUHUTTON! EAEEEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA NOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE BUHUHUHUUTTON! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEERE! EIEIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA NOOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEE BUHUHUHUHUTTON! EEIEIAIIAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEEHEHHEHEHEHEEASE! AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAEHEAEIIEAIEIEIEAAHAHHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE BUHUHUHUHUTTON! TAHAHAHAHHAHAADDYYYYEYEYEEIAAIAAIAAAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAAHA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE BUUHUHUHUHUHUTTON! PLEHEHEHEHAHEAAEIAIAAHAAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEASE NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE BUHUHUHUHHUTTON!”

Thaddeus chuckles as he pulls away, rubbing the younger angels belly lightly, soothingly. “Okay, alright, you’re done. I’ve had my fun with you. You’re free to go.”

The former sentry takes a few minutes to get his giggles under control, he needs it, his belly still tingles from such a mean attack, and he _knows_ the others heard him down the hall, but he doesn’t care. It was fun, it made him feel better, and it was _Taddy_ in this room with him, not _Thaddeus_ , and he loves spending time with Taddy, even if it involves some tickle torture. “Taddy, can I take a nap in your bed?”

“You want to take a nap in my bed?” The Warden nods lightly. “I think that can be arranged.”


	270. Night Time Trouble (Rahatiel, Sablo, & Chayyliel)

He stands in the middle of the hall, hugging his stuffed lizard to his chest, he’s had a bad dream, the darkness, the chill, the cruel echoing laughter, he didn’t want to go back to his room, he’d be swallowed by the darkness again, and he didn’t want that, he couldn’t survive it again, he knows he can’t.

Normally, he’d go to Abe, but Abe was away at the moment, his second go to was Puri, because he was warm and squishy and liked to cuddle around you almost as much as Abe did, but he’d gone with Puri, his next was Nis, but Hama was staying with him while Abe was away, and he didn’t want to bring even more of a burden on him. Sora was sleeping with Tus tonight.

And, that only left him one other option, standing outside of their door, he stares at the name plate on the door.

They’d never been that close, they’d only known each other for a short amount of time before the other died and he was swallowed by the Darkness, they hadn’t had a chance to grow close.

But he was the only one left for him to go to, so he sighs deeply, and reaches for the door handle, twists it around, and pushes the door open slightly, peeking in through the crack in the door. The fire in the fireplace and blazing warmly, casting a warm glow over the room, and he sees them, curled up together in bed, sleeping peacefully.

He almost doesn’t want to disturb them, they look so comfortable, sleeping so soundly, but the thought of going back to his room, all alone, stuck with the all encompassing darkness and that cruel light laughter keeps him in his place, hugging his stuffed lizard closer, he steps into the room, closing the door lightly behind him, not wanting to make too much noise. He comes to stand at the side of the bed, watching them sleep peacefully, their blankets pulled up over them, nice and warm.

But he wants someone to comfort him, so he reaches out, tugging at his sleeve. “RaRa?” He gets no response, so he tugs again, this time a tad bit harder. “RaRa, wake up.”

The older angel in the bed snorts softly as he wakes, his soul grace twin waking beside him, and the blonde man looks over his shoulder, squinting slightly. “Chayy?”

Chayyliel nods, hugging his stuffed lizard tightly. “RaRa, can I sleep with you guys?”

They stare at each other for a solid minutes, and he’s scared he’ll say no, but he smiles at him, and reaches out. “Sure, you can, Chayy.” The young Returned smiles, climbing up over his side, Sablo scoots over slightly to give him room between them. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He nods mutely, pressing his stuffed lizard under his nose, and ducks down, he feels safe, tucked between his two older brother. He feels Rahatiel kiss the back of his head. “Well, it’s okay, we’ll protect you from the bad dreams.” The blankets are pulled up over him, and the two older angels scoot closer, an arm curls around him from behind, and one from the front, and he smiles, sighing softly. “You get a good nights rest, we’ll keep you safe.”

“It was so scary, RaRa.” Chayyliel mumbles into his stuffed lizards head. “All I could hear was Her laughing and then there was darkness, I was staring at the fire in my fireplace and it started fading, and it was so scary, I thought She was taking me again.”

Rahatiel sighs softly, squeezing him close for a moment, and Sablo massages his side softly. “How long have you been laying awake and staring at the fire?”

He licks his lips. “Two days.”

“That’s why everything was fading out. You’re exhausted, you were falling asleep, She wasn’t taking you again.”

Chayyliel pulls his stuffed lizard down slightly. “Then, how come I heard her?”

“Well, from the sound of it, you were scared because of the darkness creeping in, so your mind might have automatically supplied that She was taking you, and you heard a memory of Her laughing, but it wasn’t the real thing.” The oldest in the room squeezes him close again. “I want you to sleep in here with us until Abe gets back, okay?”

“Okay, RaRa.” He falls silently for a moment, staring into Sablo’s inquisitive eyes, curious and concerned as to why he’s fallen silent. “I’m sorry for being broken and a burden.”

“You’re not broken, Chayy, and you’re the farthest thing from being a burden.” Raha kisses the back of his neck lightly. “I still have bad dreams of me dying and I go sleep with Abe because I get scared, does that make me a broken burden?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You’re big and strong.”

“Chayy, you’re one of the strongest people I know.” He turns over to look at him. “Really, I mean it, you are.”

Chayyliel licks his lips. “How?”

“Because, though it was scary when I died, I was at peace.” Rahatiel smiles at him lightly. “But you, it was like you were buried alive, living, but with absolutely no one to help you dig yourself out of your metaphorical grave, and yet, here you are, still just the same as you were before you were taken, a tad different, but still quiet and mischievous, playful and cuddly, you’re still yourself, even after going through all that time in isolation.” He kisses him on the nose. “I most certainly wouldn’t have come out of that prison the same as I was when I went in.”

“You mean it?”

“I’d never lie to you, baby brother, of course I mean it.” He squeezes him close again. “Now, what you need is a good sleep. You’ll stay here with us to make sure you get as much sleep as you need. And, if you don’t, we’ll take you to see Raph, so _he_ can help you sleep.”

…

“So, what brings you three to see little ole me?” The Archangel leans back in his chair, looking between the three of them, the two Powers, and their little Returned. Chayyliel looks away, hugging his stuffed lizard close to his chest, so he turns his attention to the two Powers beside him. “What seems to be the problem that brought you to seek me out?”

Rahatiel rubs his baby brother’s back soothingly. “Chayy can’t sleep.”

Raphael hums softly, looking the little Returned over critically, he can see that just fine for himself. “Can’t or won’t?”

Sablo licks his lips lightly. “Won’t. He refuses to.”

The Healer nods lightly. “Why is that?”

The older Power sighs softly. “He says when he closes his eyes he hears Her laughing, and then Her darkness starts creeping in, it terrifies him, so he’s been refusing to sleep. We brought him in to sleep with us, and he pretends to fall asleep, but he stares at the fire all night.”

“I see,” the Archangel nods. “Well, I can tell you the darkness creeping in, little Chayy, is from being mentally and physically exhausted, that’s your mind shutting down because it needs sleep.” He turns back to the two Powers. “Where does he feel safest?”

The oldest out of the three of them rubs his baby brother’s back again. “In Abe’s room.”

“Alright,” Raphael nods again. “Who makes him feel safest.”

“Abe.”

“Alright,” the Healer nods once more. “Might I suggest dressing him in one of his shirts and sleeping in his bed, it’ll smell like him, it should automatically make his mind assume he’s there to protect him. If he’s hearing Her laughter, I’d suggest playing some music, soothing tones, soft, nothing too exciting, I’m sure Abe has a few records lying around, I believe he used to record himself and Nisroc playing together, might I suggest one of those, they should be labelled.” He turns for the cart at his side, and pulls the second drawer open, sifting through a load of vials, reading a few labels, before finding the one he’s looking for, and turns back, holding it out to the oldest Power with them. “Here, he _needs_ to sleep, he’s on the verge of collapsing, his mind is on the verge of shutting down, take him home, get him dressed in one of Abe’s shirts, tuck him into Abe’s bed, and have him drink that, it’ll put him to sleep.” He smiles at the young Returned. “If none of that works, bring him back, and I’ll keep him here until Abe returns.”

…

The last thing Abraxos was expecting when he returned, desiring nothing more then to collapse in his bed and sleep for the rest of the month, was to find his bed already in use.

He stands in the doorway of his room for a long minute, watching the three of them sleep soundly together, Chayy in the middle, Sablo and Raha curled around him. The second oldest Power smiles lightly, shaking his head fondly, and steps into his room, closing his door behind him, as to not let any more warmth out. He crosses over the threshold of his room and sets his bag on his desk, leans over to untie his boots, kicks them off, removes his belt, stokes the fire, and climbs in behind Sablo, wrapping his arm around his waist.

The youngest Power moves under his arm, and he smiles at him when he looks at him from over his shoulder. “Hey, Sab.”

Sablo smiles at him. “Hey, Abe.”

Abraxos smiles at him in return. “Is Chayy alright, Raph said he was having trouble sleeping.”

His young mentee nods slightly. “Yea, he’s slept nonstop for the last day and a half, Raha went to see Raph when he wasn’t waking up, and he said it was normal.”

“It is.” The older Power leans in to press a light kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for staying with him.”

“He’s our baby brother, Abe, of course we wouldn’t leave him.”

He smiles at him, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “You guys are great big brothers.”

“We learned from Puri, of course we are.”


	271. In Need Of Reprimanding (Thaddeus & Zaphiel)

Being sent here for punishment is a new one for him, Nisroc had been furious at his unnecessary attack on his sparring partner, and he’d refused to explain himself when he was asked for his reasoning, and Nisroc had fallen silent for a long moment, staring at him, before barking at the guards in his office to bring him here.

He’d been dragged down here, his tunic tugged up over his head, arms strapped up above his head, and his boots tugged off and his ankles strapped down securely, his boots set down on the table at his feet, next to his folded tunic, and left him lying there all on his lonesome.

It’s been a good five minutes, maybe ten, that he’s laid here, listening to the fire crackle.

The there’s a noise, the lock in the door thumps open, and the thick metal door creaks softly as it’s pushed open, he watches _him_ step in, reading a message in his hand, undoubtedly from Nisroc, and he pushes the door closed behind him as he hums, reading on, it’s a long message, he’s had a few incidents, but Nisroc had dealt with those already, with his belt, so he’s sure he hasn’t included _those_ in his report.

“Wow,” Thaddeus looks up from the report in his hand, letting his hand fall, and shakes his head. “Somebodies a misbehaving little angel, aren’t they?”

“I’m not a _‘little angel’_! I’m nearly grown, just two more years!”

The Warden chuckles softly. “Zaphiel, I’m one of the oldest, one of the first, to me, you’ll be a little angel for a long while, no matter how old you get.” The warrior in training glares at him, and the older angel wags a finger at him, tsking softly. “No sir, glaring only makes it worse, maybe if you were a good little angel, you wouldn’t need to be punished, so don’t be mad at me, if anything, your being here is your own fault.” He raises his hand again, tapping the report with a finger. “You’re really irritated Nisroc, he says to do whatever I please, no mercy, and I have two hours, five five minute breaks throughout. He’s _really_ infuriated.” He folds the paper up and tucks it in his pocket. “Let’s see what I’m working with.”

Zaphiel swallows thickly. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m going to torture you, duh.” Thaddeus smiles at him. “That’s what I do. Torture people. I’m a torturer. A good round of torture usually does the trick, but sometimes the bad little angels come back again, and I never mind, more fun for me.”

He swallows thickly again. “You’re going to torture me?”

“Um, yea, I thought I already told you that.” The Warden cracks his fingers lightly. “Let’s see what we’re working with here.”

The warrior in training watches him reach up and poke a finger into his armpit, he’s not quite sure what’s going on, when he said torture, he expects it to be painful, but he giggles, shrieking softly, when that finger wiggles in, tugging on his arm instinctively. “Wahahahait! Whaahahahat!”

“I told you, I’m seeing what I’m working with.” Thaddeus nods. “Definitely a good armpit.” He moves down and pokes a finger into his side, poking around randomly, and he shrieks again, arching away from the poking finger. “Oh, the side is nice, that’ll do just nicely.” He reaches up, poking around his belly, just as he had with his side, and he shrieks again, shimmying from side to side. “Oh, the tummy is nice too, very nice.” He reaches up and pokes a finger into his belly button, wiggling around playfully, and Zaphiel squeals lightly, sucking in his belly. “Oh, the belly button for sure.” He continues making his way down and pokes a finger into his inner thigh, he shrieks, clenching his legs together. “No, no, no, mister, you open those legs.” Zaphiel shakes his head frantically. “You open those legs or you’re going to regret it.” Zaphiel shakes his head again, not for the life of him, is he going to open his legs, he’s starting to figure this out, starting to realize what’s going on, what his brand of torture is going to be. “I’ll give you one more chance, before you come to regret not listening to me, open your legs.”

He shakes his head again, and the Warden sighs, but nods, and turns back to his legs, pulling the one nearest him out slightly, and reaches in, digging his fingers into the crease of his leg, and he screams, kicking his leg wildly.

“EEEIAIAEIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA ANOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEEEAIEAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA STOHOHOHHOHOHOOP STOHOHOHOHHOOHOOHOOHOP! EEIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERREEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHERREEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE EEEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AEEIEIEIEIAEIAAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO EEIAIIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! EIEIAIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEEHEEHHEHEHEHEHEEERE! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE! EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA NOHHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!”

“Guess you should have opened your legs like you were told to.” He pauses for a moment. “From reading your report, you seem to have trouble doing as you’re told, by the time I’m done with you, you’re going to break down into a fit of giggles if you even _think_ about not doing as you’re told.” And digs back in.

“EEEIEIEIEEEIEIEEIIAAIEAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHHAHAHAHAGAAHAHAHAHAHAAIN! NOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHHAHHAHHAAHHAAGAIN! EEIEIEIAIAIEAIAIAAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEHEEEASE NOHOHOHOHOT MYHYHYHYHY THIHIHIHIHIHIGH! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA EIEIEIIEAIAEIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHEHEEEAEAAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEE THIHIHIHIHIHIHIIGH! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEEERREEEIEIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEERE! EEIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAA! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHHOREEIEIEAIEAIAIAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE! EIEIEAIAIAHAAHAHHAHHAAHHAHHAAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAA IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAND IHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! EEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL LIHIHIHIHIHISTEEHEHEHEHEEN! IIHHIHIHIHIHIHI WIHIHIHIHIHILLL!”

“You will, huh?” Thaddeus pulls his leg out just a tad more and spiders his fingers up and down his inner thigh. “You can bet you will. I’ll be _sure_ of it.”

“NOHHHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHHAHHAAGAIN! EEIEIEIIEAIIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA EEIIEAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH EEIEAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOT MYHHYHYHYHYHYY THIHIHIHIHIGH! NOHOHOHOHOHOT MYHYHYHYHY THIIHIHIHIHIHIGH! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE! EEIEIEIAIAEIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAEHHEAEAHEAAEAEIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! EEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAA AEEIEIIEAIAIAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAAHA STOHOHOHOHOOP STOOHOHOHOHOHOP STOHOHOHOHHOOP! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHHEAASE PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE! EIEIAEIAIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHI’LL DOHOHOHOO BEHEHEHEHETTER! IHIHIHIHIHI SWEHEHEHEHHEAR! AEEEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAA AAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHEHEEAEAHEAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI SWEHEHEHEHHEAR! IHIHIHI DOHOHOHOHO!”

“Oh, you swear, do you?” He pinches up and down the naughty little trainee’s inner thigh. “You’ve suddenly decided you’ll do better, have you?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHHEES! IHHIHIHIHIHIIIHI DOHOHOHOHOO! EEIIEIAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AHAAAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE NOHHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE EIEIEIAIAEAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAAH AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAEEIEIIEAIAEAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE THIHIHIHIHIHIGH! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEEEASE NOHHOHOHOHOT THEEHEHEHEHEHE THIHIHIHIHIGH! AAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAA AEEIEIEIAIAEAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAA IHHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOORRY! EIEIEAIIAEIAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M SOOHOHOHOHOHORRY FOOHOHOHOHOHOR NOHOHOHOT LIHIHIHIHIISTEHEHEHEENING! EEIIEAIEAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHIHI’LL LIHIHIHIHIHIHISTEN! IHHIHIHIHIHIHI WIHHIHIHIHIILLL! IHIHIHIHIHIHI WIHIHIHILL!”

“Oh, you’ll listen now?” Thaddeus pauses his attack on the poor youth’s thigh and turns to look at him. “So, when I come back to these thighs, because I _am_ coming back, you’ll open your legs, because I know you’re going to squeeze them closed, you’ll open your legs when I tell you to?”

Zaphiel giggles wildly and nods.

“Good boy, lets continue on with our investigation.” He lets go of his thigh and continues on, scratching at his sole lightly, humming when he gets little response, and tests his toes, pinching them lightly, and nods at the lack of response to those. “Alright, I know what I’m working with, let’s get to work.”

The offender watches him as he crosses around the side of the table, and comes to stop at the middle, looking between his armpits and thighs. “Which one do I want to start with, the armpits, or the thighs. Let’s flip a coin.” He digs into his pocket for a moment for a coin and withdraws a quarter. “Heads for armpits, tails for thighs, call it.”

Zaphiel giggles, Thaddeus was nothing like he’d expected, from the stories of the ones who were sent to him for punishment, he expected him to be mean and nasty and harmful and take joy in watching someone suffer horrible agony, but he wasn’t like that, he was nice, somewhat brutal, his thigh still tingles from his attack, but he was nice, and he was playful, and it alleviates his fears.

“Heads.”

The Warden nods, tossing the coin up, watching it as it rises, and watching it as it falls, catching it in his right hand, and smacks his right hand onto the back of his left. “Well, it’s your lucky day, you naughty little trainee, it’s time for some armpit torture.”

He giggles as he stuffs the quarter back into his pocket, crossing slowly around the edge of the table, leaning against the edge of the table above his head, and smiles down at him. “Are you ready?” He giggles harder and the older angel smiles. “It sounds like you’re ready, you’re already a giggling mess.” Thaddeus cracks his fingers and poises them over his armpits. “Let’s get started.”


	272. Chayyliel's Second Initiation (Rahatiel, Sablo, & Chayyliel)

Chayyliel looks between the two of them frantically, they smile at him, the same smile Abe has before he destroys you, and it’s alarming at just how similar their smiles are to his. Rahatiel wiggles a finger into his side lightly, and he bites his lip, arching to the side, and Sablo wiggles his own finger in his other side and he scoots away, shimmying from side to side as giggles build up in his belly.

“Guess what time it is, baby brother?” Rahatiel smiles when the young Returned bites his lip to keep the building giggles inside. “Guess what time it is.”

He shakes his head, the struggles to hold onto his giggling is growing increasingly difficult, and a smile slowly spreads over his features, he knows what happens when he says it, he’s known Puri and Abe long enough to know what happens when he says it.

“Say it, baby brother.” Chayyliel shakes his head again, he’s not going to say it, not for the life of him. “Say it. Say it, it’s going to happen either way, but, if you don’t say it, I’ll never stop.”

The younger angel’s eyes widen at the threat. “It’s tickle time!”

“Darn right, it is!” Rahatiel claws his fingers into the side of his belly and Sablo follows suit, he squeals with laughter, arching his back sharply. “You’re darn right.”

“EEIEIEIAIAEAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AEEEIIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAAHHAHA RAHAHAHHAHAHAHAATIEHHEHEHEEL NOHOHOHOHOHO! SAHAHAHAHHAABLOOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHO! AAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAEEIIEIEAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA EIEIIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEAEEAEAEAAAAEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAHHAT! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOSE! EIEIEIAEIEAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAA EEEIIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHHEE CLAHAHHAHAAHHHAHAHAHAWS! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHHEHEHEHAHEAEEAIAAIAIAAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! EIEIEAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAAA RAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAATIEL! PLEHEHEHEHEHEEEASE!”

“No, no, I remember you calling me something else, for the little amount of time we were together.” The older Power wiggles a finger in his armpit. “You weren’t also so standoffish towards me, if I remember correctly, we’d been rather close, I called you _‘ChayyChayy’,_ and you called me, what was it you called me, I can’t remember, do you remember what it was, what was it you used to call me?” Chayyliel shrieks with giggles at the finger wiggling in his armpit, trying to roll up onto his side, and he’d have succeeded if they weren’t holding him down with their combined grace. “What was it ChayyChayy, what did you call me?”

“Aahahahhahaha RahahahaRahahahaa! RaRa! Eeheehehehheehhehehe! RahahahRahahaha nohohohoho! Pleheheheheease! Eeehehehehhehehehee nohhohoot theheheheere! RaRa! Pleheheheheease eehehehhehehehehe nohohohot thehehe ahahahahaharmpihihhihiit! RahahahhaRahahahaha plehehehhheease! Nohohohot theheheheehere!”

“Not your little armpit, ChayyChayy?” He continues to wiggle his finger in, smiling at the bright shrieky giggles it produces. “Is it because your little armpits are ticklish?” He nods to his little brother, and Sablo smiles, reaching up to wiggle his finger in the younger angels other armpit, and Chayyliel shrieks again, shaking his head from side to side. “Remember when me and Puri would team up against you?” Chayyliel squeals brightly at the mere reminder. “Oh, you _do_ , we’d have you screaming in no time, remember that?” He pauses his light attack on his armpit. “I’m going to make you scream again.”

Rahatiel claws his fingers back in the side of his belly, Sablo follows his lead when he nods at him, looking to him for his cues, and the younger angel squeals with laughter, shaking his head wildly from side to side, arching his back under the attack he’s facing.

“EEEIEIAIAIAIEAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHHAHAHAHAAAHAAA RAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAARRRAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAA NOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHO AAAAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA AAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAEEEEAEEAEIEEIAIEEIAAIAAAAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOSE NOHOHOHOHOOT THOHOHOHOSE! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAAWS! EEIEIAIAIAAAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAA EIEIEAIEAIEIAAHAAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAA NOHOHHOOHOOHOOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAAWS! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAWS! EEIEIIEAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA! RRAHAHAHAHAHAHHAARRRAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOOOHOHOHO IIEEIEIEIIEAIAIIAAHAHAHHHAHAAHAHHAAHHAHHAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAAA AAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHHAHAAA HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA RAHAHAHAHHAHAARRAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA PLEEHEHEHHEHEHEHEASE!”

“What about this belly button?” The oldest Power among them pokes a finger into his belly button, and he inhales deeply, biting his lip as he shakes his head frantically. “Oh, that response gives me all the answer I need.” He wiggles his finger lightly, and the young Elect, forever an Elect, soon to be a guard once more, Abe and Tus were working it out, they hadn’t said anything to Chayyliel about it, because they still had to talk to Thaddeus about it, to see if he’d be open for taking him back, there was little doubt that he wouldn’t, but they didn’t want to get his hopes up and Thaddeus say no, that he did not want to take him back. “This little belly button is still a bad spot.”

Chayyliel squeals again, shimmying from side to side, sucking in his belly, trying to get away from that wiggling finger. “Eeieieiaiaeaeiaaahahhahahahahahahhaahaha aahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahaa ahahahahahhahahahahhahahahahhahahahaaa nohohohoot theheheheheheheere nohohohohot thehehehehehere! Eeiieaiaiaahahahahahahahahahahaha ahahahahahahahhahaha aaahahahhahahahahhahahaha aahahahahhahahahahhaaa ahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahaa nohhohohohot thehehehehe buhuhuhuutton! Nohohohohot thehehehehe buhuhuhutton! Eeieieiaiaiaahahahahahhahahahahaa geheheheheheet ohohohohoout! Gehehehehhet ihihihihihit ohohohohout! Eeeieiaieaeaiaaahahahhahahahaahaahaahaaa ahahhahahahahhahahahahahahahaa aahahahahahahahahahahhahahahhahahahaaa aaahahahahahahhahahahahahaa eeheehhahahahahahahahahahahahahhahaha geehehehehhehehet oohohohohoohout! Geheheheheeet ohhohohohohout ohohohohohof thehehehehehere! RahahahahahaaaRRaahahahahahhaaa gehehehehehet ohohohohout ohohohohoff thehehehehere!”

“Why?” Rahatiel smiles at him, wiggling his finger around, listening to his bright squeals. “This belly button is fun.”

“Geheheheheheheet ohhohohohohout! Gehehehehehhet ohhohoohohohohoout ohohohohohof thehehehehere! Gehehehehehehet ohohohohout! Aaahahahahahahahahahahahaahhahaha aaahahahahahahahhahahahahaha ahahahahahhahahahahahhaahaa ehehehahahehheahhehaaaahahahahhahaaahahhahahahaa Eeieieiaiaiaahahahhahahahahahahaha aahahahahahahhahahahaha aaahahahhahahahhahahahahahhaa gehehehehehehet ohohohohohout ohohohohof thheehehehehehheere!”

He has mercy and pulls his finger out of his baby brother’s belly button, letting him calm down a bit before carrying on the mostly one sided conversation, and begins poking him in the side to keep him giggling a steady stream of giggles. “Is it okay if Sab calls you ChayyChayy too?”

Chayyliel looks over at Sablo for a moment, the youngest Power smiles at him, but doesn’t make any moves to encourage him, leaving that decision open to his determination, and then he turns to the older Power, giggling softly at the fingers poking at his side. “Ihihihihis ihihihit stihihihill ohohohohours?”

“ChayyChayy, that nickname will _always_ be ours, even if someone else calls you it too, it will _always_ be ours first.”

The youngest Elect turns back to the younger Power. “Ohohohokay, yohohou cahahahan cahahahall mehehehehe thahahat.”

Sablo smiles, he looks so happy, his entire face brightens at the permission he gives that’s clearly something special to him. “Thank you, baby brother, you can call me Saby.”

Chayyliel smiles at him. “Ohohokay Sahahaby!”

“I’m so happy.” Rahatiel smiles at them, wiggling a finger in the slight chub on his baby brother’s side, and Chayyliel shrieks softly, arching away from him, until Sablo follows his lead, and starts wiggling a finger in the slight chub on the other side, and he shrieks again, squirming from side to side, trying to get away from those mean fingers, but no matter which way he shimmy’s, there’s a finger there wiggling to get him. “My two baby brothers getting along like this.” He nods his head up at his younger brother. “Sab, let’s get his thighs.”

“NO! NO! RARA NO!”

Sablo nods, smiling at their younger brother’s struggles to get away, they’re desperate struggles, he starts giggling wildly when they pull his legs open slightly, and squeals when they start spidering their fingers up and down his inner thighs.

“EEEEEIEIAIAEIAEIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA AAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIAIEAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAEAEAAEAEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHHOHOHOT THEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE! EIEIEAIIAEAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA RAHAHAHAHAHAHARRRRAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA SAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAABBBYYY STOHOHOHOHOHOHOOP NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEEHEHHEEHERE! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEEEASE NOHHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEE THIHIHIHIGHS! EEIIEAIAEIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT EIEIEIEIAIAEIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAH AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAAHAAAA AAHAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIHIIT STOHOHOHOHOHOHOOP IHIHIHIHIHIHIT STOOHOHOHOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIHIHIT!”

“Sab,” the youngest Power looks up at him at his call. “Get the crease.”

“AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAEHHEAHEAHEHAEHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEREEIEIEIIEAIEAIAEAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA THEHEHEHEHEHEHEERE’S REHEHEHEHEHHEAHAHAALLY BAHAHAHHAHAHAD! THEEHHEEHHEHEHEERE’S REHEHEHEHEHEHHAHHEAHAAALLY BAHAHAHAHHAHAAD! NNOHOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHHAHAHAHAHAT SPOHOHOHOHOHOT EIEIEIEAIEAIEAIAEAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA EIEIIEAEAEAEAEAAAAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHEEEHHEAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA GEEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHHOHOHOUT! GEEHEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHOHOHOUT! EEIEIAIAEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAHHAHAA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAHAAT SPOHOHOHOHOHOHOT NOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAAAHAAHAHAAT SPOHOHOHOHOHOT!”

“Okay, okay, let’s give him a moment.” They both pull back, smiling at the mess they’ve created. “I missed this.”

Chayyliel giggles, looking between the two of them. “Pleheheheease! Nohohohoo mohohohore! Nohohoho mohhohohore! Pleheheease bihihiig brohohohothers! Nohohoho mohohohore!”

They both smile at him.

Sablo looks up to his older brother. “Do you think he’s had enough, Raha?”

Rahatiel nod. “I guess he’s had enough.” They release him from their grace, and the youngest Elect curls up, wrapping his arms around his belly, giggling lightly under his breath. The two Powers rise, stretching slightly, and climb into the bed at his sides, and uncurl him, pulling him up to lay between them. Sablo scratches behind his ear, because he knows he likes it, Raha had told him so, and Rahatiel rubs his tummy. “You passed your initiation.”

Their baby brother breathes out a breath of giggles as he slowly calms down. “Thank Gohohod.”


	273. Way Down We Go (Chayyliel & Rahatiel)

Chayyliel yelps when he’s tugged into a room, as he was walking down the hall to his own, and looks around as a door closes behind him, staring up at his older brother as he turns to face him.

“ChayyChayy, why are you avoiding me Rahatiel steps closer, he takes a step back, and the Power stops at his retreat. “You’re being standoffish, why are you being standoffish, we were so close before you were taken.” He’d died after the young Elect had been taken.

The younger angel crosses his arms. “I’m not avoiding you.” He shakes his head. “I’m not being standoffish, I’m just busy.”

“With _what,_ what _can_ you do?” He immediately regrets the way he asks that when the younger angel’s eyes well up with tears. “I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t!”

“You wouldn’t have said it like _that_ if you didn’t _mean_ it like that!” Chayyliel shoves him back angrily. “Not all of us were _lucky_ enough to _die_ and be reborn and somehow manage to stay as we were!” He shoves him again and Rahatiel raises his hands defensively, he hadn’t meant for this to happen, it came out wrong, he’d just wanted to know why he was avoiding him. “You try spending thousands of years locked in nothing but darkness, nothing but cold freezing darkness and your only companion being the cruel laughter of your keeper, you try living like that and coming out the same way you went in!” He shoves him back again, despite his raised hands, and the Power’s back hits the wall. “So, _excuse me_ if the things I’m _able_ to do is _limited_ , _excuse me_ if I don’t want to be _alone_ , _excuse me_ if I can’t stay in _small dark places_ , _excuse me_ if I’m _not_ the one you _remember_!” He swipes the tears off his face. “ _This_ is what you’ve got to work with, if it’s not _good enough_ for you, then you _don’t_ have to deal with it!”

The young Elect turns away from him, tears the door open, and storms out, cutting off the two older Powers making their way down the hall.

Puriel and Abraxos watch the young Returned Elect storm into his room and slam the door closed, and turn to the look at the younger Power as he appears in the door way of his shared room, rubbing at the back of his head. “I could have handled that better.”

His mentor hums. “Handled _what_ better?”

“I just wanted to know why he was avoiding me and being so standoffish, he said he was busy,” Rahatiel swipes a hand over his face. “And, I asked him what was he able to do.”

“Rahatiel, why would you ask him something like that?”

His mentor sounds irritated with that and he winces lightly at his verbal ire. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Puriel tilts his head slightly. “Then, why’d you phrase it like that?”

“I don’t know, it just…it just slipped out like that.”

They look down the hall to the small Elects room when something shatters, and Abraxos sighs deeply, when something slams against the door, his youngest Elect is angry. “Well, you’d better fix it, if you thought his angered temper tantrums were bad _before_ he was taken, then you _don’t_ want to see what they’re like now.”

Rahatiel rubs at his forehead. “ _How_ do I fix this?”

The medic smiles at him. “Tickles and cuddles. After being locked in that consuming darkness for so long, he’s touch-starved, and likes physical affection.”

Abraxos nods in agreement. “And, be sure to apologize for what you said, much has changed in regards to him, but his ability to hold a grudge has _not_. Just go in, he won’t answer if you ask to come in.”

“Noted,” the younger Power turns down the hall. “Thanks guys.”

“It’s what we’re here for kiddo.”

Rahatiel makes his way down the hall, listening to another door close, whoever’s room they went into, they both went in, he pauses slightly at the muffled squeal that echoes down the hall, and shakes his head, smiling in amusement. Puri and his tickles. He can’t blame him, Abe gives the best tickles, they all enjoy when he comes hunting them down.

He pushes the door open, and peeks in cautiously, things had been being thrown around and he’s cautious in the event that he’s walking into a war zone, but nothing comes flying at him, and he steps into the room, closing the door behind him softly.

“Go away, Abe.” Chayyliel is laying on his bed, his back facing the door, and his heart aches when he hears the tears in his voice, he’d put them there with his careless words. “Leave me alone.”

“It’s not Abe.” He steps forward, Chayyliel sniffles softly, and flicks him off from over his shoulder.

“Get out of my fucking room.”

“Better not let papa hear you talking like that, he’d wash your mouth out with soap.” The Power sits on the edge of the bed and turns, laying down beside him. “And, you don’t want that, it’s gross.”

“Leave me alone.” Chayyliel squirms at the arm that curls around his waist and he’s pulled back against his older brother. “Leave me alone, jerk.”

“ChayyChayy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it the way I said it.”

The young Elect sniffles again and rubs at his nose with the back of his right hand. “Then, why’d you say it like that?”

“Because I’m dumb and don’t have a brain to mouth filter.” He smiles when his baby brother giggles softly. “I’m a big dumb dumby.”

Chayyliel giggles again. “You’re the biggest dumb dumby.”

“I am.” Rahatiel kisses the back of his neck. “The biggest hugest dumb dumby. I don’t know how you put up with me being so dumb.”

“Very carefully. Small sentences. Stuff like that.”

“I thank you,” the Power kisses his neck again. “For taking the time to deal with my big dumb dumby self.”

“I can’t leave you behind, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“You’re so kind.”

Chayyliel giggles again. “I’m the kindest.”

“Yes, you are. You’re one of my favorites”

The youngest Elect sighs softly. “Who’s your most favorite?”

“My most favorite?” The Power takes a moment. “Sablo and you are tied.”

“I come first, because my name starts with a _C_ and his name starts with an _S_.”

“Well, if it’s sorted alphabetically, then yes, you most certainly come first.”

Chayyliel smiles. “It is.”

“Then, you come first.” He kisses the back of his neck again. “Why are you avoiding me and being so standoffish?”

“Because…..Because I don’t want to get in the way of you and Sablo. You have him now. You don’t need me.”

Rahatiel hums softly. “Where did you come up with that craziness?”

“It is _not_ craziness, it’s true!”

“Yea, true _craziness_.” He presses another kiss to the back of his neck. “I need you just as much as I need Sab, he may be my other half, but you’re still my baby brother, ChayyChayy, that’ll never change, I most certainly need you in my life, I’d go crazy without you.”

There’s a brief period of silence. “Mean it?”

“I swear, cross my heart.” He presses another kiss to the back of his neck. “I need my little ChayyChayy in my life.” He kisses around the side of his neck, the younger angel giggling as he gently tugs him around, pulling him around to lay on his back, and kisses down his chest, down over his belly, lifts the bottom of his tunic, and pokes his head up underneath, kissing up over his belly. “I’m lost without my little ChayyChayy, will you come back to me, little ChayyChayy, I need you.”

Chayyliel giggles wildly, bracing his hands against the head under his tunic. “Yehehes!”

“Good.” He takes a deep breath and blows a long hard berry over his belly button. “I get to do this more now.” And, blows another.

The youngest Elect squeals with laughter, arching his back, pushing at his older brother’s head, but it doesn’t stop the attack in the slightest.


	274. I'm Gonna Get You (Moriah & Zander)

“I’m gonna get you!” Zander giggles as he backs away from his guardian and his wiggling threatening fingers. “I’m gonna get you, little Zan.” He steps back another step as his guardian advances slowly. “I’m going to give you the most tickly tickle torture you’ve ever had.” Zander giggles harder, curling his arms around himself lightly, shaking his head slightly. “Oh yes, it’s going to happen, I’ve been waiting all week for today.”

The youngling shrieks when he takes another step forward, and turns, bolting down the hall for the safety of his room, and Moriah laughs, chasing after him, catching him around the waist rather easily, Zander laughs brightly as he kicks out, tugging on his guardian’s arms, wrapped around his waist securely. “Ahahahabbaa! Nohohoho! Nohohoot tihihickle tohhohorture! Nohohot thahahahat!”

“Oh, yes,” the healer turns into his own room, away from the safety of the youngers, carrying him over to the bed. “The most tickly tickle torture.” Zander shrieks as he’s tossed onto the bed, and Moriah laughs softly, crawling up over the foot of the bed, catching the youth by the ankles as he tries to make his escape. “Come back here, you little sneak, where do you think you’re going?” He tugs him back down and reaches for his tunic. “Let’s get this little thing off.” He tugs it up over his head despite the boy’s struggles to keep it on and tosses it aside, as he curls his fingers around his small hands and lifts his arms above his head, pressing them gently in the pillow, restraining them there with his grace. “I need these little armpits open for me, so I can give them a mighty good tickle, they look like they need it.” The healer settles himself down, hovering over his left armpit, and smiles lightly, poking a finger in. “This poor little armpit needs a mighty good tickle.” He wiggles his finger lightly, and the giggles come pouring from the fledgling, a young cheek pressing to his arm. “Did you wash this little armpit in your bath tonight?”

“Nohohoho!” Zander knows what will happen if he says yes. “Ihihihi dihihihiidn’t! Ihihihihit’s ahahahahall yuhuhuhucky! Ahahahahall smehehehheelly!”

“It’s yucky and smelly?” He chuckles softly, wiggling his finger just a tad fast, and the youngling shrieks, kicking his legs under him. “If you didn’t wash under here in your bath, then we should wash under here now, should I go get the scrub brush?” He flutters his fingers over the armpit and the youth squeals brightly. “We can’t have yucky stinky armpits.”

“Nohohoo! Nohohoo scruhuhuub bruhuhuhush! Ihihihii cleheheheaned thehehehem! I dihihihihid!”

“You sure?”

Zander shrieks again. “Yehehehes! Yehehes! Ihihihi’m suhuhuhure!”

“Good.” He rushes down, burying his face into his armpit, and blows a large berry.

The youngling squeals brightly. “EEIEIEIAIAEIIIAIAAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHEEIEIEAIIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAEEEEAAEAAEAEAEAEAEAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO AHAHAHHAABABBAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHHAAHAHHAHEHEHEAHEAHAHEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAAHAHHA NOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHHAHAHAT NOHOHOHOHOT BEHEHEHEHEHERRIES! EEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHEHEHEHAHEAHEAAHAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHHEERE! NOHOHOHOHOT BEHEHEHEHHEHERRIES THEHEHEHEHERE! EEIEIIEAIIAAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHEHEHEAHAAHAEHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHA AHAHAHHAHAAABAAABABBBAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHHAHARMPIHIHIHIT BEHEHEHEHHERRIES! NOHOHOHOOT AHAHAHHAARMPIHIHIHIHIT BEHEHEHEHEHEERRIES! EEIIEAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHA EIEIEIAIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHA AEEIIEAIAIAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHHAHAA EEEIIEAIIAIAIAIAAIAAIAIAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAEEEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHA EIEIIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA EIEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOOT THHOHOHOHOSEEIEIAIAEAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH KIHIHIHIIND! EIEIEIAIIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA EEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH EIEIIEAAIAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA EEIIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA EIEIIAEIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA NOHOHOHOHOT THHOHOHOHOOSEEEEIEIEIIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEEIEIIEAIAIAIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHA RAHAHAHHAHAHAAPIEIEIIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEIEIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEE RAHAHAHAHAPID BEHEHEHEHAHHHAEHAHAAHHAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAH BEHEHEHEHERRRIEEEEEIEIEIAIAEIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHHA BEHEHEHEHHEERRIES! EIEIEAIIAAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AEEIEIAIAIAIAIAIAAIAAAAHAHAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAE EIEIAIEAIEIAEIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAA AEIEIIEAIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHHAHAHAHAHAHABBAABABAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAH AHAHHAHAHAHAABABABABBAAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOOOHO EEIEIAIAIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHEEHHEAHAHHEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AEIEIIEAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!”

Moriah chuckles, lifting away from the little one’s armpit, and wiggles his index fingers in, the squeals fading into shrieky giggles, and kicks his legs wildly. “You _did_ wash under here.” He scratches at his hollow lightly. “It smells like strawberries, did you use my favorite soap?”

“Eeehehehhehehehhehehe ihihihihit smehehehehells goohohohohood!”

“That it does, that’s why it’s my favorite.” He returns to wiggling his index fingers in again. “I’ll have to get more if you want to use it too.” The healer smiles up at him. “I’m going to move down on the right, and then make my way up on the left, saving the tummy for last.” Moriah scoots down. “Let’s see these ribs.” He scratches a finger over his highest rib and more shrieky giggles. “Let’s see what we have here.” He eyes the right side of his rib cage. “Let’s give them a taste.” And leans in, nibbling on the boy’s ribs, Zander squeals again, drumming his legs into the bed, trying to squirm again from him, and he chuckles, pushing him back in place, nibbling back in.

“EEIEIAIIIAIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! EIEIEAIIAEIAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHAHAHAHAAAEEEAIAIEAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT NIHIHIHIHIHIBBLES! NOHOHOHOHOT NIHIHIHIHIBBLES! EIEIEIAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA EIEIEAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA EIEIEIIIEIAAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAABABABBABBAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOT NIHIHIHIHIHIIBBLES! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAA EIEIEAIAIAIAIAAAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAA AAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHHAHHAAAA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHEHEHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”

The healer smiles into his ribs and presses a small kiss to the sensitive skin. “I love you, my little one, very much.” He decides they’ll come back to the most tickly tickle torture a bit later, especially when he hears the little angel’s tummy rumble, signifying that it wanted something to fill it, and he sits up, letting go of his arms, and smiles down at him as he hovers over him. “Thank you, for giving me a chance, I know you wanted to stay with Thaddy, you fill my heart with such joy each and every day, so thank you, little one, for giving me a chance.”

Zander smiles up at him, jumping up, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly. “I love you, Mori, I’m happy I did, you’re my favorite!”


	275. What Should Have Been (Thaddeus & The Prison Fam)

“Saba, you have to do something!” Ion tugs his older brother around when he doesn’t so much as look at him, he knows he’s listening, but this is a serious matter, this takes priority over everything else, his little brother couldn’t take much more, he was on the cusp of shattering, he was a desperate man, and desperate men were dangerous men, when he’d said Naomi had promised to make the abuse stop if he brought Thaddeus to her, he knew it was a rather dangerous situation, nothing that witch did was for the betterment of anyone but herself, she wasn’t helping him, she was using his vulnerability against him. “He’s on the verge of breaking, he _can’t_ take much _more_ , Naomi told him to bring Thaddeus to her and she’d make it stop, I told you once and you didn’t do anything, if you don’t do _something_ , he’s going to convince Thaddeus to come with him to see Naomi, and we _both_ know what’s going to happen when _that_ happens.” Sabaoth stares at him, partially in surprise that he had been tugged around by the younger guard and partially at the notion of just what kind of threat that was hanging over his Warden’s head.

They both knew exactly what would happen when Theo convinced Thaddeus to come with him to Naomi, and it _was_ ‘when’ not ‘if’, Thaddeus adored Theo as his Co-Warden, he’d do anything the younger would ask him to do. “Really?”

“Saba, Theo is _desperate_ , a _desperate_ man is a _dangerous_ man, he’s on the verge of shattering.” He pokes him in the chest harshly. “You know what she’ll do to Thaddeus once he gets there. You _can’t_ forget this time, you _can’t_ get distracted this time, you _have_ to tell Thaddeus before _irreparable_ damage is done.” Ion pokes him again. “Theo is desperate, he’ll do anything he’s told if it means it’ll stop the abuse—”

“Is it _really_ that bad, though?” The oldest guard questions the accusations, it was a hefty accusation, Thaddeus wouldn’t be happy to know one of his guards was making such accusations if they were unfounded. “He never said anything on the matter to him or me.”

“He thinks you guys already _know_!” Ion shouts. “And, _yes_ , it is _really_ that bad, he tried draining his grace, he would have _died_ if I hadn’t found him!”

Sabaoth’s eyes widen at that implication, he’d had doubts, but only a man at the very end of their rope would try and do _that_. “Come on, we’ll tell him immediately.” He catches the sleeve of the younger guard and tugs him forward as he turns around, Ion jogs slightly to meet him at his side, as they make their way down the crowded hall to the Warden’s office.

This was a _very_ precarious position they were in.

…

“ _What!”_ Thaddeus drops the files he’d been working, his mind moving a mile a minute at the revelation that had just been forced onto his shoulders, and stands quickly, everything else, no matter how busy he was, came second to his beloved little Co-Warden. “Where is he now?”

This was something he’d put an end to _immediately_.

They both turn to the younger guard, he knew the younger Warden the best, and Ion wracks his brain, it was just after lunch, he’d have just collected the trays from the prisoners, and it takes a moment to come to him, but it does. “The washroom!”

The Warden nods quickly, crossing out from behind his desk, jogging across the threshold of his office, and throws the door open as he exits, they follow close behind him, as he jogs down the hall, to the back, the noise of the busy Prison fading as they go farther and farther, the washroom was at the end of the hall. As they draw closer and closer, they can hear it, it’s faint, almost inaudible, but they hear it as they draw closer, the soft sounds of muted sobs, and they break through the entry way to the Prison’s washroom.

It’s a magnificent place, built to appear as a mountain cavern, large torches surrounding the large room cast a warm light around the space, the actual _‘tub’_ was a large lake, the water always warm and self cleaning, like a hot spring, light wafts of steam rising off the water, it starts shallow and grows deeper as you move out, the water laps at the rough stone shore, the stone being rough to avoid people slipping on slippery smooth stone, a waterfall falls down the farthest end of the bathing lake, the deepest part comes to the shoulders of the older prisoners, and the shallowest parts are for the rare fledglings that get sent here. Large shelves are carved into the stone in the walls near the entrance, containing various soaps, scrub brushes, and washcloths, the other shelves containing stacks of towels and clean clothing. Let it not be said that Thaddeus didn’t treat his prisoners _very_ well.

They follow the sound of the soft sobs, and step around a stone barrier, between the lake and drying area, and there he sits, curled in on himself, sobbing softly into his arms.

“Theo!” Thaddeus leaves them, rushing forward, kneeling in front of his Co-Warden, leaving them behind. “Theo?” Food is soiling his curls, the remnants of the stew they’d had for lunch today, and he picks a piece of potato out of his curls, it does little to help the mess, but it’s a slight start. “Theo, can you look at me?” He curls his hands gently around the younger angels arms, and pulls them away, then he curls his hands around his slick cheeks, lifting his head gently. “It’s alright, little one.” His little Co-Warden is covered in food, his clothes soiled with left over stew, and he touches a finger to the bruise painting the side of his head. “What happened here, little one?”

“One t-threw their t—tray at—at m—me!” Another sob tears from him, and he pulls the younger close, pressing him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him, not caring about the food smearing into his top, and just holds him close as he sobs once more. “W—Why do th—they h—hate me so—so m—much! W—What did—did I—I d—do w—wrong! I—I don’t u—under—understand! W—What did I—I d—d—do!”

“Oh, little one.” Thaddeus pulls him in close. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I have a suspicion as to why they’re treating you like this. I’ll put a stop to this immediately. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have allowed this treatment to continue.”

Theo clutches at the front of his tunic. “Y—You di—didn’t kn—know?” He turns his head, pressing his face into the older Warden’s chest, and breathes out another sob. “Pl—Please m—make th—them st—stop! P—Please! I—I’ll do anything, I—I’ll st—st—step dow—down i—if y—you wa—want! J—Just please ma—make th—them st—stop!”

“No, no, baby brother.” He curls his hand around the back of his head. “I love having you as my Co-Warden, I would never ask you to step down, I’ll make them stop, I will, I promise.” He massages the back of his neck lightly with his fingers. “You have to calm down, little one, you’re going to make yourself sick.” He rubs his back lightly as he turns to address his head guard. “Sabaoth, why didn’t the guards do something to stop this behavior.”

Sabaoth looks ashamed. “I hadn’t told them. I honestly hadn’t thought it was that bad when Ion told me the first time—”

“The _first_ time, you mean he’s told you _before_ , and you never said anything!” Thaddeus snaps sharply. “I _expect_ you to tell me these things, Sabaoth!”

The oldest guard shuffles on his feet nervously. “I didn’t think it was that bad, and I didn’t want to bother you, you were so busy, I didn’t think it was a valid accusation.”

“I don’t _care_ what you think, if there’s an accusation of _maltreatment_ or _abuse_ , you are to _tell_ me as soon as you hear it, _immediately_!” Thaddeus is angry at him, that much he knows, though, perhaps angry isn’t the word he’s looking for, infuriated is a more apt description of his anger. “Any accusation of abuse, whether it be to a _guard_ or a _prisoner_ , and _especially_ to my Co-Warden, is to be brought to me _immediately_!”

Sabaoth swallows and averts his eyes from the infuriated ones staring at him. “Do you….Do you want me to step down?”

“No, I do not.” The Warden’s tone is harsh still, firm, he’s still quite angry at his younger brother. “No matter how angry I am, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re the best guard I’ve got, no offence Ion, I only mean that in sense that your my head guard. So, no, I don’t want you to step down.” The oldest guard bites his lip. “But, I am _very_ disappointed in you, _very_ disappointed. I expected _better_ from you, Sabaoth. I’ll deal with you later, and you can be assured, I _am_ telling Titus _and_ Nisroc about this. And _they_ can do as _they_ see fit when _I’m_ through with you.” He jerks his head to the entry way. “Wait for me upstairs, in the corner, until I finish here.”

“Thaddy, I—”

“ _Go,_ Sabaoth.”

He nods sharply, wincing at the tone he used, and turns sharply, to make his leave immediately.

Thaddeus turns his attention to the only guard who’d been taking care of his Co-Warden. “Ion, thank you, for watching out for him, I’m sorry Sabaoth disregard you the last time, and thank you, for pushing him this time. I’m promoting you, I want you to serve as Theo’s escort, he still has duties he has to preform, unfortunately, and I can’t let him skimp on them, not right now, but I give you my _full_ permission to use as much force as _necessary_ , only as necessary, _don’t_ go attacking prisoners unfounded, on _any_ who would harm him, in any fashion, I want you to take down their name, and if they refuse it, their cell number, and tell me immediately upon completion of that duty, and I will take care of it from there.”

Ion nods sharply, relieved that someone had finally brought it to the Warden’s attention, and the abuse would be taken care of. “He was going to take you to Naomi.” Thaddeus inhales sharply, nothing was confirmed, mind you, but nearly everyone _knew_ what she did to you when you went to her. “Told him she could make it stop if he brought you to her, and she knew you’d come, you do almost everything he asks you to do, she used his vulnerability against him. Please, don’t be mad at him for it, he thought you knew about it all, and just wanted it to stop.”

“I’m not mad at him. I’d have done the same thing if I were in his shoes.” He rubs his back soothingly and Theo’s sobs slowly die down. “I want you to get us both some clean clothes, and then I want you to get Raphael, have him wait upstairs for us.” He looks down at his wheezing Co-Warden. “Tell him about what’s been going on. I want him to look Theo over, to ensure there’s nothing else that needs attention.”

The guard nods lightly. “Got it, I’ll be back with some clean clothes, and get Raph to wait for you upstairs.” Ion spares his younger brother one last look, and turns to make his leave, trusting that he’d be taken care of now.

Thaddeus turns his attention down to his little Co-Warden once they’re along. “Come on, baby brother, let’s get you cleaned up.” He stands slowly, pulling the younger angel up with him, and gently tugs his soiled tunic over his head, softly ordering him to step out of his boots, and sets both on the top of the short stone barrier, slips out of his own boots, grabs the bar of soap resting on the barrier, and tugs him gently into the water.

They wade out a bit, until the water comes up to their knees, and gently pulls him down with him as he lowers himself to sit in the water, lowering him to lay in his lap. He smiles at him soothingly, rubbing lightly at the cheek that isn’t bruised. “It’ll be alright, little one, I’ll take care of everything.” He hears bootsteps and he knows it’s Ion returning with their clean clothes. “It’ll be alright, now.”

The Warden carefully picks the chunks of potatoes and other various vegetables from his curls, lathers the soap in his hands, and massages it into his hair, rubbing gently, but firmly, making sure to get every curl, scrubbing away the drying stew broth, and cups water over his head to rinse his curls of the soap, massaging the back of his head lightly, smiling when he sighs softly in content, and carries on for another couple minutes, his baby brother needed as much comfort as he could get.

After a moment, he scratches a tad firmer, and Theo opens his eyes, looking up at him. “Let’s get out and get changed. Raph’s waiting for us upstairs, he’s a busy guy, we shouldn’t make him wait too long.” He scratches one more time. “I’ll scratch your head some more after he looks you over, okay?” Theo smiles up at him and nods mutely, sitting up when he’s pushed lightly, taking the older Warden’s hand as he rises and pulls him to his feet.

…

Raphael stands from the chair he’d been sitting in when they make their entrance, opening his arms for the young Co-Warden. “Oh, little one.” There was nothing more comforting then being in the Healer’s embrace, and Theo doesn’t hesitate, jumping forward to curl around the Archangel, taking comfort in the feeling of his arms curling around him, a large hand cradling the back of his head. “I’m so sorry, little one, it’ll be alright now.”

Theo nods, pressing himself closer to the Archangel, soaking in his comfort and warmth, humming softly when fingers scratch at the back of his head. “Let’s see what the damage is, shall we?”


	276. Mr. Mopey Pants

He stares at the Co-Warden for a long while, his younger brother moping in his desk chair, and he waits a moment longer before heaving a large sigh. “Okay, Mr. Mopey Pants, no more moping, come on.” Ion tugs the younger angel up by the wrist, Theo yelps as he’s tugged up over his shoulder, and bangs his fists against his back. “Hey! Put me down! Ion, this isn’t fair! Put me down!”

“I’ll put you down in just a minute.” The guard carefully holds him in place with one hand and reaches out to untie his boots with the other, carefully tugging them off, dropping them down on his desk chair, tugging his socks off next, and those to rest on his desk. “You need some cheering up and I’m going to make sure you get it.”

“I do not! I’m just fine!”

He pats him on the bottom lightly. “You sure do, I can see it, there’s no need to deny it.” Ion turns back towards his bed. “Big brother will help you feel better.”

“I don’t need you to help me feel better!”

“The fact that you’re denying so much means you need it even more then I thought.” He leans forward, pulling the younger angel off from over his shoulder, and Theo yelps as he falls backwards, bouncing slightly as he lands on his older brother’s, his best friend’s, bed. “And, I’m more then happy to do what needs to be done.” His eyes widen as Ion climbs up over the foot of the bed, he’s a cheater, he’s long since learned that, this isn’t the first time he’s found himself in this position, and he _knows_ it won’t be the last time either. His older brother curls his fingers around his ankles, and his warm grace circles around them, like shackles, keeping his feet against the bed as he struggles to lift them, to kick his brother away. He continues climbing up higher, curling his fingers around his middle, his warm grace curling over him, keeping him in place, and he catches his hands as he reaches out to push at him, lifting them up above his head, the warmth curls around his wrists, and when he tugs on his arms, they stay in position above his head. “Perfect, I’ve got you in the perfect position, completely where I need you.”

“Ion, don’t!” His eyes widen when his brother opens his legs slightly, allowing him access to his thighs, and rests there to keep them from closing again. “Ion, please!”

“Nope, no sir.” The older angel smiles at him and winks playfully. “This is what mopey little angels like you get.”

“I won’t mope anymore! I swear!”

Ion chuckles softly. “You most certainly won’t.”

Theo inhales deeply, when he leans forward, squealing loudly when he digs his fingers in the creases of his upper legs, arching his back sharply, the best he can do is twitch his legs, and he does, wildly. “EEIEIIEAIIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA NOHOHHOHOHHHOHOHOHOHO! EIEIEAIIAIAAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA IOHOHOHOHOHOHON NOHOHOHOHOHO! EIEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEERE! NOHOHOHOHOT THEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE! EEIEIAIIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHEHEHHEHHEAHAIAAIAIHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAH AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAHAAHAHHAHAHAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAT SPOHOHOHOHOHOHOT NOHOHOHOOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHHEHEERREEEEIEIEIEIAEIAAIAIAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHA AAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA IOHHOHHOHOHOHOHOHON! IHIHIHIHIHIION PLEHEHEHEHHEEHEASE EIEIEAIIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEEEAASE!”

“Better get comfortable, little brother, we’ve got a long way to go.”


	277. Some Interesting Facts (Raphael, Titus, & Briathos)

Something had caught his eye as he was down at the Bazaar getting the usual items one of their new Elects would need, new leathers, armor, a sword from the Blacksmiths, new boots, new clothes, things like that. He’d gotten a few knickknacks for him, his room was baron, just a standard room, a made up bed, an empty bookcase, a few lamps, a large fireplace, an empty wardrobe, and a desk and chair, just the essentials.

So, as his mentor, Titus had said he’d go get him the things he needed while he started his studies. Briathos was quiet, he barely said a word, which wasn’t unusual to him, he himself was a quiet individual. There were a few things that set him apart from the others. He didn’t like joining them as they relaxed in a hot pool of water after a long day of training, he didn’t like taking his top off whenever anyone else was around, just little things, which they didn’t take bother from, they were all allowed to do things they preferred, and didn’t push someone into doing things they didn’t want to do.

He returned to the thing that caught his attention after he shoved all of his wrapped packages in the satchel he’d brought with him, and returned to the post he’d seen it on, a poster, small in size, the size of your typical piece of parchment, it read that the party who posted it was concerned about the whereabouts of the one pictured, but he knew a wanted poster when he saw one, and he tugs it down from the post, reading through the description of the missing person, and examines the picture of the one they were searching for. The face was familiar, he’s seen this face before, he knows he has, he recognizes it, and after a moment, he figures it out, and stares for a long minute.

Folding the poster, he stuffs it in his pocket, and turns in the direction of his home.

…

“Bria,” he sets his pack down on his young Elect’s bed, and the boy turns at the call of his name, looking up at him curiously, turning away from his study book. “Yea?”

The Power reaches into his pocket, withdrawing the poster he’d taken from the post, unfolds it, and passes it over. “This is you, isn’t it?”

Briathos takes the poster, pulling it in close, examining it closely for a long time, and then he crumbles it up, into a tight ball, and throws it as he turns, burying his head in his arms.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Titus rushes forward, rubbing a hand down the youth’s back, as he sobs into his arms. “Hey, what’s wrong, it’s alright.” He immediately removes his hand when the boy’s shrieks, arching his back, and he looks down at him in concern. “Bria?”

“P—Please don’t t—touch me there!” The youth turns to look up at him with tears streaming down his face. “T—They’re still f—fresh!”

The Power tilts his head. “What’s still fresh?”

Briathos rubs at his face, attempting to get himself under control and clean himself up, before addressing the question asked at him. “The stitches.”

Worry takes over. “Stitches?”

The youth nods lightly. “They’re still fresh.” He nods again. “That is me. I’m a runaway. I couldn’t….I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get away.”

Titus squats slightly, resting his hands on the youth’s knees. “Couldn’t take what anymore?”

“My superiors punishments. They thought I wasn’t meeting the quota and punished me.”

The Power frowns. “You have stitches because they punished you?” The young Elect nods and Titus stares at him for a moment. “What did they do?”

His Elect rubs at his nose. “The Blood Eagle.”

His mentor’s eyes widen. “They _tortured_ you?”

“No,” Briathos shakes his head. “Not torture, punishment, for running away the first time.”

“No, Bria, they _tortured_ you.” He squeezes his knees. “The Blood Eagle is _torture_.” He stands, pulling the youngling up gently, and guides him towards the door. “We have to get your back looked at.”

“No! No, I can’t go see him!”

Titus turns to look down at him. “Him?”

“Raph! I can’t go see him! He’ll know me!” Briathos steps back, trying to tug away from the Power, but his grip remains intact. “I can’t! He’ll ask questions and if he asks questions I’ll be forced to tell him and if I’m forced to tell him then he’ll want to investigate it and if goes to investigate it he’ll find out and if he finds out they’ll know it was me who told and if they know it was me who told they’ll kill me for it!”

The older angel turns just a bit more. “They’ve threatened to kill you?”

His young Elect nods frantically. “They threaten everyone they punish what they’ll do if we tell him! He can’t know! He can’t!”

“Bria,” he curls a hand around the youth’s cheek. “First, Raph would never let someone in his flock get away with this kind of behavior, he’d ensure they’d never see the light of day again. Second, you’re not just my Elect, you’re all of our Elect, we do everything together, as one unit, when I took you in, they took you in, especially Nisroc, and Nisroc is very protective of his Elects, even if Raph didn’t incarcerate them, Nisroc would obliterate them if they ever came seeking to harm you.” He rubs his cheek with his thumb. “You’ve got an Archangel _and_ the whole of the Powers as your protection. Between all of us, they’d never get close enough.”

Briathos stares at him. “What if he wants to take me back?” He reaches up to curl his fingers in the Power’s tunic. “I’m technically still in his flock.”

Titus smiles at him. “The only thing he wants for his flock is for them to be happy, if you’re happiest here, he’ll be more then glad to let you change flocks.”

The youngling stares at him. “You’ll be there the entire time?”

“I’ll even hold your hand.”

…

“He went through _what_?” Raphael looks between Power and Elect incredulously. “Are you positive?”

Titus gives the Archangel a dull look. “Would we _lie_ about that?”

“Touche.” The Healer nods, turning slightly, gesturing them to follow, and they do, stepping up to walk at his side as he guides them to an empty bed. “You said he’d already been stitched up?”

“That’s what he said. He didn’t really go into detail and I didn’t push.”

“Right,” he gestures to the bed they come to, looking down at the youngling, and he nods, stepping forward. “Come, I’ll help you out of your tunic.”

Briathos looks to his mentor with nervous eyes and Titus smiles, nodding encouragingly, and he nods as he turns back to the Healer. The Archangel smiles down at him, the smile eases his nerves slightly, and he raises his arms slightly so he can pull his top up over his head, his range of motion is presently limited with his injury.

Raphael’s eyes widen as he sets the tunic down on the end of the bed, reaching out for the talisman hanging down the youngling’s chest, and the youth inhales slightly. “You’re one of _mine_?” He rubs his thumb over his crest, his eyes catching the particular rune that notates where he belongs in his flock. “You’re a Miracle Worker.” The youth nods mutely, looking away, averting his eyes. “You said your superior did this to you to punish you?”

He frowns when the youngling nods again, just as silently as before, and he lets the talisman go, for a moment. “What’s their name?”

“Are you gonna tell them that I was the one who told, ‘cause if you are, they said they’d kill anyone who told you what they were doing.”

The Archangel stares down at him in equal parts shock and astonishment. “They said they’d kill anyone who told me they were mistreating you?”

Briathos nods slightly. “They tell everyone they punish.”

“I will deal with this immediately.” He pats the boy’s cheek. “And, no, I will not tell them I learned from you.”

“They’ll know though, I’m the only one who got away, they’ll know it was me.”

Raphael sighs sadly, curling his fingers around the boy’s talisman, Briathos watches in wonder as it glows in the Archangel’s grasp, for only a moment, before it fades. “There, if anyone dares to come after you, my grace will protect you.”

The youngling looks down at his talisman for a long moment, then back up to the Archangel, offering him a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” The Healer turns him gently. “Lay on down and I’ll take a look at everything.”


	278. He's Back And The Medic's New Elect (Thaddeus, Puriel, & Narcariel)

He sighs, tilting his head at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall behind the metal door, they’re quick, they’re running, and he shrieks, when the door’s thrown open, they run in, bury their face in his belly, and blow a harsh long raspberry. “EEIEEIEIEIAIIAAAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAA!”

“Narca!” Thaddeus looks up at him for a moment before hugging his arms around his belly. “You and your ticklish little self came back!” He presses a kiss to his belly. “I’m torn between being upset that you came back, because that means you were a bad little angel again, and elated, because I get to play with you again.” Narca giggles softly and he smiles. “I hope you know, that since this is your second time, that it’s going to be so much worse than it was the first time.”

He giggles harder when the Warden uncurls from around his belly, and turns away, to close the door behind him, and then he returns, eyeing his belly closely, playfully. “So, tell me what you did to get yourself here this time.”

Narcariel giggles softly when he starts poking around his belly. “Don’t you already know?”

“Oh, I already know, alright.” He pokes around his belly button. “I want you to say it.”

“I stabbed someone in the belly.”

Thaddeus nods lightly, poking around the belly before him, humming softly at the giggles he elicits. “And, why did you stab someone in the belly?”

Narca licks his lips. “Because, they called me fat.”

The Warden looks up at him. “Someone was body shaming you?”

The young warrior nods slightly, biting his lip, tears coming to his eyes. “They do it all the time.”

“Oh, Narca.” He crosses around the side of the table, coming to stand at the head of the table, brushing his curls back to press a kiss to his forehead. “Why don’t you tell someone instead of taking care of it on your own?”

“Because, they’ll agree, and think that I’m fat too, and I’ll be kicked out.” Narcariel sniffles softly and the Warden catches the tears that slip down his cheeks. “Because I look different. I have a big belly. And, people with big bellies can’t be warriors. That what they said.”

Thaddeus frowns down at him lightly, and nods, leaving him for a moment to cross from the table to the door, pulling it open slightly to poke his head out, Narcariel can here him talking softly, but he can’t make out what he’s saying to the guard outside. Someone steps away, he hears their boots as they walk away, and Thaddeus returns to his place above his head. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“Nobody else looks like me, everyone else is firm and fit, I’m not. I jiggle when I run and jump and they make fun of me and call me names and I usually just turn the other cheek, but this time I just couldn’t take it, and I stabbed them.” The young warrior looks away. “I’m sorry, Thaddy, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted them to stop. For just one day.”

The Warden scratches lightly at his scalp. “Any one, of any girth, shape, or size, can be a warrior.” He rubs his curls back gently. “You know Puriel, right, you know him?”

Narcariel nods lightly. “He’s a Power.”

“Right, he’s a Power, he’s big and strong, right?”

He nods lightly. “Yea.”

“And, he has a big belly too, doesn’t he?”

He nods again. “Yea.”

Thaddeus nods lightly. “And, you know Rahatiel, right?”

The young warrior nods again. “Yea.”

“And, he’s got a bit of a big belly too, doesn’t he?”

He nods once again. “Yea.”

“How about Sablo, you know him too, right?”

Narcariel nods once more. “Yea.”

“And, he has a bit of a big belly too, doesn’t he, he’s got a bit of a big belly?”

He nods lightly. “Yea.”

Thaddeus nods. “So, you’ve got three _Powers_ who have big bellies, _Powers_ , the best of the best, the strongest warriors Heaven has to offer, under only the Archangels themselves, if three _Powers_ have big bellies, then there are definitely big bellied people who can be warriors.”

“I guess.”

“You _guess_?” He’s flabbergasted with this little warrior. “You have _proof_. Three of Heaven’s best Warriors have big bellies.”

They both look over when the door opens slightly, and a head pokes in, Narcariel’s eyes widen at _who_ pokes their head in.

“Hey, Sabra said you wanted to see me?”

Thaddeus smiles at him. “Yea, come on in, Puri.” The Power nods, stepping inside, and closes the door behind him, smiling at the young warrior as he steps up to the side of the table. “Puri, this is—”

“Narcariel, yea, I know.” They both seem surprised, and he looks between them both, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “He’s in Abe’s squadron.”

The Warden raises an eyebrow at him. “And, you know _everyone_ in his squadron by name?”

“No, the medic shakes his head. “I don’t know everyone in his squadron by name.” He nods at the young warrior on the table before him. “I asked for his name. I’ve had my eye on him.”

Thaddeus hums. “Why?”

Puriel smiles up at him. “Well, it’s my turn to pick an Elect, I’ve been keeping an eye out, and he interested me.”

“You’re looking for an Elect and you’ve been watching him?”

The Power nods, smiling slightly, turning back to the young warrior, and pokes a finger over his belly. “My Elects always have a chubby tummy.” He pats his own belly. “Like me.” His finger pokes up to the youth’s belly button. “I think I’ve found my new Elect.” He pokes his finger into the youth’s belly button. “And, I think they should know, being _my_ Elect, they get _lots_ and _lots_ of tickles, because I’m a big tickle monster.” He wiggles his finger and the young warrior squeals softly. “I pick you, Narcariel.”

Narcariel squirms around, squealing and giggle, trying to suck in his belly to get away from that wiggling finger, no easy task with all of the giggles spilling from him.

“Tell me, my little Elect.” Puriel pauses his attack. “What brought you back here?”

The youth bites his lip, so he turns to the Warden, and Thaddeus nods. “Someone’s been body shaming him.”

He inhales deeply, turning back to the youth. “Who?” He wiggles his finger when he gets no response and the young warrior squeals softly. “What’s there name?” Narcariel shakes his head again, no easy task with the finger wiggling in his belly button, attempting to torture the information out of him. “How about I ask you a series of questions, and you nod if I get close.”

Narcariel considers that, and nods, breathing a sigh of giggly relief when that finger stops wiggling.

Puriel nods lightly. “Are they a boy?” He nods. “Are they tall?” No nod. “Are they short?” No nod. “Are they medium?” He nods. “Does he have brown hair?” He nods again. “Is he in your training squadron?” Narcariel nods again. “Is it Amaymon?”

Tears well up in his eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright.” The Power pats his belly lightly. “We’ll take care of it. Bullying isn’t tolerated and body shaming is most certainly not tolerated. We’ll get this taken care of.” He looks up to the Warden. “May I take him, I’ll take care of his punishment at a later time.”

Thaddeus nods lightly, unstrapping the warriors wrists. “Sure, take good care of him.”

“I most certainly will.”


	279. Stealing From Big Brother (Semyaza & Jeremiah)

“Class is dismissed.” All of the little one’s turn to look at the voice, staring in awe at the Captain of the Grigori standing in the doorway, hands resting lightly on his hip, staring at their instructor firmly. “Go on,” he nods towards the door of their classroom. “Get.”

The fledglings smile at each other, chattering excitedly as the stand from their desks, running for the door, giggling excitedly at the prospect of having a free day to enjoy.

Jeremiah averts his eyes as his classroom empties, looking away from the older angel, Semyaza clears his throat, holding his hand out. “Give me back my key, Jeremiah.” The choir instructor nods mutely, reaching into his pocket for the requested item, and turns slightly, his gaze still averted, and sets it down in the Grigori’s hand. “You’ve been stealing from me.”

“I have not!” The younger angel’s head shoots around. “I have _not_!”

Semyaza raises an eyebrow. “Oh, _really_?” He waves a hand at him. “Empty your pockets.”

“Y—Yaza, I don—”

“If you have nothing to hide, then it shouldn’t be a problem, now should it?” The apothecary snaps his fingers. “Come on, hop to it, empty those pockets.”

The younger angel nods mutely, reaching into his pockets, bowing his head when he withdraws six small bottles, handing them over to his older brother when he snaps his fingers again and holds his hand out.

Semyaza hums, reading the labels on the bottles that he’d stolen from him, and tucks them into his pockets. “Why were you taking pain relieving tonics?”

“Noth—”

“The _truth_ , Jeremiah.”

He winces at the tone. “My back hurts.”

“And,” the older angel steps closer. “Instead of _coming_ to me for help, you decided to take my things, behind my back.”

Jeremiah chances a glance up at his older brother. “I’m sorry, Yaza, I should have asked.”

“Yes,” he nods firmly. “You should have.” He reaches out to take his younger brother’s hand, pulling him closer gently, curling an arm around his waist lightly. “Come on, baby brother, let’s get you taken care of.” The younger angel inhales softly, walking stiffly, and the older angel moves in time with him, slow and steady steps. “Easy, easy, slow and steady, there’s no rush.”

The youth instructor nods, biting his lip, clutching at the back of his older brother’s tunic.

Semyaza brings them to a stop outside of his room, reaching forward to open the door, and slowly eases him inside, crossing slowly from the doorway to the bed, and helps him lay down, on his belly. “There we are, just lay down and relax, I’ll get you an ice pack.”

Jeremiah nods, tense as he lays against his older brother’s pillows, and sighs in relief at the cold compress that’s laid over his back. “Am I in trouble, Yaza?”

“Yes, you are.” Semyaza unlocks the cupboard, and opens the door, placing the bottles that had been stolen back in their place, and sifts through the others. “But, we’ll deal with the consequences of your actions when you feel better.” He finds what he’s looking for and closes the cupboard, locking it up once more, and turns to return to his younger brother’s side. “If your back hurt, what you took wouldn’t have been very helpful, you should have taken the good stuff.”

He turns his head when he feels the bed dip beside him. “I don’t know what the good stuff is, I just know that one bottle.”

“I know, that’s why I’m always telling you to _come_ to me when you don’t feel well.” The apothecary pulls the cap off the bottle and holds it up to the instructors lips. “I know all there is to know about those bottle and vials in there, I’d give you what you need, the _right_ thing.”

The younger angel sips down the contents of the bottle and sighs, settling back down into his older brother’s pillows, ands sighs again, melting into the bed under him, the potion the apothecary gave him was fast acting and strong, and the fingers scratching his head lightly just tie the metaphorical knot. “Feels good, Yaza…”

Semyaza smiles lightly. “You feel good, baby brother?”

Jeremiah nods languidly. “Feel good.”

“Good,” he rubs his thumb under the instructors left ear. “You get some rest, I’ll be at my desk working on my journal, and come check on you in a bit, alright?”

The youth licks his lips, nodding sluggishly. “’Kay, Yaza.”


	280. The First Time (Puriel & Zaveriel)

“I regret that I’ve been so busy lately as to not greet my newest little captain properly.” Zaveriel doesn’t struggle as he hangs limply over the Power’s shoulder as he makes his way down the hallway slowly. “But, I’m free now, and I can properly introduce myself to my newest little medic.” He yelps as Puriel leans forward, tugging him from over his shoulder, and tosses him up onto the bed. The newly inducted medic smiles as the Power slowly crawls up over the foot of the bed and settles himself beside him.

He goes straight in, no forewarning, okay, perhaps a little bit of forewarning, and pinches at the meat of his inner thigh. Zaveriel squeals brightly, and he tugs at his captive leg in a desperate sort of manner as he squeezes all over, bright boisterous laughter filling the Medic’s room with it’s brightness. Puriel chuckles, spidering his fingers over his inner thigh, driving the young medic crazy with laughter, and he chuckles at his expense.

“Nis was right, you are cute.” He lifts the youth’s leg slightly, digging his fingers into the underside of his thigh, and he squeals again, kicking his leg again, he reminds him of a fledgling. “Your _are_ cute.”

“Ihihihii! Ihihihihi’m nohohoot cuhuhuhute! Ihihi’m tohohohough!”

“Sure, you are, I’ve seen you in training, I’ve seen you fight, you’re really tough.” He lifts the youth’s leg just a bit more and spiders his fingers up to his knee and he shrieks with laughter. “But this, this right here, is cute.” He tucks his ankle under his arm and leans forward slightly, digging the fingers of his right hand into the meat of his inner thigh again, and the fingers of his left hand under his thigh, and Zaveriel squeals again, throwing his head back in uproarious laughter.

"And, this," he scoots up on the edge of the bed, smiling at the giggles that continue to spill from him, and leans over his waist, his right elbow resting next to his hip, posing his fingers over the sides of his belly. He smiles, wiggling his fingers in gently, and the young elect squeals brightly, squirming under him like a little worm. "This is adorable."

Zaveriel squirms under him, trying to get out from underneath his fingers, they wiggle torturously and relentlessly in his belly. Squealing and shrieking with laughter when he runs his fingers over his waist line, Puriel smiles down at him down at him, poking playfully at his belly. "They're right, you are a giggly little guy, aren't you?" He wiggles his finger under his belly button, and he bites his lip, little giggles escaping through the attempt at damming them. "As you already know, my name is Puriel, everyone calls me Puri, you can call me Puri." His finger travels from under his belly button to the side of his belly. "I'm another one of your new big brothers, little guy, and I can say with absolute certainty," he nods firmly, "that I am going to take great pleasure in giving this belly of yours a bit of a good tickle torture."

"Nohoho!"

"I imagine this belly must be very tickly ticklish if you're so against it." He wiggles his fingers into his belly lightly and the boy's giggles pick up in volume. "I think I love this little belly already. And your little thighs of course." The Power reaches back, squeezing at his thigh lightly, smiling when the boy squeals brightly and his leg jerks as far as it can from his fingers, no matter, he follows it. He squeezes his thigh for a minute longer and pulls his hand back, poking him in the belly again, all over, and the boy under him jolts and jerks with every poke. "This is my belly now. I'll share it with the others. But this belly is _my_ belly." Puriel smiles at him playfully, wiggling his fingers against the shaking belly gently, and the boy shrieks and arches his back, giggles turning to bright laughter. "Say this is my belly."

"Nohohoho! Sihihir!"

"What did you just call me?" He continues his gentle torture on his belly and wiggles the fingers of his other hand against his side, the boy shrieks, and squeals with laughter, arching his back again and squirming where he lay under the Power. "I swear I just heard you call me _'Sir',_ but I know you know not to, so I must be wrong, am I wrong?" The boy nods frantically, trying to suck in his belly, but his giggles make it extremely difficult to hold his breath in order for him to do so.

"Yeheheheahahes! I sahahahaid Purihihihiahaihiaihi! _Purihihiahahiahii!"_

"That's what I thought you said." He wiggles the fingers up over his side, and then back down over his belly, the little shaking, giggle filled belly. "Now, say this is my belly."

"Nohohoho! It's mihihiahihaihihiahine!"

Puriel chuckles softly, evading the hands batting at his rather expertly, he's the older brother, he’s become rather skilled at tickle torturing little angels. Trickster angels and stubborn angels alike. He can get them all, he's had lots of practice, Haniel and Hasmal can attest to that, and Abraxos too, at some degree.

Let's just say he's a very skilled tickle monster when it comes to his baby siblings.

"Oh, no, no. It most certainly isn't. This," he wiggles two fingers on either side of his belly button. "This is my belly." His fingers pause, he rests his hands at his sides, and hums thoughtfully. "I think I know what'll get you to say it." He looks down at the belly, still shaking with giggles, even though he's stopped his playful torment. He tugs at the end of his tunic, covering his belly from him, tugging it up from under his belt. Zaveriel's giggles pick up in anticipation, as he tugs his tunic up from over his belly, baring it to the world around them, and the Power smiles down at him, wiggling his fingers over his belly playfully. "What's going to happen to this little belly now?"

"Nohohohthihihing!"

"No, I don't think that's true." He hovers his fingers right over his belly, wiggling still, his young medic giggles harder, watching his fingers closely. "I think it's going to get some tickles."

"Nohoho!"

"Oh, yes." His fingers finally touch down, and the younger angel squeals brightly, arching his back at the sudden sensation. He looks like a fledgling, batting at his hands, smile splitting his face, head thrown back against the pillow underneath him, it's an endearing sight, and it makes the Power smile. "My little belly is going to get some tickles." The medic spiders his fingers over to the left side of his belly and the little medic squeals again, leaning over to the right as much as he can, squealing again when the torturous fingers wiggle a path over to the right side of his belly, and he jumps away to the left. "This little belly appears to me to be a bit ticklish."

Zaveriel shakes his head frantically, boisterous laughter pouring from his lips, bouncing from side to side as the fingers tortured the sides of his belly relentlessly.

"Oh, yes, it is," he digs his fingers into his lower belly and the boy arches his back again, laughter exploding harder from him. "My little belly is quite ticklish." He looks down to the belly with raised eyebrows. "Now, look at this little roll of baby fat."

"I dohohohahahoahoon't hahahhaahahave baahahahhahaby fahahahahaahhhat!"

"But, you do," he wiggles his index fingers into the little pouch of baby fat and the little captain squeals brightly, flowing right into uproarious laughter, pressing his head back into the pillow underneath him. "It's right here." He keeps on for a minute, just savoring the uproarious laughter coming from their giggly, ticklish little medic, and then he pulls back. "Now, are you going to say this is my little belly, or am I going to have to take some more drastic convincing measures?"

Zaveriel shakes his head stubbornly, he'd never say it, not even under the worst possible torture.

Puriel smiles down at him, poking his belly playfully, eliciting a bout of giggles from the boy. "You're cute." He continues to poke over his belly, bubbly giggles filling the room, and he smiles adoringly. "I like you, you giggly little captain, very much. Nis made the right choice in allowing you to be one of my medics." He rests his hands on either side of him. "Now, about those drastic convincing measures," he looks down at the bare belly with a smile, eyeing it carefully, as though searching out a spot for attack. "Let's see if this'll make you say it."

Zaveriel's eyes widen, when it dawns on him what's about to happen, and he shakes his head frantically. "NO! No! No, no, no!" He squirms side to side, trying to pull himself out from under the medic. "Not that! Not that!"

"Oh, yes," he grips his sides to keep him still and bends forward. " _That_." Puriel presses his lips over the little medic’s belly button, takes a deep breath, and blows out a hard and long raspberry. The boy squeals loudly, brightly, and he laughs softly into his belly before he takes another deep breath. He squeals and jerks, arching his back with every harsh playful raspberry, at some point, the older Power snakes his arms under him when he arches his back again, his fingers coming out on either side, and he wiggles them into his sides torturously. He presses a kiss to the shaking belly. "I love this little belly. _My_ little belly." He takes a deep breath, buries his face into the left side of his belly, and shakes his head as he blows out another playfully long raspberry.

Zaveriel squeals and laughs, boisterous, uproarious laughter, over and over again. Shaking his head side to side, he first pushes against the medic's shoulders with all his might, then moves up to push at his head.

"My ticklish little belly." He takes another breath, buries his face into the right side of his belly, and shakes his head as he blows out another raspberry. "I'm not stopping until you say it."

He starts blowing little raspberries all over his belly, and Zaveriel screams in laughter, falling limp under the Medic, his fingers curled in his hair, and he all but screams out what he needs to in order to get him to stop. "IHIHIHIT'S YOHOHOHAOHOAHAHAHOOUR BEHEHEHEHAHAHALELLY!"

"What was that?" He nibbles lightly at his baby fat, takes a deep breath, and buries his face in again to blow another big raspberry. "I didn't quite catch that."

"YOHOHOAHAHAHHOHOOURS! YOHOHHOAHAHAHHOUR BEHEHEHAHAHHAHAELLY!"

"Did you admit that this was my little belly?"

"YOHOHHOAHAHAHAHHOUR BEHEHEEAHAHAHAELLY!"

The older Power chuckles softly, peppering kisses over his belly playfully. "I love this tickly little belly." He blows a big raspberry into his lower belly. "I could tickle this little belly _all_ night." He smiles up at the hysterical boy underneath him. "And, there's _nothing_ you can do to stop me."

He takes a deep breath, puffing his cheeks up, and the little angel reacts instantaneously, bracing his hands against the Powers head, eyes wide, shaking his head frantically. "NO! NOOO! NO MORE! NO, NO, NO! STAY AWAY! STAHAHAHAY AWAHAHAHY! NOHHOHOAHHAHAHOO!" Zaveriel squeals and screams when his attempts at holding his face away from his belly fails him and he drops into his belly, burying his face in, and blows a big, long raspberry into his belly button. "IEIEIEEEEEHEHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAIEEHEHEHAHHAHA!"

"I know that you've been through Nis's tickle tortures. He's quite mean. I’ve also been told you’re quite the prankster," he pulls away and looks up at him, the little elects chest heaving for a breath, giggling feverishly as he watched him with wide attentive eyes. "I want to make sure you _know_ what'll happen if I even _think_ you're having thoughts about coming after me."

"I sahahahaid it thohohough! I saahahahaid ihihit!"

"Oh, I know you did, and I'm happy that you admit this belly is my little belly to play with as much as I want to." He adjusts his position, climbing up over him, laying over his waist, his legs, straddling his legs. " _Now_ I'm teaching a lesson. Don't worry, I'll give you breaks to catch your breath, I'm not cruel, I'm a medic after all." He crosses his arms over his waist to keep him in place. "That was just a bit of a good tickle torture, laughter's the best medicine you know, I'm the Medic and an older brother, I'd know that." He leans forward against his arms. "But, now, now I'm going to give you the most tickly tickle torture you've ever had. Nis isn't _nearly_ as bad as I am, _I'm_ the one you should _always_ think twice about it before pranking. Because, I, I will make you _scream_ with laughter. Make you feel like that little fledgling squirming and squealing under the tickly torturous fingers of a big brother." He curls the fingers of his left hand around his baby brother's right wrist and pulls his arm away from his side, leaning over on his elbow, he examines the wide open side, free for him to torture as much as he pleases. "Now that I'm comfortable, lets begin." He leans down, taking a deep breath as he does, and buries his face into his bare side, blowing out a long hard raspberry. Zaveriel squeals, again and again, as he blows raspberry after raspberry over his side, shaking his head, he explodes with boisterous laughter when he nibbles at the slight chub on his side, reaching over with his right hand to wiggle his fingers into his side above him.

Zaveriel kicks his legs wildly, drumming his heels into the mattress under him, smacking his free hand against the Powers head, squealing, and rolling from side to side, as best as he can, feeling very much like he was going to die from laughter, when the Medic pulls away from his right side. The tingles are enough to keep a steady stream of giggles flowing. "We can't forget about your left side." He curls the fingers of his right hand around the little angel’s left wrist and pulls his arm away from his side. Zaveriel squeals, before he even does anything, and reaches over desperately with his right hand, trying to block his side from the torturous Power above him. "NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! NOHOHOAHAHAHHAHOT AGAHAHAHAHIAAHAN! SAHAHHTAHAHAHYAAY AWAY! NONONO! STAY AWAY!" He screams with laughter when the Power makes a show of taking a deep breath again, his cheeks puffing up, slowly lowering himself to his left side. "NO! NO! YOHOHOHAHAHAHHOU STAHAHAHAHAY AWAAHAHAHHAY! DON'T! DOHOHOHAHAHAHOON'T YOHHOHAHAHAHOOUHUHUHHAUAHUA DAHAHAHAHAHHAAHARE!"

The Power looks up at him, his eyebrows raised, letting go of his mouth full of air. "Don't you dare?" He digs the fingers of his free hand into his side and the younger angel shrieks in laughter, cackling bright and loud, smacking at the hand digging into his side. " _Don't you dare?"_ Those fingers travel up and down his side, creating a tickly path up and down, and he rocks side to side in an attempt to evade them. "What are you going to do to stop me?" Fingers spider of his belly, Puri's belly, that's Puri's belly, and he squeals again. "There's nothing you can do, is there? You're just a ticklish little angel, aren't you, a ticklish little angel who's big brothers are going to tickle torture as much as they want to." A finger wiggles under his lowest rib and he snorts, shrieking and giggling. "Nis has told us all about your _old_ big brothers, he's very fond of you, you know, but he's told us all about them. We're not their biggest fans, as I'm sure you can imagine, they hurt their baby brother, and that's a big no-no. They may not have dared, they were bad big brothers, well, except for Oren, the others were bad, but we, we are very good big brothers." His finger pokes up and around his belly, Puri's belly, it's Puri's belly. "And, you'll learn rather quickly, we're a bunch of softies when it comes to our baby siblings. And you, little angel, are one of our baby siblings. What you'll also learn, very quickly, is when it comes to our baby siblings, and making them a giggling mess, we're a bunch of tickle monsters." He looks back down to his left side again, eyeing it playfully. "So, yes, I _do_ dare."

"IEIEIEIEHEEHHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHAHA!" Zaveriel squeals loudly when he takes a deep breath and blows a long hard raspberry against his side, shaking his head, taking another deep breath, and he squeals again when he blows another vicious raspberry. "AHAHAHAHEIEIEIHAHAHAHAHEHEHEAHA!" He twists and turns his captured arm desperately, especially when he hears the medic take another breath, and when he manages to tug his wrist free, the Power adjusts, moving up to the middle of his side and digs his fingers into the upper and lower parts of his side, blowing another vicious raspberry against his side. "AHAHAHAHHEHEHEAHAHAHAHA SIEHAHEHEHEHHHIHIAHAHAHAHIR!"

He laughs at his expense pulling away from his side, looming over his belly, he digs his fingers into the sides of his belly torturously. "I _know_ you didn't just call me _'sir'._ " The boy shrieks and howls with laughter, bouncing under him, from side to side, trying to shake his fingers off. " _Again_." He moves his fingers down to wiggle into his lower belly. "We'll break that habit of yours, oh, trust me, we will."

Puriel stops, pulling his fingers away, crossing his arms back over his waist again. Zaveriel's chest heaves for a breath, breathless giggles pouring from him like rain from a storm cloud, staring at the Power for any sense of movement on his part, any sense of more torture to come, vowing to himself that he'll be ready this time.

He smiles up at him. "Your sides are fun, I'll give Nis that, but me?" He turns his gaze down to his belly. "I like my belly. My adorable, ticklish, giggle filled belly." Zaveriel's giggles pick up lightly and he presses his hands over his belly, trying to protect it from any tortures, and it makes the Power chuckle. "NO! No! Stay away from my belly! Not my belly! Not again!" Puriel chuckles evilly, playfully, and slowly uncrosses his arms, gently curling his fingers around his wrists, pulling his hands away from his belly. Zaveriel shakes his head, his laughter picking up. "No! NO! You stay away! Stahahay awahahahay! Puahhahahauri! Puruahahahahuri! Nohohoho!"

"Puri isn't here right now, little angel," he lowers himself towards his free belly, shaking with laughter. "The tickle monster's here and he wants to tickle you."

Zaveriel throws his head back and screams with laughter when he takes a big breath and starts blow raspberries all over his belly, no breaks, no teasing in between, one right after another. He shakes his head, and the young angel's fingers flex, as he howls and cackles loudly.

He hears his door open, but he ignores it, blowing another raspberry against the young medics belly.

"Puri, we can hear you two all the way down the hall in the Lounge, you're going to kill the poor boy, that's enough." Zaveriel looks up at the new voice, squealing brightly as another raspberry's blown against his belly, reaching out for the one who stands in the doorway desperately. "Puri, I said that's enough." He goes ignored again, and this time he sighs, nodding in exasperation, uncrossing his arms, and stepped into the room. "Alright, if we're going to be that way, fine. The Medic needs a taste of his own medicine and reminded of who's in charge here."

Puriel yelps when two large hands curl around his ribs and fingers dig in deeply, he lets go of the young elects wrists to reach for the fingers digging into his ribs, and he yelps with laughter when he's tugged up and off the younger angel and settled between someone's legs. Arms curl around his chest, fingers digging into his ribs again, and he shrieks, folding back against someone's chest. "When I tell you to do something, you’d better do it." He shrieks with laughter when a bearded face buries itself into his neck.


	281. The Consequences Of Pranks (Raphael & Zaveriel)

**_AN: So, after all the sadness between Raph and Zaves, I decided that the mini arc of him leaving the Virtues with Ak and Ori is it’s own mini arc, and not included in the normal Lean On Me arc, because I can not find it in myself to actually separate Raph and Zaves, because they’re adorable together, and I can’t tear them apart._ **

He shrieks with laughter as he runs down the hall, away from his Archangel’s office, chancing a glance over his shoulder, shrieking again when he sees him turn the corner, making chase after him, and turns back around to focus on where he’s going, and turns the corner, darting up the stairs, laughing at the sound of his Archangel’s boots hitting the stone stairs as he chases him up. Breaking through the entry into the Loft, he ignores Constantine and Oren’s laughter when their Archangel follows behind him.

Zaveriel shrieks when arms curl around his waist, catching him up from behind, kicking out as he struggles to free himself, his Archangel’s deep laughter rumbling behind him. “So close, but so far away.”

“Raph! Raph, I’m sorry! I won’t do it ever again!”

“Now, we both know that’s a lie, you try and prank me, sometimes succeeding, at least once a week.” His eyes widen as he’s carried forward, slowly making their way down the hall, and he kicks anew, he knows what happens when he reaches the room at the end of the hall. “And, we also know that you’re not sorry, you apologize every time and promise to never attempt to get me again, and go on and try again and again.”

He braces his feet against the edges of the doorway, pushing himself backwards, he’s not going in there without a fight. His Archangel laughs again, and he yelps, as he’s thrown over his shoulder, dangling down his back, and the older angel walks into his room unperturbed.

Zaveriel doesn’t stop struggling, pounding his fists again the Healer’s back, squirming as he turns to close his door, kicking out when he sees him toe his boots off. A large hand pats his thigh. “Stop struggling so much. You’re not getting away. Your struggles are fruitless.”

“Like hell am I stopping!”

They pause in the middle of the room and he falls still, tensing at the sudden halt, ready for everything and anything.

The youngest Virtue squeals, jolting harshly, when fingers curl into his inner thigh and start kneading in, kicking out again to try and get those fingers away. His Archangel chuckles softly, stepping forward, and tugs him off from over his shoulder, Zaveriel shrieks as he falls, waving his arms, grunting as he bounces when he lands on the bed.

Raphael sits on the edge of his bed, reaching around to hold onto his youngest’s knee, pulls his leg open slightly, and reaches in, digging his fingers into the inner crease of his leg. It’s immediate, the young healer squeals, kicking his leg as best as he can.

“EEIEIEIEIAAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHAAHAAHAHAHAAAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA RAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAPH NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO EIEIEAIAIAAAHAHAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA! NOHOHOOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEREEIEAIAIIAAIAAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA GEHEHEHEHEHEHHEEHET OHOHOHOHOHOHOUT! GEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEEET OHOHOHOHOHOHOUT! RAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAPH! GEHEEHHEHEHEHEHEET THEHEHEHEHEHEEM OHOHOHOHHOUT AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAAA!”

He chuckles softly. “Call me _‘papa’_ and I’ll think about it.”

“PAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAPAPAPAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA PPPAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAPAPAPAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA PLEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEEEEASE! AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAAH AEEEIEIEIAIAIAAIAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAAA IHIHIHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAID IHIHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAHAID IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT! PAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAPAPAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEHEHEEEIIEAIAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAA! IHIHIHIHIIHII SAHAHAHAHAHAAID IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT!”

The Healer smiles down at him. “I love it when you call me that.” He pulls his leg out just a bit more and spiders his fingers up and down his inner thigh. “I said I’d think about it, and I have, I’ve decide against it.”

Zaveriel squeals again, building up his strength, it takes him a few moments, he claims duress under torture, and when he gathers enough, he throws himself forward, curling his arms around his Archangel’s neck, and tugs.

He yelps as the boy pulls him back and the youth laughs brightly. “Imma badass bitch! You can’t get me!”

“Oh, really?” The Archangel reaches over with his right hand, wiggling his fingers in the boy’s side, he shrieks with laughter. “I thought you said I couldn’t get you.”

The youngest Virtue curls his legs around his Archangel’s waist and pushes himself around, and breathes through his giggles, sitting on his Archangel’s stomach. “You can’t!”

Raphael laughs softly, looking up at him from his place on the bed. “Are you sure?” He reaches up, squeezing at his sides again, Zaveriel shrieks with laughter, arching his back, reaching around for his hands, pulling them away after a brief struggle, curling his fingers through his Archangel’s as they both grapple for the upper hand. “Positive!”

The Healer chuckles softly, puckering his lips, and Zaveriel giggles softly, as he has when he was a fledgling, and flops down on his chest to give him a kiss. His youngest smiles at him. “I love you, papa.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I love you too, my little one, very much.”


	282. Sent For Reprimanding (Thaddeus & Archas)

He lays on the table, restrained in position, staring up at the ceiling for a long couple of minutes, it’s been a good five minutes since he’d been dragged in here, laid on the table, his tunic pulled off, his boots removed with his socks, and restrained in this position. They’d said the Warden would be in for him in a few minutes, he doesn’t understand why the Warden would be involving himself in this matter, he was sent here to be punished, he wasn’t a prisoner, he wouldn’t think the Warden would want anything to do with that.

His eyes travel around the room, looking for the sharp instruments they’d use, his eyes skimming the walls around him as best as he can, going over a few tapestries, the torches that cast the warm glow lighting the room, the candles and garland decorating the mantle piece above the roaring fire in the fireplace, there’s a bucket down on the table at his feet, and he doesn’t know what that’s for. But he sees no torture devices, nothing intended to cause immense amounts of pain, and he starts to wonder on how he’s supposed to be punished if there was nothing in here to punish him with.

He turns when the door opens, and the Warden stands there, smiling at him a moment, before stepping in and closing the door behind him. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Thaddeus turns smiling at him as he crosses the room to stand at his side. “A few things came up that I had to take care of first. There was a bit of a riot. But, no worries, things have been handled.” He pokes him in the side, and he squeaks, leaning away from him. “Very nice, very nice reaction, I loved that squeak, there.” He continues to poke him in the side. “Okay, Archas, you naughty little angel you, why’d you do it?” The young trainee shrugs. “No, no sir, shrugging doesn’t work here, use your words.”

Archas licks his lips. “Because, they were being mean to my friend.”

“So you thought, instead of telling someone who would handle the situation appropriately, you thought you’d take matters into your own hands?” He nods lightly. “Nisroc understands, don’t worry, he’s not as upset with you as he is with your friend’s bully.”

“Then, why did he send me here to be punished?”

Thaddeus smiles at him, wiggling a finger in his side lightly, and he squeaks again, swallowing his giggles before they can escape. “Because, mister, you _burned_ all of their clothes. You can’t expect for that deed to be accepted.”

“But—”

“I know, I know, you did it for your friend, but, you also did it as an act of revenge. You were perfectly capable of going to Nisroc’s office and telling him what was happening, but you didn’t, you took revenge, and that, is unbecoming of a warrior in training.” He wiggles his finger under his lowest rib. “You’re lucky he sent you to me, he’d have taken a belt to you in front of your whole squadron, as an example.” Archas’s eyes widen. “Oh, yes, he’d have lashed you in front of all of them.” The Warden hums softly. “He’s been sending a lot of you naughty little angels to me in the last couple months, not that I mind, more people for me to play with, so I have no complaints.”

“P—Play with?”

“Oh, yea, I love playing with my prisoners, and, I love playing with the naughty little angels that get sent to me for comeuppance. Very fun, keeps me entertained, a bored Thaddy is a dangerous Thaddy.”

Archas gulps. “Dangerous?”

“Hey, calm down.” The older angel brushes his curls back. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not going to _hurt_ you.”

“B—But, you’re going to torture me.”

“Oh, yea, I’m gonna torture you _real_ good.” Thaddeus pats his cheek lightly. “But, that doesn’t mean I’m going to _hurt_ you.”

Archas stares up at him, and he smiles down at him, patting him on the belly as he turns, crossing down to his feet. “Now, before I can have my fun, I’ve got to clean you up just a bit.” He curls his fingers around the handle of the bucket and turns around to face him, setting the bucket on the table, between his feet. “You don’t mind if I clean you up a bit, do you?”

The young trainee shakes his head, staring down at him, to see what he’s going to do. Thaddeus nods, reaching into the bucket, pulling out two sudsy scrub brushes. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Archas tenses when the bristles of the brushes press to his soles.

Thaddeus smiles at the screams echoing around the room, bright peals of high pitched laughter echoing around them, looking down at the two feet before him, scrubbing viciously at their soles, he laughs softly as the young trainee screams, begging for someone to help him, and he shakes his head lightly. “No ones coming to help you, Archas, you’re all mine, for a whole hour.” He drops the one scrub brush back in the bucket, dips the one in his hand in the water, grabs hold of the left foot, and starts scrubbing just as viciously as before. Archas squeals again, trying to twist his foot around, but it’s held steady in place, screaming when he pulls his toes back to scrub over them too, giving them a good scrubbing, and shakes his head from side to side, kicking his leg as best as he can, before returning to his sole. “We’ll get you nice and clean.”

Archas screams when he moves over to the other foot, screaming and begging him to sob, and he pulls his toes back to scrub his toes again.

The Warden chuckles softly. “You want me to stop?” He reaches back in the bucket for the other brush and starts scrubbing both feet once again. “We’ve got another fifty minutes and so much to explore.”


	283. A Taste Of Your Own Medicine (Abraxos & Thaddeus)

“Well, we never thought we’d see ourselves in this position, now did we?” The Power circles around from the foot of the table, having strapped the other’s ankles in place, they tug at their binds, and he smiles at their struggles, tracing a finger up his leg lightly. “The Legendary Warden strapped down to his own table.”

“N—Now, Abe, l—let’s talk about this.” Thaddeus stammers, noting how much of a precarious position he’s in, tugging fruitlessly at his bindings, curse him and his need to have the best materials. “Y—You don’t want to d—do this.” He finds that his struggles and tugging is getting him nowhere. “L—Let’s think a—about this c—carefully.”

“Oh, I’m think about it, alright.” Abraxos comes to stand at his side, next to his belly, and strokes a circle around the left side of his belly. “I’ve been thinking about how long the claws are going to dig into this tummy.”

His eyes widen, not those, anything but those. “Abe, no, not those! Not the claws!”

“Oh, you’re getting some claws.” The second oldest Power raises his hands, holding them out over his belly, poising them precisely as they need to be poised. “You get all the claws.” And claws his fingers in.

“EEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAAHAHHAHAHHAHEEHEAAEAEEAAAEEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOSE! EEEIIEAIIAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAA AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAABBEEEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEEE NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHEAHEHEHEHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHHHAAHAHAHHHAAHHAAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAWS! EEIIEAIIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHAHHAHAHAHHA NOHOHOOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! EEIEIEIIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHAAAA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAA GEHEHEEHHEHEEET THHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEM OHOHOHOHOHOOOFF! PLEEEEHEHEHEHHEAHHAHAEHHAHAHAHAHHAASE! PLEHEHEHHEHEHAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAASE! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOO MOHOHOHOHORE CLAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAWS!”

Abraxos smiles down at the hysterical Warden. “The claws don’t want to leave just yet.”

 _“_ EEIEIEIEIEIIAIEAIAAAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAAEAEEAAEAAAEEEEAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA PAHAHHAHHAAPAPAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO CLAHAHAHAHAHAHAWS! EEIEIAIIAAIAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAAHAA EEEEIEIAIIAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOORE CLAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAWS! PAPA! PAHAHAHAHAPAPAAAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA EIIEIEIAIAIIIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAAAEAEAEAEAEAAEAEEAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOHOP! STOHOHHOHOHOOP! IEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAAA STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! NOHOHHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEEHHEE CLAHAHAHAHHAHAAWS! IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIHIT! EEIEAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAAHAHHAAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA EEIEIEIIAIAIAHAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAA PAHAHAHHAAPAPAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHHEHEEEASEEEIEIAIIAAIAAAHHAHHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAAA PLEEHHEHEHEHEHHEEASE!”

The Power chuckles, lifting his hands, wiggling his fingers threateningly, the Warden a giggling mess under him. “No more claws?” Thaddeus shakes his head quickly. “How about some flutters?” He flutters his fingers over his left armpits and the younger angel shrieks, shaking his head from side to side, flexing his fingers wildly. “Oh, that’s nice, let me get both of these here.” The older angel steps around the table to the head, and flutters his fingers over both armpits, and the younger angel squeals. “There, that’s much better. I could do this all afternoon, how’s that sound, little tickle monster, do you wanna spend the rest of your afternoon with your papa tickle monster?” Thaddeus doesn’t respond, too focused on the fluttering fingers in his armpits, and his squealing laughter. “I thought you would, too.”


	284. The First Incident (Abraxos, Hamaliel, Raphael, & Thaddeus)

The stand staring at each other, on with their hands on their hips, the other shaking like a leaf. He’d been through it once, he didn’t want to go through it again, it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t mean to, they’d called him a mean name and he couldn’t find papa, so he took matters into his own hands.

“But, papa!”

Abraxos shakes his head firmly. “Hamaliel, I want you to go to our room and stand in the corner until I come down.”

The youngling steps forward, tugging at his guardians tunic. “But, papa, he was being mean!”

“Hamaliel, now.”

He shakes his head, biting his lip, tugging on the Power’s top again. “But, papa!”

“Hamaliel, I’m going to give you to the count of three, if you’re not there by the time I reach three, we’ll start out here with a warm up and finish up in our room.” The youngling tugs on his tunic again. “One.”

“Papa, they were being mean!”

“Two.”

Hamaliel’s eyes widen and he turns, darting down the hall, tears streaming down his face. He doesn’t understand why he’s the one in trouble, they were the ones being mean to him, and he was the one in trouble. They probably didn’t even get scolded for it, they’d probably just been given a warning, and now he was going to get walloped because they were being mean to him.

Papa was going to take him over his knee, and he hadn’t even done anything wrong, they were being mean, _they_ were the ones who did something bad, not him, he didn’t mean to punch them, they were being mean to him and he _tried_ to be nice and asked them to stop, and then they got meaner, and papa was mad at _him_ for it.

 _They_ probably didn’t even get in trouble.

It’s not fair.

Hamaliel sniffles softly, turning to look down the hall to see if anyone was there watching, and sniffles again.

He wasn’t being fair. He didn’t do anything wrong. They started it.

He decides, in that moment, that he doesn’t like Abe anymore, because he’s unfair and he’s going to punish him for no reason. They were being mean, and they got what they deserved. He doesn’t want to stay here with Abe anymore, he didn’t want him to be his papa anymore, he….he wants Thaddy. Thaddy would make it better again. Thaddy would understand. Thaddy wouldn’t be unfair. Thaddy would know _they_ were the ones being bad and not him.

Looking down to the end of the hall once more, just to double check to see if someone was watching, he turns, running down to the other end of the hall, where they stairs that lead to the back end of the outside world were, they were usually gated, but he knew how to open the gate, and they led directly onto the Axis.

Jumping down the stairs, rubbing tears out of his eyes, he stands on his toes for the locking mechanism above him on the gate, pulls it out, and pushes the gate open, stepping out on the Axis, he closes the gate behind him, and turns, darting down the lane.

He doesn’t want unfair Abe to be his guardian anymore. He wants Thaddy to be his guardian now.

…

Thaddeus is surprised, and he admittedly _does_ jump slightly, when the door to his office is thrown open roughly. A teary eyed crying ex-prisoner standing in the doorway, though it had been some time since they’d seen each other, he’d recognize his little marshmallow anywhere.

He sets his pen down, rising from his chair, and crosses out from behind his desk quickly, fearing the worst. “Hama, what’s wrong, did something happen?”

Hamaliel sobs into his hand, rushing forward, colliding into the older angel. It forces him back a step, but he still curls his arms around the youngling, holding him tight and close as he sob’s into his stomach. Leaning over his head, he closes his office door, before turning his attention down to his favorite little marshmallow. “Hama?” He rubs a hand down the back of the boy’s head. “What happened, little one?”

“I—I don’t wanna stay with Abe anymore! I w—wanna stay with you now!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you want to stay with Abe anymore, I thought you loved being with him.”

Hamaliel pulls away slightly, his eyes bloodshot and puffy from all his tears, and he rubs the tears away with the fingers of his right hand, they don’t belong there. “I—I did, b—but not anymore! H—He’s being unfair! H—He was gonna s—spank me and I didn’t d—do anything wrong!” He sobs softly. “T—They were the ones b—being mean! I—I asked them n—nicely to stop, b—but then th—they got m—meaner!”

Thaddeus cradles the back of his head gently. “Who was being mean, little one?”

The youngling rubs his nose with the back of his right hand. “T—The tr—trainee! T—They were c—calling m—me mean n—names because—because my b—b—belly’s big! I—I—I tried to find A—Abe but I—I—I couldn’t and h—h—he wouldn’t s—stop e—e—even though I—I asked n—n—nicely _twice_!”

He sighs softly. “What did you do, Hama?”

Hamaliel stares up at him, as through trying to determine if he’s going to be as unfair as Abe was supposedly being, and he shakes his head, he’s not, he’s an understanding kind of guy, and Hamaliel knows that, or else he wouldn’t have thought to come here. “I—I—I punched h—him.”

“Hamaliel,” he shakes his head again, a tad firmer. “You can’t just punch people.”

“B—But they w—w—were being me—mean to m—me!”

“I understand that,” Thaddeus rubs his nose with a finger. “But that doesn’t mean you can punch them. You need to turn the other cheek, I _know_ it’s hard, _especially_ if they hurt your feelings, but you need to tell an adult, any of them, Abe, Nis, Puri, Tus, Raha, or Sab. Any of them, and they’ll take care of it, you can’t just take matters into your own hands.”

Hamaliel stares at him in shock, pulling against his arms slightly, but he’s grip remains. “Y—You agree w—w—with Abe t—too!”

“Well, it depends.” The Warden brushes his finger down the youngling’s nose again. “It depends on the circumstance, you can’t just get away with punching someone, I’m sorry, on that aspect, I do agree with Abe.” He tugs him closer again when he tries to push himself free, and quickly moves on. “But, _but_ , Hama, _your_ punishment for doing so would depend on how _they_ were punished to. It’s all about fairness, I understand you were upset, and I understand they were being mean to you, but punching them is just as bad as them calling you names, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but them calling you names hurts you and you punching them hurts them, so you both did bad, so you both need to be punished, yes, I agree with Abe in that regard.” He scratches the back of his head soothingly. “But, it also depends on what their punishment was and maintaining the fairness between you both. If they got a tongue lashing, then you get a tongue lashing. If they got turned over someone’s knee, then you get turned over someone’s knee. Like I said, it’s about fairness, so if they get a tongue lashing and you get turned over someone’s knee, then I do agree with you, that’s being unfair. But until you know how they were punished for their actions, then you can’t necessarily assume Abe was being unfair, because you don’t know if they got turned over his or Nis’s knee too.”

“S—So, if they didn’t get in trouble, then I shouldn’t be in trouble either.”

Thaddeus shakes his head. “No, you both _should_ be in trouble for your actions. But, if they didn’t get punished, or their punishment wasn’t equal to the punishment you were going to get, then no, I don’t think you should be punished.”

Hamaliel presses himself closer. “Thaddy, I don’t want Abe to be my guardian anymore. I want you to be my guardian. Abe wasn’t listening. I tried to tell him that they were being mean and he said he’d count to three and if I wasn’t in the corner by the time he got to three that he’d spank me there and when he came down to our room too.”

He sighs softly, petting the back of the boy’s head. “Before we jump completely, let me talk to Abe and see what’s going on and what happened with your bully first. Abe really loves you, he really truly does, with his whole heart. And, you don’t know how your bully was punished, let’s not jump the ship completely just yet, even if you stay with me, if Abe tells me they were taken over someone’s knee, then I’ll take you over my knee too. Like I said, it all depends on how they were punished too.”

The youngling sniffles softly. “But, you’ll only spank me if they were spanked too.”

“Right, I’ll only spank you if they were spanked too, it’s all about fairness, and that would be fair.”

His little marshmallow nods lightly. “Okay, Thaddy.”

“Good,” the Warden rubs a hand down the back of his head gently. “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap, you could use one after getting all worked up, and in the meantime, Abe will undoubtedly come here to look for you, and I’ll talk with him and find out what the news is.”

Hamaliel nods again. “Okay, Thaddy, I love you.”

“I love you too, little marshmallow.”

…

“Abe, take it easy on the little guy.” Puriel rubs his finger around the rim of his mug. “You remember how I was when people used to make fun of me for my big belly.”

Abraxos rubs a hand down his face. “I do, but _you_ never punched anyone, he did.”

Titus swallows his sip of coffee. “He didn’t, but I did.”

“Oh, I _know_ you did, you little terror.” The second oldest Power turns a look on the younger. “Most of them were too _scared_ of you, a small runt of thing, to say anything _you_ conceived to be an insult to your older brother.”

“They should have been.” Titus speaks into his mug. “Ain’t no one make my big brother cry. I’d beat the shit out of anyone who dared to.”

Nisroc smacks him over the head lightly in admonishment. “Watch your language.”

Rahatiel snorts into his mug and Sablo smiles in amusement and Titus glares at them both playfully.

“I’m just saying, Abe.” The medic continues. “He’s at that same stage I was when I was his age, completely sensitive about his weight, even the slightest offhand comment can be enough to tear him apart.”

The guards’ captain nods faintly. “From what I head about it, I’d have punched that jerk too.”

Rahatiel decides then to put in his input on the whole situation. “It’s all about fairness. One can’t be punished more then the other, of it seems like you’re saying one action is worse then the other, and that’s not a message you should spread.”

Hasmal nods in agreement. “If you punish Hama worse then the other boy was punished, then that’s sending the message that body shaming is okay while punching someone in defense isn’t, and that’s not the message you should instill in someone, especially to Hama, who already feels out of place.”

Abraxos looks up at his second youngest Elect. “He feels out of place?”

Puriel’s Returned Elect nods. “We talk a lot. He says he feels out of place because he’s surrounded by tall fit men and he’s small and rounded. Even though Puri has the same body type as he does, though he’s taller obviously, no one would dare make fun of him now, because he’s a Power, and well, let’s be honest, anyone outside of our little fold thinks we’re terrifying. That goes the same for Sablo and Raha. They both remember being made fun of when they were younger because of their weight, but no one would dare do it now, because they’re Powers too. So that leaves only one person to take the insults people have for the three of them but are too scared to say them to their faces and the insults of bullies.”

Nisroc hums softly and Abraxos stares at him. “He never told me that.”

“He doesn’t tell you everything. I told him to tell you, but he said no, he didn’t want to seem like a burden and a crybaby, his words, not mine. He confides in me a lot, I know a few secrets, that I _won’t_ divulge because that’s not my place.” The fire bender takes a sip from his hot chocolate. “I think he comes to me because I’m so quiet and don’t talk a whole lot.”

“That’s most certainly concerning and something that should be addressed immediately,” Abraxos sighs softly, rubbing at his temple. “But, that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be reprimanded for punching him.”

Sablo nods. “And, we agree, it’s like Raha said, it’s all about fairness. You don’t want to send the wrong message, because even though you’re punishing both in private, you know word is going to spread about it, and if the message you send is that body shaming is wrong, but not as wrong as it is to punch someone in defense, then that’s going to open a whole new can of worms.”

“It was hardly a defensive attack.”

Sablo shakes his head. “Oh, but it was, words can hurt just as bad as physical wounds, if not worse. Physical wounds can be tended to by Puri or Raph, but words can have a lasting impact, one that is not so easy to heal, not even by Raph, and he’s the Archangel of Healing, so if he’s going to struggle with healing mental wounds, then you know it’s worse, more so then anything physically obtained.”

Puriel nods in agreement. “It all just depends on how they were punished.” He turns to their Captain. “How about it, Nis, how did you deal with them?”

Nisroc hums into his drink as he takes a sip, and they wait a slight moment as he swallows and lowers his mug. “I have a three strike rule, the first two times are warnings, the third offence is when it gets hands on. I want to give them time to correct their behavior themselves before I step in physically and adjust it myself.”

Titus hums. “That seems unfair to me.” He looks over to the second oldest. “You were going to take him over your knee, while they got a mere warning. That’s _definitely_ sending the wrong message.”

“Yes, but they verbally assaulted him, and he physically assaulted them. In my opinion, one is worse the then the other, yes, bullying is wrong, but physically assaulting someone is worse.”

“I agree, my taking someone over your knee who was only defending themselves, while giving the bully a verbal warning is most certainly sending the message that bullying is fine, a minor offence, while sticking up for yourself is wrong, a major offense.” Rahatiel nods. “That message is going to only incite more bullying, and let’s be honest, none of it will be directed at us or the elder warriors, so there’s only one who’s going to be on the receiving end.”

“I understand, but I still maintain my opinion, we’re supposed to be teaching them to come to us when they’re wronged, not partake in physically assaulting someone.”

Puriel hums softly. “You should go talk to Raph and see what he has to say about it, he’s raised a number of younglings, more than anyone else I know, and that includes the other Archangels, he’s the one that they usually ask to take them when it comes to replacing young ones with other guardians when theirs isn’t found fit. He’d know more about what should happen and what message should be sent then the rest of us.”

Nisroc nods. “I agree with their opinion, but if you’re not sure, I also agree that you should talk to Raph. He’s something akin to a poster child of what a guardian should be.”

…

Raphael smiles at the Power sitting opposite of him in his office and folds his hands together. “What can I do for you, Abe?”

Abraxos rubs at his face lightly. “Nisroc says you’re the poster child of how a guardian should be.”

The Archangel snorts and shakes his head in fond amusement. “Okay, I take that as a compliment.” He nods lightly. “There’s something troubling you, how can I help?”

The Power sighs softly and lowers his hand. “You’ve raised quite a few younglings, you’re the one they ask for when they’re being reassigned to a new one, so I need your opinion.”

He nods faintly. “That’s true, I’ve raised quite a few, I’ve lost count. I wish I could take them all, but it’s just physically not possible for me, I do take time to visit them though, as Thaddeus does to the ones he releases.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms loosely. “What can I do to help you?”

Abraxos takes a moment. “My charge, Hamaliel, punched a trainee in the face.”

Raphael raises an eyebrow, of course, Thaddeus had told him about the incident, and about that youngling when he was still one of his prisoners. “I know about him, he doesn’t seem like the violent type, not if it’s not provoked. What happened?”

The Power nods. “He’s self-conscious about his weight. Someone was bullying him and he punched them in the face.”

He nods faintly. “I see, that’s most certainly a provoked attack, so he was being body shamed?”

“Yes,” the younger angel nods. “And he punched him in the face. In my opinion, physically assaulting someone needs to be punished more so then someone who verbally assaulted someone, words are just words, they’re harmless, they don’t leave marks, not like physically assaulting someone does.”

“I see,” the Archangel nods. “And, you want my honest opinion on the matter of how this situation should be dealt with, correct?”

Abraxos nods. “Yes.”

“Alright,” Raphael takes a moment before carrying on, as though searching for the right phrasing, and nods when he seemingly finds it. “In my opinion, your thought process is immensely wrong, words hold more power than anything physically obtained. Physical wounds can be healed with ease, it’s the mental ones that take time and intricate care, physical wounds may leave scars, but with time, those will fade. Words, mental wounds, a majority of them, cannot be healed, simply because it grows so large, consuming, and complex, it doesn’t remain as one wound, not like physical ones do. Mental wounds can branch into other inflictions; depression, anxiety, low self-esteem, flight or fight, PTSD, to name a few. In this specific case, body shaming, in my opinion, there are only three types of bullying that are the worst, ableism, racism, and body shaming. In the case of body shaming, in this instance of circumstance, can have physical side effects, such as nausea, chest tightness, lethargy, shrinking in on one’s self, diverting eye contact. And then, there’s the side effects of the stress it brings with it, stomach aches, tense muscles, headaches, crying, etc. Body shaming can lead to self-loathing, gradually convincing yourself what they’re saying is true, because why else would they be saying it so much. Self-loathing can lead to self-harming, and self-harming can lead to suicide being an option of escape. It can lead to eating disorders, binge eating, the consumption of high quantities of food, option as a poor coping mechanism. Anorexia, the fear of gaining weight, which can be obtained by deliberate starvation.” He nods firmly. “So, in my opinion, verbal assaults are much worse than physical assaults, in certain instances, in this case, comparing one punching the other in the face, and the other body shaming the one, I’d take up the notion that the one body shaming should be punished harsher then the one who threw the punch, because once that shamed person reaches rock bottom and starts seeking out ways to just get it to stop, there’s no bringing them back, and if you do, it is not an easy attempt, it is lengthy and hard.” The Archangel taps his arm with his fingers. “How were the two punished?”

Abraxos nods as he absorbs this information. “The one was given a verbal warning and I was going to take the other over my knee.”

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Raphael shakes his head. “No. If you give the one committing the worse of the two offenses a mere warning and physically punish the other, you’re telling the other, in this case, I’m assuming it’s Hamaliel, what you’re telling him is that you’re alright with the fact that he was being shamed for how he looks, while you don’t mind so much that the other was doing it, dare I say, you could go so far as to be telling him, in his opinion, that you’re approving it, in a way. You’re telling him that he’s wrong and the other was not. No. No. No. If you take him over your knee and he finds out the other got away with a mere verbal warning, and trust me, he _will_ find out, word spreads over that training field like a wild fire, it’ll turn to resentment, hate, and pushing away from you, and I know how much you love him, so, as fair warning, if he pushes away from you, there’s no getting him back, he’ll be gone.”

…

He’d been a mess when he’d found that Hamaliel wasn’t in their room, where he was supposed to be, and had started searching frantically for him, going through all of their rooms, through the washroom, the guards rooms below them, and buried his hands in his hair when he didn’t turn up anymore.

It had been Nisroc who suggested he go see if he was with Thaddeus.

“Thaddy,” the Warden looks up from his paperwork as his office door opens and the second oldest Power rushes in. “Is Hama here?” He breathes a large sigh of relief when the Warden nods mutely, shuffling through his paperwork and setting it aside, giving him his full attention. “Is he okay?”

“What do you think, Abe?” Thaddeus leans back in his chair. “He says he doesn’t want you to be his guardian anymore.”

Abraxos stares at him and he can practically see his heart breaking, it’s no secret how much the second oldest Power loves his youngest boy, everyone knows it, absolutely everyone. “He doesn’t…..”

The Warden shakes his head. “No, he doesn’t, he asked if I could be his guardian.”

He swallows thickly, everyone knows that when the Warden surrenders one of his young prisoners to a new guardian, it’s in his right to take them back, until another suitable guardian is found.

He usually gives the particularly stubborn ones and those who misbehave more then not to Raphael, he was a way with the young ones, he’ll get them taken care of.

It was well within Thaddeus’s power to take Hamaliel away from him.

The Power swallows. “What….What did you say?”

He hums. “That you love him with all your heart and that I’d talk to you about it.” He nods slightly. “He’s upstairs. I haven’t heard any movement, so he’s either sleeping, or reading a book on my bed.” Thaddeus looks him over. “What’s your temperament?”

Abraxos sits in one of the chairs opposing him and sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I’m new to this whole youngling rearing thing, the boys that I take in are already in training, they’re training to become Powers, and we hold them to certain expectations.”

“I understand that, Abe.” The Warden nods lightly. “But _that_ boy _isn’t_. He’s a youngling, who’s old guardian was less then pleasant, he needs to be raised, he’s not a warrior in training, he’s not an Elect, he’s a boy who needs guidance and love, and I know you can provide both.” He leans forward slightly. “I know if he were your Elect that your punishment would have been justified, you’re right, no matter the circumstance, it’s unbecoming of a Power to lose their temper like that. But, he’s not an Elect, he’s not training to become a Power, and you _can’t_ treat them the same, you can’t hold Hama to the same expectations that you would one of your Elects.” Thaddeus leans back again. “What he did was wrong, and that I understand, but he’s young, and that’s how younglings react when they’re bullied. Don’t even get me _started_ on Jahoel. It’s about fairness and what’s appropriate.”

“Thaddy, I don’t want to lose him.” The older angel sighs and rubs at his forehead. “I love him with all my heart and I don’t want to lose him.”

“Then, you need to talk to him.” Thaddeus raises his voice slightly. “Sabrathan!” The door opens behind him. “Go get Hama and bring him down.” The door closes.

They wait a few minutes, and then the door opens again, a pause, and closes once more.

Hamaliel appears beside him, and he tries to make eye contact, but the boy refuses, sitting in the chair next to him mutely, staring at the Warden in front of them.

Thaddeus smiles at him. “Have a nice nap, Hama?”

The youngling nods, rubbing at his eyes, to clear away the grains of sleep. “Yea, Thaddy, it was good.”

The Warden smiles at him fondly, and nods to the Power beside him. “Abe wants to talk to you, do you think you can hear him out?” Hamaliel spares the Power a glance before returning his attention to the Warden, and shakes his head, he doesn’t want to. “Come on, Hama, just listen to what he’s got to say, what’s the harm?”

Sighing, the youth nods, turning to look at the Power, and Abraxos smiles at him slightly. “Hama…Hama, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been willing to punish you so harshly when you were being bullied. I should have listened to you and treated you better. You shouldn’t have punched him in the face, and I shouldn’t have considered taking you over my knee for it, what he did was much worse then what you did, and I know it is. I love you with all my heart, Hama, I’m new to this whole youngling raising thing, I’m going to make some mistakes. Can you find it in yourself to forgive me and come back home?”

Hamaliel stares at him mutely for another moment before turning his attention back to Thaddeus.

The Warden smiles at him softly. “What about it, Hama, can you forgive him and go back home with him?”

The youngling stares at him for a minute too before shaking his head. “I wanna stay with you, Thaddy.”

Thaddeus sighs softly, he can almost _feel_ Abraxos’ world crumbling, his heart shattering, and he sees his entire person sag from the corner of his eye. “Hama, he really loves you, with every fiber of his being, he made a mistake, he’s not perfect, you’ve made your own mistakes, do you think you can give him another chance?”

“Hama, please.” He turns at his name, and stares at the Power, kneeling at his side, his fingers curled over the armrest of his chair. “Please, little one, I’m so sorry. I was wrong.” Hamaliel stares into his watering eyes, Abe’s crying, Abe shouldn’t cry, he’s big and strong and brave. “I’m so sorry, little hummingbird, I’m so, so sorry. Please give me another chance, please Hama, just one more chance.”

Hamaliel stares at him for a long moment. “Can we make a chocolate cake?”

Thaddeus snorts and shakes his head in fond amusement.

Abraxos’ laughs softly, a choked laugh, he’s holding back tears. “The _biggest_ chocolate cake.”

The youngling smiles at him. “Okay, Abe, I forgive you, I still wanna be your little hummingbird.” He slides out of his chair, before the kneeling Power, and buries himself in his chest, feeling his arms wrap around him. “I love you, Abe, I’m sorry I punched him.”

“It’s alright, little hummingbird.” He curls his hand around the back of the boy’s head as he curls around him. “I love you too, Hama, very, very much. Hama, can you try to come find one of us if this happens again, try not to punch them.”

“Yea, papa, I can do that.”

Thaddeus smiles at them, turning back to his paperwork, if they wanted to stay there, that was fine, they could do whatever.


	285. That One Kid From Solitary (Thaddeus & Manakel)

It had been a heat of the moment kind of thing, trying to make his escape while the door to his block was cracked, the guard that had just come in not thinking to close it behind him, as it would automatically lock once it was closed, merely on the notion of just not wanting to take the moment of time it would take to unlock it as he made his leave, was all it took for him to slip out and make his way down the hall for the exit. The sound off boots pounding behind him only made him run faster, he was so close, it was just right there, the door that led to his freedom.

He yells when arms catch him around the waist, tugging him back, swinging him off of his feet. He doesn’t know who’s captured him, they caught him from behind, he can’t see their face, but a guard is making their way down the hall towards them, a voice rumbles behind him as the one holding him orders the guard to take him down to the chamber, he recognizes that voice, he knows _who’s_ caught him.

He doesn’t struggle as he’s passed over from one to the other, and the guard carries him back down the hall, to the chamber at the end, he struggles slightly, kicking and flailing, the guard grunts softly, but their grip remains firm, there’s no chance for escaping this, what’s coming his way, and he continues to struggle as the guard drops him on the table, struggling slightly himself as he raises his arms to strap his wrists down, struggling only slightly, but not inhibited as he moves down for his ankles. He kicks at him, and the guard grunts again when he catches him in the face, gripping the offending foot’s ankle tightly, he slams it down, a slight twinge of pain shoots up his leg, but quickly fades, as his ankle in strapped down, before he moves on to the other.

The guard stokes the fire, folds his tunic up to rest on the table at his feet, his boots to rest next to it, stokes the fire once more, and makes his leave, closing the metal door behind him.

He waits for a few tense minutes, expecting his torturer to come for him, but after approximately five minutes, he lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding onto and relaxes, looking about the room, it’s practically bare, there’s the fireplace, candles and garland decorate the mantle piece for the holiday season, there’s a tapestry on the wall behind the table at his feet with a crest on it, the Warden’s crest, beyond that, the rooms practically clear.

What feels like another five minutes passes and he raises his gaze up to the ceiling.

_What’s taking so long?_

The door creaks as it’s pushed open. “Manakel, Manakel, Manakel,” the Warden steps inside carrying a bucket, and turns slightly to close the door behind him, before turning back to him and walking forward to stand at his side. “You tried to make an escape, you broke the lock on your cell, waited for the opportunity, and tried to make your leave.”

The Solitary prisoner licks his lips. “I almost made it.”

Thaddeus smiles down at him and shakes his head. “You had no breath of a chance of getting away.”

“I would have been long gone.”

“And, I would have sent the hounds after you, you’d have been brought back.” He pats him on the belly lightly. “My apologies, I was reading through your file and completing the paperwork your escape attempt forced on me, something of which I do not appreciate, thank you very much, for the extra work, it was great.” The Warden hums softly. “Anyway, like I said, I was reading through your file, you’re behavior has made a complete turnaround since you were moved into Solitary a little over a year ago, seeing as to your continued good behavior, I’m going to move you to general population, so long as you keep up the good behavior.”

Manakel smiles up at him. “Really?”

The older angel nods mutely. “Really, I’m having a guard move your things as we speak.” He looks him over. “While we take care of some things ourselves.” He shakes his head softly and leans over for the bucket he’d brought with him, lifts it from the floor, and walks down the edge of the table. “So, I thought, since you made a runner, and it appears that you weren’t wearing any socks, from what the guard told me, that you’re feet might be a bit stinky.” He sets the bucket on the table between his legs. “And, I thought to myself, I’d be more then happy to give these feet a good scrubbing, can’t have you going to a new cell with stinky feet, now can we.” Manakel doesn’t quite understand, watching as he pulls out a soapy scrub brush from within the bucket, tilting his head when he curls a finger around his big toe, pulls back, and presses the bristles of the brush to his sole. “So, let me lend you a hand.”

Manakel screams when he starts scrubbing at his foot, kicking his leg as best as he can, twisting his foot from side to side. “EEIEIIEAIIAIAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! EEIEIAIAIAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAEAEAEEEHHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO STOHOHOHOHOHOOP AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHHOOHOHOHOHOHO AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AEEHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE! EEEIIEAIIAAAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA STOHOHOHOHOHOP STOHOHOHOHOHOP! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAAAA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAA AEEIEIAIIAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAAA THAHAHAHAHHAHADDYYYYY! EEIEIAIIAIAAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE BRUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUSH! IHIHIHIHIHIHIT’S CLEHEHEHEHEHEHEAN! AAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAAA EEIIEIIAIEIAIEAIAAHAHAAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAAA AEEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAAHHAHAA HEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEELP! AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA SOHOHOHOHOOMEOHOHOHOHONE HEHEHEHEHEHELP! EEIEIAIAIAIAAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHAHAHAHHHAHAAHAHA HEHEHEHEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHEHHEHEE! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHEEEAEAEAHAAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAA!”

Thaddeus chuckles softly to himself, turning to the other foot, scrubbing anew. “Why do they always call for help?” He lathers the brush up once more and returns to his scrubbing. “You’d think I was _torturing_ them or something.” He looks up at his hysterical prisoner. “No one’s coming to help you, Mana, you’re all alone with me, to do whatever I please to.” He looks back down at the foot in his possession, pulling the toes back to scrub under them. “I’m going to pay special attention to these feet, and I need them to be clean, see if you ever decide to pull a runner again after this.”

Manakel shakes his head quickly, from side to side, bouncing in place as he kicks his other leg as much as he can. “AAAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA EEEEIEIIAIEAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP EEIEIAIAIAHAHHAAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA NOHHOHOHOHOHOHOO MOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOOREEEEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEEHEHEHE TOHOHOHOHOES EEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHHOT NOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOHOSE NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE TOHOHOHOHOES EEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIT AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!”

The Warden drops the brush back in the bucket and leans over to set it behind him on the table, before turning back around, scratching at his wet soles lightly with his fingernails, the prisoner’s squeals fade out into shrieky giggles. “I don’t believe you’ve ever come to the chamber, have you, Mana, no, I don’t think you have.” He scratches at the arches of his feet with his index fingers, and the prisoner shrieks brightly, shaking his feet, jerking them one way and another, trying to get away from the scratching. “The first time’s always the worst, don’t worry, I’m _not_ going to go easy on you.” He moves up to scratch at the balls of his feet and Manakel shrieks again. “We’re going to be here for a while, I’ll let you have breaks, don’t worry, but I’ve got to explore, see what there is to work with.” He looks down at the two feet he’s working on. “These feet are most certainly bad, aren’t they?” Manakel nods frantically, giggling brightly, his feet twitching under his gentle scratching. “I thought so, let’s see where else you’re sensitive.” He moves up the side of the table. “Under the knees?”

Manakel shrieks with giggles when he reaches under and scratches lightly under his knee, drumming his legs as best as he can. “Nohohohoho! Eeehehehehhehehehee stohohohohhooop! Geheheheheet ohohohohohout oohohohohof theheheheere! Eeehaahahahahhahaha! Thahahahahhaaddy! Eehehehhehhehee geheheheheet awahahahahay frohhohohohom theheheheheere!”

“No, I like it here.” He reaches over for the other knee. “How about under here, too?”

The prisoner shrieks again, kicking his legs as best as he can, shaking his head frantically. “Eehehehehehhehe eehehehehhehehehhee Thahahahahahaddy nohohohohoho gehehehehehehheet ohohohohohohout ohohohohoof thehehehehehere! Eeehehehaeahhahhahahahahaha aahahahahahahahahhaa eehehehehehehhehehe eeeehehehehehehhehehehe nohohohoot thehehehehehere nohohohohot thhehehehehehereehehehehee! Thahahahahhahahaaddyyyy eehehehhehehehehhehe eeeeehehehehehehehehhehehehee plehehehehehheeease eeehehehehhehehehehehehe nohohohohohot thehehehehehehehere! Nohohohot thehehehehehhere! Eehhehehehehehhehehee eahahahahahahahaha plehehehehehehease! Eehehehhehehehhehee nohohohohohot thehehehehehehere!”

“Oh, someone’s sensitive under their knees,” he steps over a bit more. “How about these thighs?” Manakel shrieks loudly and clenches his legs together. “Oh, I liked that reaction, that makes me think someone has some sensitive thighs.” Thaddeus tugs on his leg. “Open up.” The prisoner shakes his head frantically. “Open up, Mana.” He shakes his head again, straining against the tugging on his leg, and bites his lip. “One last chance, Mana, open your legs.” Manakel shakes his head again. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He reaches under his leg and digs a finger in that one really bad spot that he’s been finding on almost everyone, well, everyone he’s had the pleasure of torturing.

His prisoner screeches, lifting from the table completely, he follows after him, wiggling his finger in deeply. He drops to the table with a heavy thud and bounces wildly, clenching up tightly, before his muscles give out. “EEEEEEIEIEIEIIAIAIEAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA EEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAA AAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA! THAHAHAHAHAHAHHAADDYYYYYY NOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEEHEERE EEIEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAA AAAAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAA AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA EEIEIIEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAA GEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEET IHIHIHHIHIHIT OHOHOHOHOHOUT! GEHEHEHEHEHEEET IIHIHIHIHIHIHIT OHOHOHOHOHHOUT! EEEIIEIAIIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAA AAAAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA IHIHIHIHIHIHIT’S BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD THEHEHEHEHEHEHEERREEIEIEIEIAIAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA!”

Thaddeus smiles. “I’ll stop, but you better open your legs.”

Manakel jerks his legs open, thinking he’ll get a moment of reprieve, and screeches again when he digs his fingers into the inner crease of his thigh. “EEEEIEIEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHHHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO EEIIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AEEIIEIAIAAIAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAA AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH AEEEIEIAIIAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAA EEEEEIEEIIEIEIAIEIIAAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAE EIIEIEIAEIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA! THAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAAADDDYYYYY AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IEIIEIEAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAA STOHOHHOOHOHOHOHOHOP! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! EEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAA MIHIHIHHIHIHIHINUTE! IHIHIHIHI NEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEEED AHAHAHAHAHAHAA MIHHIHIHIHIIIIHIHIHINUTE! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! EEEAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA THAHAHAHAHHAAADDYYY PLEHEHEHEHHEEEASE! BREHEHEHEHHEHEHEAAK BREHEHEHHAHAHAAK PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE!”

It’s relieving when he stops, leaving him panting for a breath, and he slowly gets his giggling under control. Thaddeus smiles down at him, leaning against the edge of the table, tapping his fingers on the side. “You know, I should keep going, seeing as to how you tried to make a run for it, but,” he pokes him on the nose. “You’re cute, and I think you’ve had enough, so now we’re going to go take a nap.”

Manakel tilts his head. “We?”

“Yep, we,” he looks up as he unstraps his wrists and watches him cross around to his ankles to do the same. “I’m feeling up for a nap myself, and me, I like to cuddle people when I’m napping, and unfortunately for you, you’re my cuddle buddy for this nap.”

He sits up slowly, leaning back on his hands, watching the older angel cross back around the side of the table, leaving his shirt and boots on the other table, and comes to rest between his legs. “You want to cuddle up and take a nap with me?”

Thaddeus nods, leaning against the side of the table. “Is that a problem, because if you’re not comfortable with it, you can come take a nap in my office and I can work on some paperwork while you sleep.”

“No, no,” Manakel shakes his head. “It’s just….No one ever just wants to cuddle up and take a nap with me.”

“Oh, little angel,” he squeaks when he’s scooped up off the table and into the Warden’s arms. “I see lots of cuddle naps in your future, you’re my new official cuddle buddy now, whenever I want to take a nap, you’re the one I’m coming for.”

He smiles lightly. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about cuddly naps!” Thaddeus turns them around for the door. “Those are the most important kind of naps, the best kind, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s naps.”

Manakel smiles, leaning forward tentatively to rest his head on his shoulder, and when he receives no reprimand or resistance, he relaxes, the tension falling away.

He’s never been in the Warden’s quarters before, it’s a large room, not too large, but large. There’s a large wardrobe along the one wall, a fireplace burning lowly on the other, the bed is big, it’s huge, with lots of pillows and blankets that look like they’re fluffy and soft, the bed is close to the fireplace, probably placed there for optimum warmth, on the other side of the room is the entrance to the washroom, the light in there is dim, probably because it’s not being used, there’s a desk with a lamp, the desk is messy.

The torches on the walls flare into life when they enter, and he smiles when he’s set down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands over the blankets to see if they were as soft and fluffy as they looked and they are, super soft and super fluffy.

Thaddeus smiles at him for a moment, and turns to close the door, toeing off his boots carefully. “So, how do you like to sleep, what do you wear when you sleep?”

Manakel brushes his long curls out of his face and blushes. “I just like sleeping in my shirt.”

“Understandable,” the Warden nods and turns to his wardrobe, pulling the door open, and reaches inside. “It’s cold, so we’ll get you something warm to wear.” He pulls out a sweater and looks it over for a moment before turning to him. “Here, feel this, does this feel fluffy and soft to you?”

He reaches out slowly to feel the sweater being held out to him and nods lightly. “Yea, it does.”

Thaddeus nods, taking it off the hanger, and tosses it over at him. “Here, little guy, put that on, make yourself comfortable. I’m feeling a long winter’s nap at the moment, so I want you to be comfortable, I have no work to do, it’s almost time for the end of the day, a few hours before supper and such.”

Manakel nods, standing to slip the warm fluffy sweater over his head, his arms through the long sleeves, and carefully tugs his trousers off, handing them to the older angel when he holds his hand out for them, watching him toss them into the hamper. “So, you have to stay in your cell until the end of your sentence, you’ve got another month to go—”

He blinks in surprise. “What, bu—”

The older angel winks at him. “I talked to Nisroc, he agreed, you’ve been behaving really well, we think you’re ready. Anyway,” he turns away to toss his socks in the hamper with his pants. “Like I said, you have to stay in your cell for the duration of your sentence, unless I bring you out, and I will, because like I said, you’re my naptime cuddle buddy now, but once your sentence is up, you’ll be coming up to stay with me, we’ll have to share a bed I’m afraid, my other kids don’t want anyone else coming into their room, they say it’s already packed in there, and Theo took the spare room with Ion, so it’s you and me in here, pal.”

Manakel stares at him. “ _What_?”

Thaddeus nods, perhaps he should have brought this up differently. “Well, seeing as you’re still technically a minor, which is where you would have been placed if you hadn’t,” he shakes his head. “That’s not important, anyway, seeing as to how you’re still a minor, you need a guardian to officially be a free man, and, unfortunately, because of your past, I wasn’t able to find anyone who would take you in.” He steps forward when the youth looks down at his feet sorrowfully and ruffles his curls fondly. “So, I’ll take you, you little scamp.”

He looks up at him in an instant, the sorrow in his expression completely gone. “Really!”

“Really, I can’t very well go out and search for a new cuddle buddy, now can I?” He points to the head of the bed. “Now, you get under the blankets, get nice and warm, I’ll stoke up the fire, and be right in with you.”

Manakel smiles at him in a way he hasn’t seen in his entire stay with him as his prisoner, and it both warms and breaks his heart, but he doesn’t give any indication to either feeling, watching the youth turn and crawl up the length of the bed and climb under his blankets.

Shaking his head, he smiles, stepping around to the fireplace, tosses in a few new logs, stokes the embers just the right way, and watches for a moment as the flames come to life as they bite into the new thick logs, before turning for his bed.

The youth watches him as he pulls the blankets back and slides in on his side, resting on his side, he pulls the blankets back around and stares back at him. “Is it okay if I pull you in close?”

Manakel nods, and he smiles, reaching out for him, pulling him into his arms, to rest against his chest, and he sighs softly as the tension leaves the youth and he melts against him. He feels a small hand curl into the front of his own sweater and rubs the youth’s back gently. “See, cuddle buddy, it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“I like it,” the young prison intones softly, nodding against his chest, cuddling closer. “You’re warm, I like it, it feels good.”

“Good, I’m glad you like it.” He rests his chin on his curls. “What should we have for supper?”

“I thought you said I had to stay in my cell.”

Thaddeus nods. “Unless I bring you out, and you, my poor cuddle deprived cuddle buddy, are staying with me so I can smother you with cuddles, for a few days, I’m going to give you as many cuddles as I can, because you’ve been deprived of their greatness.”

Manakel smiles lightly, closing his eyes, he’s warm, he likes the feeling of the Warden’s arms wrapped around him. “I’d like that, cuddle buddy.”

…

He’s on his feet in an instant when he arrives, his keys in hand, it was a long month, they’d cuddled and napped together for the first four days, and then he had no other choice then to send him back down to his cell, so nobody got the suspicions that he was picking favorites, because he doesn’t do that, he loves them all equally.

Manakel bounces in place, his small bag hanging over his shoulder with his little knick-knacks and trinkets he’d collected while locked in here for the last two years, he’s ready, he’s more then ready.

Thaddeus laughs when he opens the cell door and the youth bounces across his cell and jumps at him, he turns slightly as he catches him, lifting him up higher, to make carrying him less uncomfortable and stabilize his grip, he doesn’t want to drop him. “Someone’s excited.”

“Cuddle buddy,” Manakel wraps his arms around his new guardian’s neck as he leans forward to lock the cell door back in place. “Can we cuddle, I really want some cuddles, it’s been _so_ long since I had them last, I almost forget what they feel like.”

The Warden laughs again, curling his arms under the youngling as he turns away from the cell, and carries him down the hall. “It’s only been, what, twenty-four days?”

“That’s a long time, cuddle buddy!”

“I suppose it is a long time.” He shakes his head as he makes his way upstairs. “Well, usually I release people in the morning, but I waited for you, until the end of the business day, so we could cuddle uninterrupted, the others are already fed and in bed, you ate supper already, I ate supper already, so it’s just us little guy, and all the cuddles you want.”

“Really!”

“I’d never lie about cuddles, you know that.” He pats him on the back as he turns into their room and closes the door with his heel. “Do you want to wear one of my sweaters or your own pajamas?”

“One of your sweaters!”

“Alrighty,” Thaddeus leans over to set him on the edge of their bed. “Here, let me take that.” He takes the small bag from him and crosses over to set it on his desk before crossing back over to his wardrobe. “Big fluffy one?”

Manakel bounces lightly. “Yea, big fluffy one!”

“Okay, here you go, big guy.” He tosses the sweater over his shoulder at the boy, listening to him giggle softly, smiling at the sound, as he changes into his sweater. “Get under the blankets, little cuddle buddy.” He changes himself, into flannel pajamas, it’s the middle of December, it’s cold, despite the blazing roaring fire, and turns around. “Ready for some cuddles, little cuddle buddy?”

The youngling nods happily, and he shakes his head fondly, jumping forward. Manakel shrieks and curls up when he throws himself at him, laughing brightly when he lands, climbing under the blankets, curls his arms around him, and turns them over. The youth sighs, nodding against his belly, grabbing one of his hands to curl up under his nose, and he buries the fingers of his other hand in his curls to scratch at his head lightly. “Welcome home, little cuddle buddy.”


	286. My Favorite Birthday Gift (Abraxos & Hamaliel)

Puriel winks at him, smiling lightly. “My gift is in your room.”

Abraxos raises an eyebrow at the implications of that statement, and pushes his chair back, rising from his seat, and walked around the table for the hall that leads him down to his room. He curls his fingers around the door handle, turning slightly, and pushes the door open cautiously.

His little charge looks down at him, trapped in place, undoubtedly from the Medic’s grace, topless, with a big red bow wrapped around his tummy. “Papa, tell him to let me go! This isn’t fair!”

He can’t help it, he laughs, as he enters his room, and closes the door behind him. Crossing the threshold of his room, he climbs up over the foot of his bed, and crawls forward to settle himself over his youngest boy’s legs.

“Papa! No! Tell him to let me go!” Hamaliel yelps out and squirms as best as he can with the grace holding his arms above his head. “He’s being mean!”

Abraxos chuckles softly in amusement. “I’ll admit, he took my request to heart, when he asked me what I wanted for my birthday.”

The youngling falls still. “What did you say you wanted?”

He smiles at the youth, wiggling a finger in his tummy, just under the red bow, smiling at younglings giggles. “An adorable chubby little tummy.”

“Papa! Why me!”

The Power smiles at him. “Because, he thought you had the most adorable chubby little tummy.” He slowly unties the bow around the youngling’s tummy. “And, I have to say, this is the most adorable little chubby tummy I’ve ever seen.” He sets the two ends of the bow down and pokes at the chubby little tummy, making the youngling giggle brightly. “Just look at it, it’s perfect for what I wanted that adorably chubby tummy for, absolutely perfect for it.”

“Papa! I didn’t get to have any supper, or any cake and it was _chocolate_ cake and that’s my _favorite_!”

“Don’t you worry, my little munchkin, papa saved you a nice sized plate of supper and two good pieces of chocolate cake.”

“Thanks, papa, you’re the best.” Hameliel giggles brightly. “What’d you want a chubby tummy for?”

Abraxos smiles at him, and wiggles his two fingers beside his belly button, and the younger angel shrieks brightly. “Tickles.” And, claws his fingers in.

The youngling squeals brightly, arching his back, kicking his legs as best as he can. “EEEIEIAIAIIAAAAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA APAPPAAAAAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO! EEIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ANOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHHAHAHAHAWS! EEIEIEAIAIIAAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHE CLAHAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! EEIEIEIAAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAEEEEAAEAEAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA PAHAHAHAAPAPAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEE CLAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAWS! NOHOHOHOHOT THOHOHOHOHOSEEE! EEIEIEIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHEHEEHEAEAEHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA THEHEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAWS NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEE CLAHAHAHAHAHHAHAWS! EEEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHHAHAHAAHAHAHHAAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE!”

He giggles feverishly when the claws pull away.

"Look at this tummy." He wiggles his index fingers on either side of his belly button, and his little hummingbird shrieks softly, squirming from side to side, trying to pull his belly out from under him. "What's not to love?" He claws his fingers in suddenly, and the youth squeals brightly, jolting under him.

“EEEIIEIEIEIAIAIAIAAIAIAIAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHHAHAHEEIEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA PAHAHAHAHHAAPAPAPAAAHAHAHAHAHA EEIEIEIIEAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA!”

He pauses his attack, and the bright squealing laughter dies down into rapid giggles, and Abraxos smiles down at him. "I happen to know for a _fact_ , that his belly is mighty ticklish." He pokes him in the belly playfully, all over, and the boy under him jolts and jumps and squeaks with ever poke. "This is my belly now. I _own_ this belly. I'll share it with you brothers, because I'm nice, but this is _my_ belly." His guardian smiles at him playfully, wiggling his fingers against the shaking belly gently, spinning his hands in small slow circles, getting every spot of his belly, leaving nothing untouched, and the boy shrieks and arches his back, squeaks turning into bright shrieking peals of laughter, tugging harshly at his arms. "Say this is my belly, Hama, say it, say this is my chubby little tickle tummy."

“Nohohohoho! Mehehehheeanie!”

He tilts his head, looking down at his chage. "What did you just call me? Did you call me _‘meanie?"_ he continues his gentle torture of his belly, and wiggles the fingers of his right hand down to his side, the boy under him shrieks and squeals with laughter, arching his back and squirming where he lay under the Power, looking up as he tugs at his arms again "I swear I just heard you call me _‘meanie’_ , but I know you know not to, so I must have misheard, tell me, my little tickle boy, did I mishear you?”

“Aaahahaahhahahahahahahhaa yehehehhehehees aahahahahahahahahahhahaaa! I sahahahahhaaid pahahahhaapapaaaaahhahahahahahaa! I sahahahahahaid pahahahahappapaaahahahahahahahaa!”

"That's what I thought you said, I knew I must have misheard you." He wiggles his fingers up and down his side, and the young angel rocks lightly, trying to turn up onto his side to block out the fingers, and then he runs them back up over his tummy, the shaking little chubby giggle filled tummy. "Now, say this is my little tickle tummy."

"Nohohoho! It'shshshshshs mihihihihihiihinneheheheheheehe!"

Abraxos chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Oh, no, no. It most certainly is not. This," he wiggles his index fingers on either side of his belly button, and Hamaliel squeals softly, sucking in his belly as much as he can. "Eieieieiaiaiahahahahahahhahaha Pahahahhaappaahahaha! Nohohoho!" He tugs on his arms again. Hamaliel looks back down to his guardian, squealing and shrieking with laughter, he wonders if they can hear it outside, he's laughing really loud, he can't really focus enough on it to think too deeply on that thought, he can only focus on those fingers wiggling on either side of his belly button. Abraxos smiles at him lightly. "This is _my_ little chubby tickle tummy, not yours, _mine_."

He looks back down to his beloved tummy, lifting his fingers away from it, wiggling them just above, and the little angel giggles frantically, eyes jumping from hand to hand of wiggling torturous fingers. "What's going to happen to this little tummy now?"

"Noohhoohohohoothing! Nohohothing!"

"Now, I don't think that's the case." He hovers his fingers right over his belly, wiggling still, the tips of his fingers just ghosting over the shaking surface, his young hummingbird giggles harder, watching those dangerous fingers closely. "I think it's going to get more tickly tickles."

"Nohoho! Paahahahhaappaahahahaha! Nohhoohoho!"

"Oh, yes, I think it is." His fingers touch down, and the young angel squeals brightly, arching his back at the suddenness of the assault, he knew it was coming, but he still wasn't prepared. He looks like an adorable little fledgling, cackling brightly with bright peals of laughter, head thrown back against his pillow, it's an endearing sight, and he watches it for a moment, it makes both elder Power's smile. "My little chubby tickle tummy is going to get some tickles." The guardian spiders his fingers over to the left side of his belly and the little hummingbird squeals again, shaking his head, arching over to the other side as much as he can, squealing again when his fingers wiggle over to the right side of his belly, and he bounces lightly, jumping over to the left. "This chubby little tickle tummy seems to me, to be quite ticklish."

Hamaliel shakes his head feverishly, boisterous cackles pouring out of him, bouncing lightly where he lays as those fingers torture the sides of his belly relentlessly, zipping from side to side.

"Oh, yes, it is, it's quite ticklish." He digs his fingers into his lower belly, really digs them into the pudge, and the boy arches his back sharply, shrieks of laughter exploding from his lips. "My little tickle tummy is mighty ticklish." Abraxos looks down at his tummy with raised eyebrows and a playful smile. "Now, look at this adorable plump tummy."

"Myhyhyhy tuhuhuhuhummyyhyhyhyhy ihihihihihis nohhohohohot adohohohohohoraahahahable!"

"Oh, but it is." He wiggles his index fingers into a little pouch of baby fat above his waist line, under his belly button, and his little hummingbird squeals brightly, flowing right into uproarious laughter, pressing his head back against the pillow under him. "It's mighty cute." He keeps on for a moment, just savoring the uproarious laughter coming from his giggly, mighty ticklish little charge, and then he pulls back, staring down at the little tummy roll, and then he rushes down, burying his face into the roll, nibbling it playfully. Hamaliel’s eyes widen, and he throws his head back again, arching his back sharply, screeching with laughter. "IIIEIEIEIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHHOHOHO PAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAPPAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA! IIIEIIEIAAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOHOHHOHOHOHOP THHAHAHAHAHAHAT! NOHOHOHOHOT THAHAHHAHAHAHAT IIEIEIIEIAIAAHHAHAHAHAAHAHA! NOHOHOHO NIHIHIHIHIHIBBLES! NOHOHOHOO NIHIHIHIHIBBLES!"

Abraxos pulls away from his belly, licking his lips lightly, and smiles up at him as he pants heavily, trying to catch his breath. "Now, are you going to say this is my little tickle tummy, or am I going to have to use some more drastic tactics to get what I want to hear?"

Hamaiel bites his lip, shaking his head stubbornly, he'd never say it, never ever, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction, he was a Power’s charge, he needed to be strong and withstand the worst tortures known to them, and that included the torturous tickle torture.

His guardian smiles down at him, poking him in the belly button playfully, and he shrieks, it elicits bouts of hysterical giggles from him. "You're cute." He pokes all over his belly, pulling his finger out of his belly button, and his charge jumps from side to side, jolting and squeaking. "I like you, I made the right choice in picking you, I've never doubted my decision, and I never will." He pulls his hands away, resting his arms up his sides, leaning forward on his elbows. "Now, about those drastic convincing tactics." He looks down at the bare chubby tummy with a smile, eyeing it carefully, as though searching out a spot for attack. "Let's see if this will make you say it."

Hamaliel’s eyes widen comically, when it finally dawns on him on what's about to happen, what his drastic tactics are, and he shakes his head frantically. "NO! NO PAPA! No, no, no!" He squirms from side to side, tugging desperately at his arms, trying to pull his arms down, bouncing lightly where he lays. "Not that! Not those! Not those, please!" _Those_ are just as bad as nibbles, if not worse, definitely worse, and nibbles are pretty bad, so _those_ are terrible.

"Oh, yes." He curls his fingers over his sides to keep him still, in place, and bends forward. " _Those."_ Abraxos presses his lips over the little hummingbird’s belly button, and rests there, listening to him shriek and giggle, takes a deep breath, waits a moment, and blows out a long hard raspberry. The boy squeals loudly, brightly, and he laughs softly against his belly, before he takes another deep breath and blows another mean raspberry. He squeals and jerks around, arching his back and bouncing under him, with every harsh playful raspberry, at some point, he doesn't know when, but mid bounce, as he arches his back, he snakes his arms under him, around his lower back, and his fingers poke out at his sides, and they wiggle in torturously. Abraxos presses a kiss to his shaking belly, pressing a wave of playful kisses all over, and then plants a rather big one over his belly button, and the young angel continues to bounce under him, giggling and shrieking at the round of playful light kisses. "I love this little tummy. With all my heart. It's perfect, absolutely perfect, just the way it is. Don't ever change this little tummy. _My_ little tickle tummy." He takes another deep breath, buries his face into the little roll under his belly button, and shakes his head as he blows out his raspberry.

Hamaliel squeals and laughs, boisterous uproarious laughter, as he blows again and again, shaking his head from side to side feverishly, arching his back again, kicking his feet under his guardian as much as he can. He can't take it, it tickles so bad, it tickles so much, he can't take it, he'll crack under this tickle torture, he'll say what he wants to hear, he'll say it, anything to get him to stop. "IHIHIHIHIHIT'S YOHOHOHOHHOHOHOUR TIHIHIHIHIHIHICCKLE TUHUHUHUHUMMYYYHYHYHYHY!"

"Can you repeat that?" He nibbles at the tummy roll, takes a deep breath, buries his face in again, and blows another massive raspberry. "I want to hear it again, it's what?"

"EIEIEIIAIAIAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA YOHOHOHHOHOHOURS! EIEIEIIAEIAIIAIAAHAHAHAHHAA YOHOHHOHOHOHHOUR TIHIHIHIHICCKLEEHEHEEHE TUHUHUHUMMY!"

"Do you admit that this is my little chubby tickle tummy?"

"YEHEHEHEHEHESSS! YOHOHOHOHOOUUHUHUHUHUUR CHUUHUHUHUHUHUBBYYHYHYHYHY TIHIHIHIHIHICKLEEHEHEHEHE TUUHUHUHUMMY!"

His guardian chuckles lightly, peppering more light playful kisses over his belly, and he giggles breathlessly, bouncing softly with every other kiss. "I really love my little tickle tummy." He sits up again. "Now, I want you to say something else for me."

"Whahahahat?"

"I want you to say; _‘Papa, please give me some berries.'_ "

Hamaliel shakes his head firmly. "No!" And bites his lip, shaking his head feverishly from side to side.

"Say it, or I'm going to nibble at this little roll all night long."

He smiles when his charge squeals softly behind his closed lips, shaking his head again, just at the thought of that happening. "Say it, baby boy, say it."

Hamaliel bites his lip harshly, taking a deep breath, he giggles lightly as he opens his mouth. "Papa…." He thinks about the prospect of more nibbles, of nibbles all night, and licks his lips anxiously, in anticipation. "Papa….please….please give my tickle tummy…..please give my tickle tummy some berries."

"Why, I'd be glad to, Hama!" He leans over, taking a deep breath as he rushes down, and buries his face into his belly, blowing out a series of long hard raspberries. Hamaliel screams, squealing, again and again, as he blows raspberry after raspberry all over his belly, moving from spot to spot, he bounces wildly underneath him, kicking his legs again, tugging at his arms.

"NOHOHHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHHAHAGAAHAHAHHAIIHIHIHIHIN! NOT AGAIN! AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAEIEIEIAIAIAIHAHAHAHAHAHAH NOHHOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHO IIEIEIIAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAHHAHAHAHAHHAEIEIEIEAIAIHAHAHAHHAHAHA! NO! DON'T! STOP IT! STOHOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIHIT! AAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAIAIAIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAAA!" Abraxos pulls away, taking another deep breath, and he screams with laughter when the Power makes a show of taking a deep breath, puffing his cheeks up, and slowly lowers himself back down. "NO! NOHOHO! PAPA NO! STAY AWAY! NOT MY TUMMY! NOHOHO! EIEIIEIAIAAIHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAEIEIAIIAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAPPAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH AHAHAHAHAIEIEIAIAIAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAID IHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAID IHHIHIHIHIT AHAHAHAHAALLLL! EIEIEIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOOREEE! EIEIEIAIAIAIAAHAHHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHHEHEEASE PLEASE EIEIEIIAIAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHANT TAAHAHAHHAHAKE IHIHIHIIT! EIEIAIIAAIAIHAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES SOHOHOHOHO BAHAHHAHAHAHHAAD! EIEIEIIAIAAIHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAHAEIIEIEIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHAA!"

"Okay," his guardian pulls away, rubbing his hands over his tummy, as though to rub away the remaining tingles, as he giggles breathlessly, panting feverishly. “I’ve finished playing with me gift.” Abraxos rubs his tummy soothingly, smiling at the residual giggles that echo around them softly, overpowering the medic’s grace to release him. “Wanna go get some supper and cake?”

Hamaliel nods happily. “Yea!”

Chuckling, he rises to his knees, pulling the boy up with him, standing as he curls his legs around his waist. “Let’s go get you some eats.”


	287. Taking Vengeance (Raphael & Paschar

“So, I’ve got my little thief all ready for me.” Paschar stares at the Archangel in horror. “Immobile and at my complete mercy.” He pushes off the door and stalks closer. “What ever shall I do to you?”

The youth licks his lips lightly. “Y—You could have mercy and let me go?”

“Well, that depends on whether or not I’m in a merciful mood.”

Paschar licks his lips again. “A—Are you?”

Raphael smiles down at him. “No.” He hums as he crosses around the side of the table, leaning against the edge, over the youth under him. “Though, if you tell me where you put my things, perhaps I’ll think about having mercy on you.”

The youngling shakes his head, biting his lip, he took those fair and square, they’re his now. “No, they’re mine now.”

“Oh, no, they’re _still_ mine.” The Archangel shrugs. “You don’t want to be cooperative, that’s fine, I’ll get what I want out of you.” He cracks his fingers lightly. “Let’s see what I’ve got to work with, shall we?”

The young prisoners watches him reach up and poke a finger into his armpit, he’s not quite sure what’s going on here, he expects to be tortured, that’s what he got from the implications of that statement, and with being tortured, he expects it to hurt, but he giggles, shrieking lightly, when that fingers begins to wiggle, tugging on his arm fruitlessly. “Waahahahahaait! Whahahhahahat!”

“I’ve told you, I’m seeing what I’ve got to work with.” The Archangel nods to himself. “Definitely good here, very good.” He moves down, stepping around the corner of the table, and pokes a finger into his side, poking around in random, and he shrieks again, arching away from the finger. “Oh, the side is nice, that’ll do just well.” He reaches up, poking around his belly, and he shrieks again. “The tummy is nice too, very nice.” He reaches up and pokes a finger into his belly button, wiggles it around playfully, and Paschar squeals lightly, sucking in his belly. “Oh, that’s very nice.” He continues his way down and pokes a finger into his inner thigh, and he shrieks brightly, clenching his legs together as tightly as he can manage. “No, no, little one, open those legs.” Paschar shakes his head frantically. “You open those legs, you don’t want me to do it for you, I guarantee it.” The youth shakes his head again, he is not opening his legs, no for the life of him. “I’ll give you one last change, before you come to regret your disobeying, open your legs.”

He shakes his head again, and the Healer heaves a sigh, but nods, and turns back to his legs, pulling the one nearest him out slightly, and reaches in, digging his fingers into the crease of his leg, and he screams, kicking his leg wildly.

“EEEIAIAEIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA ANOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEEEAIEAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA STOHOHOHHOHOHOOP STOHOHOHOHHOOHOOHOOHOP! EEIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERREEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHERREEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE EEEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AEEIEIEIEIAEIAAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOO EEIAIIAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! EIEIAIAIAAIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEEHEEHHEHEHEHEHEEERE! NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE! EIEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA NOHHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!”

“Guess you should have opened your legs like you were told to.” He pauses for a moment. “Want to tell me where you put my things?” The youth shakes his head. “Very well.” And he digs back in.

“EEEIEIEIEEEIEIEEIIAAIEAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHHAHAHAHAGAAHAHAHAHAHAAIN! NOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHHAHHAHHAAHHAAGAIN! EEIEIEIAIAIEAIAIAAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHHEHEEEASE NOHOHOHOHOT MYHYHYHYHY THIHIHIHIHIHIGH! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA EIEIEIIEAIAEIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHEHEEEAEAAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEE THIHIHIHIHIHIHIIGH! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEEERREEEIEIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEERE! EEIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAA! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHHOREEIEIEAIEAIAIAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE! EIEIEAIAIAHAAHAHHAHHAAHHAHHAAHHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAA IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAND IHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! EEIEIAIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL LIHIHIHIHIHISTEEHEHEHEHEEN! IIHHIHIHIHIHIHI WIHIHIHIHIHILLL!”

“You will, huh?” Raphael pulls his leg out just a tad more and spiders his fingers up and down his inner thigh. “You can bet you will. I’ll be _sure_ of it.”

“NOHHHOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHHAHHAAGAIN! EEIEIEIIEAIIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA EEIIEAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH EEIEAIIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOT MYHHYHYHYHYHYY THIHIHIHIHIGH! NOHOHOHOHOHOT MYHYHYHYHY THIIHIHIHIHIHIGH! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE! EEIEIEIAIAEIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAEHHEAEAHEAAEAEIAIAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! EEIEIAIAIAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAA AEEIEIIEAIAIAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAAHA STOHOHOHOHOOP STOOHOHOHOHOHOP STOHOHOHOHHOOP! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHHEAASE PLEHEHEHEHHEEASE! EIEIAEIAIAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHI’LL DOHOHOHOO BEHEHEHEHETTER! IHIHIHIHIHI SWEHEHEHEHHEAR! AEEEIEIAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAA AAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHEHEEAEAHEAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI SWEHEHEHEHHEAR! IHIHIHI DOHOHOHOHO!”

“Oh, you swear, do you?” He pinches up and down the naughty little prisoner’s inner thigh. “You’ve suddenly decided you’ll do better, have you?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHHEES! IHHIHIHIHIHIIIHI DOHOHOHOHOO! EEIIEIAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA AHAAAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE NOHHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE EIEIEIAIAEAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAAH AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAEEIEIIEAIAEAIAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHE THIHIHIHIHIHIGH! PLEHEHEHEHEHHEEEASE NOHHOHOHOHOT THEEHEHEHEHEHE THIHIHIHIHIGH! AAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAA AEEIEIEIAIAEAIAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAA IHHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOORRY! EIEIEAIIAEIAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M SOOHOHOHOHOHORRY FOOHOHOHOHOHOR NOHOHOHOT LIHIHIHIHIISTEHEHEHEENING! EEIIEAIEAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHIHI’LL LIHIHIHIHIHIHISTEN! IHHIHIHIHIHIHI WIHHIHIHIHIILLL! IHIHIHIHIHIHI WIHIHIHILL!”

“Oh, you’ll listen now?” Raphael pauses his attack on the poor youth’s thigh and turns to look at him. “So, when I come back to these thighs, because I _am_ coming back, you’ll open your legs, because I know you’re going to squeeze them closed, you’ll open your legs when I tell you to?”

Paschar giggles wildly and nods.

“Good boy, lets continue on with our investigation.” He lets go of his thigh and continues on, scratching at his sole lightly, humming when he gets a small fit of giggles, and tests his toes, pinching them lightly, and nods at the soft shrieks he elicits. “Alright, I know what I’m working with, let’s get to work.”

The little thief watches him closely as he crosses back around to the head of the table, smiling up at him, and he can’t not return the kind of smile the youth is giving him. “You know, this could all be avoided if you just tell me where you put my things.”

“Um, on technicality, they’re _mine_ now.” Paschar grins up at him cheekily. “Spoils of war.”

Raphael smiles down at him, he likes this one, and shakes his head. “Oh, no, little one, they’re still mine.”

“Until I managed to swipe them out from under your nose, not very attentive are you, I took _so_ much from you.”

“You’re only digging your grave deeper and deeper.”

“You’ll have to keep digging if you want your things back.”

The Archangel hums softly. “Or, I could just torture you into telling me where they are.”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll break me.”

“Oh, I’m not _assuming_ anything, I _will_ break you.”

“Really buying into your own press, aren’t you?”

Paschar shrieks brightly, bursting into a fit of giggles, when the Archangel wiggles a finger into his armpit, tugging fruitlessly on his arm, trying to curl away from him.

He smiles down at the boy. “You’re really in no position to be so cheeky.” He sighs softly, reaching over to wiggle a finger in the boy’s other armpit, smiling at the shrieky giggles it produces. “This is nice, I miss this, I’ll have to come around here more often.”

“Stohohohohop! Stohohohhohop! Nohohohohoho! Aaahahahahahhahahahahaa aaaahahhahahahahahahahahahaa geheheheheheet theheheheheheem ohhohohohohout! Aaaahahahahhahahahahahahahahhaahaa eaeeieiieiiaaiaaahahahhahahahahahahahhhahahaa aaaahahahhahahahahhahahahahahahhahahahaaa plehehehheheheheease! Gehehehehehet theehehehehehehehem ohohohohohout! Eeieieiaiaiiaahahahahahahhahahahaha aahahahahahhahahaha aaahahahahahhahahahahahahahaa Rahahahahahahaaph plehehehehehheease! Geeheheheheheheheheet theheheheheheheem ohohohohohohout! Eeieieiiaiaiaiaiaaahhahahahahahahahaha aaahahhahahahahahahahahahaahhaaa aaahahahahahahahahahhahahhahahahahaa nohohohoot theehehehehehehehhehere nohohohohot theheheheheheheere! Eieieiaiiaaiaaahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahaaa aaaahahahahahhahahahahahahhhahahahahahaaa gehehehehehehehehet thehehehehehem ohohohohohout!”

The Archangel shakes his head. “All you have to do is tell me where they’re at and I’ll stop.” He flutters his fingers over the boy’s armpits and he shrieks again, his laughter picking up in quantity. “It’s ever so simple.”

“Nohohohohoho! Neheheheheever! Stohohohohhoohop! Stohohohhohohop! Aaaahahahahhahahahahahhahaa aeeieieaiaiaiaaahahahahahahhahahahahaahaa aaahahahahahahahhahahahahaaa nohhohohohohohohoo nohohohohohohoho aaahhahahahahahahahhahaa aaahhahahhahahahahahaahahhahahaahaha pleheheheheheheeease! Plehehheheheheeease nohohohohoho mohohohohohore nohohohoho mohohohohore! Eeieiaiaiaiaaahahahahahhahahahahahaa aaaahahahahahhahahahahahahahaa stohohohohohohoop! Eeieieiaiaiaaahahahahahahahahhaa aaahhahahahahahahahahhahaa aaahahahahhahahahahahahaaa noohohohohohot thehehehehehere nohohohohot theheheheehhere! Plehehehehehheease stohohohohohop! Aaahahahahahahahahaha aaahahahahahahahahahahhaa eeeiaiaiaahahahahahhahhahhahaaha aaahahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahahaa Rahaahhahahahahaaph nohohohohohoho stohohohohoohoop! Pleehehehheheheeease!”

“I’ll stop when you tell me where you hid my things.” Raphael leans over him to claw his fingers into his ribs. “You know the terms of this arrangement.”

“EEEIEAIIIAAIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAHAHAAHHAAA! IHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL NEEHEHEHEHHEHEEVER TEHEHEHEHEELL!”

“Then, I’ll never stop.” The Archangel, steps around the side of the table. “Perhaps, we should try another place.” Paschar’s eyes widen when he curls his fingers around his knee and pulls his leg outward. “How about here.”

He screams when the Archangel digs his fingers in the crease of his leg. “EEIEIEIEIAIIAEIAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHHAAA NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEERRREEEIEIEIEIIAEIAIAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA OKAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAY! EIEIEIAIEAIAIAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAA OKAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAY AAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHEHEHEEEEIEIIAIAIAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL TEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEELL! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHII’LL TEHEHEHEHEHEELL! STOHOHOHOHHOOOP PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEASE STOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOP! IHIHIHIHIHIIHI’LL TEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEELL EIEIEIAIAIAIAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA RAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAPH IHIHIHIHIHIHIHII’LL TEHEHEHEHEHEHHEEELL YOHOHOHOHOHOOU! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHII’LL TEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEEELLL!”

The Archangel pauses his attack, but remains in place, just in case. “You better, or I’ll start right back up again.”

Paschar shakes his head frantically. “No! No! I’ll tell! I will!”

“I want you to _show_ me.”

“But—EEEIEIAEIAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHA OKAHAHAHAHHAHAAY OKAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAY! I WIHIHIHIHILLL! I WILLL!”

“Good boy.”


	288. The Returned Healer (Cerviel)

“Father, you wanted to see me?”

He turns at the sound of His thirdborn’s voice, smiling over His shoulder at him, and nods His head slightly. “Yes, I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

Raphael shakes his head, curling his arms behind him. “No, not at all, I was just reading in bed when I got your summons. Is everything alright?”

He nods, smiling again. “Yes, everything is just fine, I wanted to return what was so wrongfully taken from you.”

The Healer tilts his head. “Return what was…..What are you talking about?”

“Dad,” his eyes widen at the voice, it couldn’t be, he’d been taken from him so long ago. “Is that Raph?”

“Yes, little one,” He steps aside, and he finally catches sight of him, his little healer, taken from him so long ago. “It’s your older brother.”

Cerviel stares at him, and a smile slowly overcomes his features, Father holds a hand out as he slides off the table, stumbling slightly, his legs not used to the weight after being suspended in all consuming darkness for so long, Father catches him, softly urging him to slow down, but he wanted him, he wanted his older brother, his Archangel, his Healer, he _wanted_ him. His steps are sloppy, like a newborn taking it’s first steps, and he rushes forward when his legs finally give out, catching the younger angel before he can crash to the floor. “Raph! Raph, I missed you so much!” The young healer wraps his arms around the Archangel. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Cerviel?” He brushes the youth’s curls back when he looks up at the call of his name. “Is it really you?”

The youth grins cheekily. “One time, I put itching powder in your wings, and Gabriel said you probably had mites.”

He smiles. “Oh, it’s you, alright, you cheeky little thing.” He lifts the wobbling angel up into his arms, holding him close, and the younger angel curls his arms around his neck, hugging in close, and he presses a kiss to the side of his head. “I’ve missed you so much, my little healer.”

Cerviel smiles, pulling back slightly. “Raph, can I still be a Virtue, please, it’s all I could think about, I tried being as strong as Ori and Ak, it got hard sometimes but I thought about them, and it made me stronger again.”

The Archangel smiles at him. “The position was always yours, it’s still open, even after all this time, I knew you’d be back, I’d hoped it would be sooner, but I had faith.” He leans in to brush their noses together and the youth giggles softly. “Your brothers are going to be so very happy to see you.”

Father smiles at them and their reunion. “A few things before you take him home.” The Healer nods, looking at Him from over the youth’s shoulder. “He’s been surrounded by silence for the last ten thousand years, he’s going to be prone to being easily overwhelmed, of course in his excitement, he’ll ignore his predicament, so I trust you will heed it?”

Raphael nods, smiling back at the young angel in his arms. “Yes, of course, I’ll take good care of him.”

He smiles at the pair of them. “Well, then, I bid you both a good night.”

Cerviel smiles, leaning forward to lay his head on his Archangel’s shoulder, and he nods at his Father. “Goodnight Father.”

Carrying him down the Axis is little trouble, he’s a light weight, and he’s warm, he doesn’t mind carrying him. Cerviel looks around from over his shoulder, just taking it all in, everything looks so different now, he looks around when they enter his Archangel’s Infirmary, even his home looks so different, the healers are different, he recognizes a few faces from his class, but they’re older now, and he…..he’s still the same.

He ducks into his Archangel’s shoulder, he doesn’t want to see anymore, a hand presses to the back of his head when he tightens his grip.

His home doesn’t feel like a home anymore.

He hides in his shoulder as they make their way up the stairs to the Loft, he hopes no one is awake, he had been so excited to see his older brothers again, but….but he doesn’t want to see how they’d changed too.

“Hey, Raph,” he tenses at _his_ voice. “Who’s that?”

Raphael smiles lightly, rubbing the youths back gently. “You don’t recognize the one that you Elected as one of your Virtues?”

Oren’s eyes widen, he sets his cup down on the counter, and steps forward. “C—Cerviel?” The boy tenses, the can see the muscles under his shirt moving as they constrict, and he pauses midstep at the reaction. “Is….Is it really you?”

Taking a deep breath, preparing himself for what he’s about to see, he squirms to be set down. The Archangel sets him on his feet carefully, his hands hovering at his sides as he turns, just in case he falls.

His eyes water, he feels the salty tears burn, Oren looks so different, his hairs longer, he has an actual beard, the last time he’d seen him, his hair had been shorter, just touching his shoulders, and his beard had only been a slight coating of stubble. He curls his hands around his mouth as he breathes a cry, his family is different too, he’s the same, the exact same, and his family is different. He’d been stuck in the vacuum of time and space, where aging stopped and time meant nothing, but his family had kept growing, aging, changing.

The little healer covers his face with his hands as the tears start to fall, he feels hands curl under his arms, around his middle, and lift him from his feet. He expects it to be his Archangel, so it comes as a surprise when he feels the scratchiness of a beard rub over the back of his hand, he throws his arms around his oldest brother’s neck and buries his face in his shoulder as he cries.

Oren holds him close, one hand curled around the back of his head, his other arm curled under him, his Archangel rubbing the youth’s back sadly. “I know we look different, Cervi, but you’ll find that that’s the only thing that’s changed. You’ll find that were all still the same as you remember us, we’ve missed you so much, thinking about you every day, always hoping you’d be given back to us.” He smiles when the younger angel’s cries slowly start to taper off. “You know, Ak’s got a beard now too, he loves it, calls it his pride and joy, I swear, he loves that thing more then he loves any of us.” He smiles at the small giggles against his shoulder. “He’s going to be so very happy that he has another belly to rub it into. Eph is going to be so very happy that his cuddle buddy napping partner is back. Costa is going to be so very happy that he has his sarcastic companion back, you’ll be having your little bantering spats again before you know it. Zed’s going to be so very happy that he’s got his lab partner back. Zaves is going to be so very happy to have his little partner in crime back. We’re all going to be so very happy. It’s a dream come true.”

Cerviel sniffles and pulls away slightly. “You guys missed me that much?”

The oldest Virtue smiles up at him. “Baby boy, the way we missed you, is indescribable, there’s no way to put it in words.”

He returns his smile. “It was scary there, Ori, and I’d think about you and Ak and how strong you guys are, and then I’d make myself stronger, so I could be strong like you guys.”

“Cervi, you’re strength far surpasses _all_ of ours.” Oren leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “Want me to make you some hot chocolate and come back to my room with me?”

The youth smiles and nods. “Yea, I want that.”

His older brother looks over his shoulder to their Archangel, and Raphael smiles. “Of course, I’ll be in my room, if you need me.” He makes to turn but pauses. “Oh, and Oren, if you would pass this along to your brothers as well, Cerviel was suspended in silence and darkness, he might get a bit overwhelmed at too many loud noises, so be careful.”

Oren nods firmly. “Understood, thank you for telling me, Eph has the same problem, they can retreat together when that happens.”

The Healer nods, smiles at them one last time, and bids them both a good night as they turn back into the kitchen, to prepare a mug of hot chocolate.

…

Oren leads him down the hall that morning, towards the chattering in the kitchenette, holding his hand firmly, to ground him if he gets overwhelmed. The elder crests the end of the hall first. “Hey, Ak, make another plate.”

The mental specialist turns to look at him oddly. “Make another….Everyone’s been served already, yours is on the table.”

“No, I know,” he tugs him forward, and Cerviel steps out from behind him, looking up at his second oldest brother. “He needs one too.”

Akriel stares at him, for a long silent _eternity_ , his mouth hanging slightly agape, clearly, out of everything he could have expected to come his way that morning, _he_ was not one of them.

Silence echoes loudly around them, it was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop, he shuffles nervously and tugs on Oren’s hand, his grip tightens slightly, and it’s comforting. “Hey, Ak.”

The second oldest Virtue drops the spatula. “C—Cervi?”

Cerviel nods slightly. “Yea?”

Akriel stares at him for another mute minute. “How..What..When.. _What_!”

He smiles slightly at his confusion and the utter flabbergasted expression that’s over come him. “Father brought me back last night, Raph brought me back here, and I slept with Ori.” He gestures to him. “Ori says that you love your beard more then any of the rest of us.”

That tears him from his reverie as he glares above him at their oldest brother. “Oren, I swear to god, stop telling people that!” He reaches forward, curls his fingers in the front of his shirt, and Cerviel yelps as he’s tugged forward sharply, smooshed into his older brother’s chest. “Cervi, I am _sooo_ happy that you’re back!”

He smiles, looking up at him. “You missed me, Ak?”

“More then anything, little guy, more than anything.”

He giggles as he’s tugged away, into Zed’s arms this time. “Don’t hog him all to yourself, Ak, we wanna see him too!”

“Yea,” he giggles again when Constantine tugs him into his arms. “Don’t hog’em, Zed!”

Cerviel giggles again when he’s tugged backwards, Ephraim’s arms curling around him from behind. “Yea, Costa, don’t hog him, I wanna see him too!”

“Come on, you old goats,” Zaveriel tugs him over to him. “Don’t get your old man germs all over my partner here!”

They all turn to look at them. “ _Old man_ germs?”


End file.
